by Maia Walczak
‘You’re such a fucking kid!’
He stood there, smiling down at the water, with only his toes dipped in it.
‘I like you a lot!’ he carried on shouting, ‘I like you Silvia! I like you a lot! I love you! Oh no!’ he covered his mouth and looked at me, mock surprise in his laughing eyes. ‘Oh no! Oh my god, what have I said?! Ha! I totally just said I love you! I must be out of my mind! I love you! There. I just said it again!’
Before I gave myself time to think anymore, I shouted back at him. ‘Fuck you! I love you too. I fucking love you!’
We were laughing like hyenas. Oak was barking like a maniac. Finally he dove in and he roared from the cold. It made me shiver just looking at him. He swam upriver and then down, with a look of delight on his face.
‘You’re going to freeze you fucking idiot!’
He gave a loud roar and dove under the water. Show off, I thought. I just wanted him to hurry up and get out so I could kiss him. I sat down on a patch of grass between some rocks and then lay back. I looked up at the sky and I smiled uncontrollably. Fuck it. I did love him. If I was a blind idiot, I didn’t care.
I fucking loved him. Who knew I would ever come to say those words to someone?
I lay on the warm ground for a few minutes dozing, until Oak’s repetitive barking shook me awake. I sat up and looked out to the water, expecting to see a little head bobbing up and down somewhere along the length of the river. But I didn’t. I got up and walked closer towards the river. He wasn’t there. Little shit, I thought, he’s come back in without even telling me. Oh ha ha. I turned round and walked towards the van to get a better view of it. I couldn’t see him. Oak’s barking was getting more agitated and she was running up and down the water’s edge. I looked back out at the water, scanning far off parts Jack might have drifted to if the current had been particularly strong and he’d decided to swim downriver with it. Oak’s barking was driving me insane.
I scanned the water, the banks and the valley. Nothing.
‘Jack!’ I started shouting.
I shouted towards the forest behind the van.
‘JACK?’ I shouted louder.
Suddenly I felt like a fool, my voice sounded so stupid and full of anxiety. Of course he was somewhere here. He’d only gone into the water a few minutes before.
‘Jack, this better not be a joke! It isn’t funny!’
I stood still for a while and looked out towards the water again, silently.
Oh god. Oh god. Jack. Oh god. Where are you? I was running back and forth along the water now, tears blurring my eyes, my legs feeling numb, slipping every few seconds on the jagged banks. No time to think. No point in thinking. All my fears and worries about the authorities were totally void right now. It was getting dark and I wasn’t going to find him on my own.
I grabbed my phone from the van and started dialling 911 as I ran back to the water’s edge, and just then I stepped too quickly on a loose rock. My ankle suddenly felt like it was on fire. I howled from the pain. I lost balance, and my phone flew out of my hand, shattering to pieces as it bounced off the rock before it hit the water. I grabbed hold of whatever I could so as not to slip down with it. My hands scraped on gravel and then clung to a large sharp rock. I saw blood trickle down the rock before I even felt the pain. And then, through my tears of fear and pain I could barely see a thing. I felt my way back up but soon realised I couldn’t stand on my right foot. I used every other part of my body to get back to the van as fast as I could. I needed to find Jack’s phone. Oak was running around me, but she couldn’t offer any help. I limped my way back, clinging to what I could with my bleeding hands. And when I got to the flatter part and there was nothing left to cling to, I crawled.
I searched through the front and the back, in Jack’s bags and boxes, spilling everything out of the van onto the earth, staining things with blood and ignoring the pain in my hands and my ankle, until I finally found his phone. I tried to switch it on. But in vain. The battery was flat and I had no way of charging it.
I climbed my way into the drivers seat. I don’t know what I was thinking. I knew it was impossible, but I had to try. Yes, impossible, despite the adrenaline and the determination the pain in my ankle was too real for me to drive. I had nowhere to go, no one to call, I was utterly hopelessly horrifyingly alone.
‘Jaaaack! Jaaack!’ I started screaming again, over and over, even though I knew it was pointless.
‘Where are you Jack?’ I cried to myself. ‘Where are you? Please Jack. Please. Please come back. Please!’
It was already dark when I returned to the spot where I’d last seen him. That’s where I found Oak. She was by the water and howling like a wolf. My body was shaking uncontrollably. I kneeled at her side, held her, and I wept.
*
Later I remembered the radio. The damned radio. I found a local station and let it play forever. Then, in the early hours, a body. Found by some walkers. A young man, tall, early thirties. Patagonia wetsuit. Likely to have underestimated the strength of the undercurrents. Police are not treating as suspicious. The next few days passed by in a blur.
Empty Belly
I sat cross-legged in the back of the van, with an open can of sardines cradled in my hands. Eating seemed pointless.
