“Let’s get out of here, Ava.”
“What, do you want to get something to eat? I thought you said you didn’t want t—”
“No, let’s really get out of here, for a while.”
“O.K. Where will we go?”
“It doesn’t matter. Just not here. Just not anywhere like here.”
She removed her gaze from the ceiling and turned to Waldin. There was barely a moon that night and she struggled to make out his countenance.
“I’ll pack a bag.”
“No. Let’s just go. Let’s just go now.”
She couldn’t help but worry, but she was far beyond doubting him. “O.K.,” she said with the slightest hesitation.
He got out of bed and walked over to the safe with his shoulder bag in hand. There was a lot less in there than a few months ago, but still a rather significant sum. Waldin paused for a moment and the money glared right back at him. He reached into his bag, grabbing his wallet, emptied the cash from it into the safe, dropped the bag, and headed for the door, Avalyn in hand.
A tiny ghost crab scampered out from behind a rock, as if it had just been told the coast was clear, but, upon catching Waldin’s glare, darted back to contemplate its shame in solitude. Waldin had begun to relate to Columbus’ doubters. Looking out over the infinite ocean, it seemed so plausible that the world was, in fact, flat. As far as the eye could strain to see, past the tremendous protruding rock formations, there was nothing but stretches and stretches of seemingly unbroken water. It all seemed so ambiguous, science, religion, even life. How could anyone claim to know anything for certain? What was unconditionally accepted as fact a thousand years ago is not even given a moment's thought today, and in a thousand years the same will likely be true in regards to the present day. The world is round because we have been told it is, along with a logical, but rather phenomenal, explanation why. We have not experienced the earth’s roundness, yet the earth is undoubtedly not flat? Well, the earth sure felt flat that day. It’s not that Waldin had never overlooked the ocean before. There was just something satisfyingly intriguing about trying to see beyond where the water met the sky. It was in moments like this that he felt the most for Avalyn. It was moments like this when before her it all would have felt so incomplete. Beyond unnerving was the feeling that, when presented with something breathtaking, which you think should make you feel a certain completeness or satisfaction, that it was, however, still empty, still not what you were really looking for. Every moment before her seemed to be overshadowed by this awkward, tormenting, undefinable absence. Freedom from this was what first brought Waldin’s soul to life. How unfair.
For a while there was nothing to be said. The ocean, the rocks, the wind, the sky, the bashful but comforting sun, they said it all. They screamed at his soul, as Avalyn had many months ago. It would only be disrespectful to interrupt. Sometimes silence was fear. Sometimes silence was bliss. Sometimes silence was doubt. Sometimes silence was simply the absence of noise. That day silence was knowing when to shut the fuck up and let a moment speak to you. How ignorant is the idea that we are the only beings, or even just things that can speak? Maybe we’re just the only ones with too much vanity to listen. We’ve been sending out signals into the unknown for decades, but what if we’ve just never all closed our mouths and opened our minds long enough to hear the response of the universe? What could be heard if the human race went silent for a day? Maybe nothing, but even nothing might be better than what we’ve grown accustomed to.
Once it all had spoken its piece, Waldin took his turn.
“You’re going to hurt me.”
Avalyn quickly lifted her head from his lap and looked at him, partly embarrassed, but mostly confused. “I may have gained a pound or two, but I didn’t fancy myself that heavy.”
“It’s not that. I know you’re going to hurt me, deeply. And I will do the same to you.”
“Waldin, what are you talking—?”
“Just hear me out, Ava.”
She sat up completely, crossed her legs and fixed her eyes on his.
“You’re going to hurt me, maybe more than anyone ever could. Whether feelings change, or you need a fresh start, or even if it’s when your time here comes to an end, one day you’ll hurt me. And I’m okay with that. If you never hurt me you could only mean so much to me. I mean isn’t that what all this is, allowing someone to mean enough to you to hurt you? I’m not so certain pain is such a bad thing anymore. Maybe there’s some joy in knowing that you valued something enough for losing it to hurt to cause so much pain. I’d much rather accept that I will suffer than live in fear of it, and never have a chance to feel something genuinely real. Suffering might be better than never feeling anything at all. Maybe accepting that this will end is what gives it its true value. Who would cherish life if we all knew we’d live forever?” He paused a moment, as if he had more to say but wanted to make sure she was still with him.
“Such a beautiful mind you have. And all this time I just stuck around because I thought you were cute.” She always found a way to make him smile when he was trying to put forth his firmest attempt at seriousness. “You know I told myself I’d never do this, but I’ve told myself plenty of things I never kept to.”
Waldin folded his hands in front of his face, letting his chin rest on his thumbs, and found her again. “If you were to jump off this cliff right now, I’d jump with you. Not even to try to save you, because if you wanted to jump I couldn’t take that away from you. I’d jump just to spend a few more moments with you. And if that’s love then I love you. But if love is how I feel about vintage cars or a good massage then surely love is a useless word for this.”
“Every damn word is useless for this, all of this. They all fall short.”
In saying this she rose to her feet and spread arms out to the world, every finger reaching out into the depths of the universe. After a few moments she turned to Waldin and he was met, not with a smile, but a steady, poignant stare. She closed her eyes and slowly began working her way towards the cliff edge, as if to test his claim. His unease escalated as she edged closer. At first he was confused, but in time he understood her call to join her. She was only a few inches from a surely fatal drop, and showed no signs of breaking pace. A few of her toes hung free, when she felt a gentle hand on her arm. He drew her into him but, now as close to falling as her, brought her no further from the edge. Once his eyes were closed, he resigned himself to it all. They stood on the edge of existence, unsure of and indifferent to whatever would come next. For hours, maybe days, maybe even years they stood, neither here nor there. Long after the concept of time had vanished, Waldin opened his eyes. Warmly greeted by the sun, contently sitting in the very same position it had been in when he first closed his eyes, a light grew inside him and he knew exactly what to do.
“Maybe I was wrong, Ava. Maybe I was wrong.”
Chapter 12
Life, Lies, and the Little Things Page 11