Without Air
Page 3
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“What did you say?” I whispered and sat straight in the still, silent night, and turned towards Julie in bed. The moon light peaked in from the window between the wooden blinds. I could see a subtle outline of her profile, moving her head back and forth she mumbled and turned away, pushing only with her shoulders to adjust. Not more than a moment past when the still of the night governed throughout the quiet house. Off and on I would hear an unusual chirping and clanking noise but gave no heed. There was also a new lavender fragrance with a faint new-plastic emanation that begged my attention. I speculated the aroma came from a contemporary potpourri Julie had recently purchase. Settling my head back into my pillow, sliding to one side to reposition into the head shaped traversed imprint. I replayed the accident over and over in my mind. The art of sleep was particularly difficult to master as my mind was occupied. I must have pushed a little too hard on my run, my body was worn. I attempted to retrieve a glass of water but at the slightest movement my body ached and begged for rest. Each time I awoke, for many nights, the digital clock that stood on my night stand read 4:36 am, no matter the night, beyond control, my eyes unlocked and fixated on the clock at 4:36am. Unsettled as I was, consequently bizarre dreams dictated my rationale.
I stood on a moist rock filled with green moss on all sides, not more than a few feet across did the rock span. I looked out across the water and could see nothing but endless water and reflection of the scorching sun. The waves splashed loudly against each other and against the solid rock. Hours passed turning to seamless days, and the scolding sun beat into my skin leaving me dry. Nights left me cold and bitter. Hunger became more ravenous than the feelings of loneliness. I sat helplessly and deprived of all natural essentials as an infant lay beyond aid. Again I awoke this time the room was darker than it had been, I could not see Julie to my side because of the darkness but could feel her presence. I thought it better to return to my dreams this time to relieve the pain I had in my legs from my sporadic workout.
I closed my eyes and almost immediately I returned to the mossy rock, this time the waters naturally calm, no tempest disturbed, and quietness allured. I looked out and saw the man, the man that was unfortunate to have been in that dreadful accident, it was no mistake that he floated on a piece of dried driftwood near the rock where I stood. His body was torn and ravished as it had after his destined event. I jumped from my safe and secure territory and swam towards the driftwood. Further and further I swam away from safety, the distance of the rock was equivalent to the driftwood and it continued to push further away. My legs and arms tired quickly, I worried now for mine own safety as I fell short of either rock or floating driftwood. My respirations were fast and my head struggled to stay above while opposing weight carried me down. Now submerged, I faded slowly into the darkness that surrounded below, I stretched my eye upwards. In my struggles I gazed at the driftwood where on top lay the man. At which point my body paused intently and scrutinized the bottom of the floating wooden raft. After a careful evaluation, I could make out words that were transcribed into the wood, “Near ends of life lay journeys of told, which cometh to those of morals not sold. Of grace finds success which bringeth peace, whereby journeys end completes.”
I was foolish to imagine that I could assist another as I myself remain helpless.