Absolute Darkness

“Here in the fourth chamber, we’re about hundred feet from the cave entrance and a hundred feet down,” said the cute girl in the cute little outfit who was our tour guide. Her name was Caitlin—or at least that was what was embroidered in white script over the pocket in the bright red suit jacket she was wearing over a plain white dress shirt. She was reciting a speech she’d obviously given many times before. It was the last tour of the day, and she was repeating her script without much enthusiasm. “No natural light whatsoever can reach us here. Is anyone here scared of the dark?” Everyone in our group of about a dozen laughed, some a little more nervously than others, including me. I felt a chill, and not only because it was only about fifty degrees there in the cave. “If you are, raise your hand.”

There was more laughter, and about half the group, about six people, grinned with embarrassment and raised their hands—including me.

“Okay. Everyone who’s afraid of the dark, find someone’s hand to hold, because you’re about to experience absolute, complete, total darkness.”

I didn’t have far to reach, because I was standing right next to my boyfriend John. I took his hand and squeezed it, and he squeezed back.

“Absolute darkness is something very few people have ever experienced,” Caitlin said. “Even before electric lighting or even gas lighting, very few people ever saw darkness like this, because even on the darkest nights there’d be some light from the stars, the moon, a fire...something. In fact, people wouldn’t ordinarily go into caves without a torch or a candle or some other flame. So actually very few people in the entire history of the world have ever experienced what you’re about to see...or not see. When I turn the lights off, it’ll be totally and absolutely without light. Are you ready?” There was more laughter and a few murmured yesses and even a couple of joking noes. The guide put her hand on the switch at her shoulder. “One...two...three!” And she flicked the switch.

Many in the group—including me—gasped. If you’ve never been in a cave yourself, it’s almost impossible to describe the experience. I can better tell you what it’snot like. It’s not like closing your eyes. It’s not like wearing one of those masks you get on an airplane to help you sleep. It’s not like hiding in bed under all the covers. It’s not even like closing your eyes and wearing a sleep mask while you’re hiding in bed under all the covers.

But now that I think about it, Ican tell you what itis like. If you’ve ever had general anesthesia, it’s like what you see in that moment when they’re waking you up after the surgery but before you’ve fully regained consciousness and opened your eyes. It’s like the blackness you emerge from when you thought you were dead and you realize you’re still alive.

“How’s everybody doing?” Caitlin asked.

My boyfriend gave my hand a squeeze. I squeezed his hand and leaned back into him, pushing my bottom against his fly. He rocked his hips forward. I wiggled my bottom from side to side a little. And he put his other hand around me, just under my belt, and pressed me against him. Of course, because the lights were still off, no one could see us. I felt his lips against my ear. “I wonder what it’d be like to do it here,” he said, so softly no one else could.

That was one of the games we’d played since becoming a couple, which had only happened about a month before. We’d become roommates in a sublet while we were both taking summer classes between our junior and senior college years. And we went from being roommates to friends to friends with privileges to an officially declared couple in a matter of weeks. In those weeks, we did it in every room of the ap