I would sometimes slip into a half sleep, and then I’d suddenly snap out of it and realise.
It now felt like everything that had happened since meeting him had lead up… to this surreal event. Like it was a film I was in, where this outcome had been coming… predestined. As though I’d only ever met him because this was going to happen. His death. He had become his death to me. How could I have ever foreseen any of this? Every time I thought Jack’s dead I’d shake my head. It became my body’s instant reaction to that thought. I didn’t get it. He couldn’t be.
It had been five days since Jack had disappeared and I was still here, by the river. My hands had started to heal but my ankle was still too sore to drive. I was pretty sure something was broken. I was starving. I was trying to force myself to eat something. Since Jack’s disappearance my body had shut down completely and I was sick. Mentally and physically sick. I was faint, drained, tired, nauseous and often delirious. My body had rejected any food I’d attempted to feed it with.
Oak was lying by my side, with her head resting on my lap. I had neglected her these last few days. She had sad eyes. I’d often stared into her big shiny dark eyes and wondered what it was like to be her – to simply lie down in the sun and enjoy it. Simple, instead of having a mind full of incessant thoughts that continually pulled you away from the reality of the moment. I wanted to be free of those thoughts now. I wanted to switch my mind off for a while, to lose my mind.
I lay a hand on Oak’s back. She looked up at me without moving and she sighed, and then she readjusted herself, burrowing her head deeper into my lap. Her warmth was soothing. She was delicate with me, as if she knew I was injured.
I looked around at the contents of the van. Jack’s clothes were still strewn all over it. A pair of his jeans lay crumpled behind the passenger seat. A pair of his socks lay amongst a batch of canned food near the boot. I put on one of my jumpers and found a hair of his on it. I was surrounded by the memory of him, he was still so real and so present, and yet he wasn’t.
My eyes caught sight of the black chiffon shirt I had worn the night we danced at The Shack. It was lying under one of his T-shirts. I reached over to pick them both up. I brought them to my nose, breathing in deeply. Oak nuzzled my neck and face, as though she was trying to console me. But it just made me cry even more.
I hugged her and cried into her furry neck.
‘Oak… Oak… Oak…’ I said, my voice trembling.
I felt such love for her. She allowed me to cry into her and find comfort in her until the sun had lowered itself in the sky and was shining in directly through the windows. Every now and then she readjusted her paw on my lap, as if to remind me that it was there, and that she was there for me. W
hen the tears finally stopped, I pulled away, looked into her eyes and thanked her, stroking her as I did so. I leaned back against the wall of the van again, trying hard to look at it with fresh eyes and without attaching any emotion to any of it. I saw Jack’s box of files and documents. My story in a box; the unfinished case.
The Death of Stars
How did he die? What was he feeling? What were his last thoughts? Did he try to get my attention in any way while I lay there on the grass, completely oblivious and wrapped up in my own world? What was the last thing he saw before he took his final breath? I thought back to the things we’d talked about, our discussions on life and death, and I wondered whether his very last moments were ones of total anguish, or if perhaps it was possible that they’d been ones of peace. Perhaps I was deluding myself, but I wanted so much to believe that he hadn’t suffered in those last moments. Imagining his torment was too painful.
Jack was dead. I wanted to touch his face, feel the warmth of his body against mine, hear him laugh. He was gone. I closed my eyes and gave myself over to the tears, wishing that I would never have to open those eyes again. Wishing that I could leave this world for good, wishing it wasn’t real, wishing it was all a dream. Jack was dead. With my eyes closed I thought that perhaps if I never opened them again this would all disappear and I would never have to confront this nightmare again. I could cry my way to oblivion. Jack was dead.
Painful thoughts drowned me and I didn’t have the strength or desire to fight against them. I wanted to disappear. Life was a sick joke. It had been so from day one. Why not have the last laugh and end it all? I’d never have to confront this pain again.
*
I woke from a nightmare. I was cold and needed to pee. I dragged myself out of the van. Oak followed me. I felt so safe with her, and I wondered what I would have been like without her during this last week. It was cold outside. It was dark. I didn’t walk far to relieve myself; I was still limping. Before climbing back into the van, I stopped for a moment. I leaned my body weight against the van and I looked up. A myriad of stars glowed above me. Here I was, a small insignificant human being looking up at these balls of fire that were apparently billions of light years away, and that perhaps no longer even existed. It was all so utterly incomprehensible. This vastness. This ‘existence’ thing.
The night was crisp and the air, though cold, felt fresh on my skin. Oak pressed her silky body against my left leg, supporting her body on mine. She turned her head suddenly as we both heard an owl hooting somewhere not far off. I listened. Frogs were croaking. A soft breeze was whispering through the higher branches of the trees. I looked up and saw their silhouettes sway against the starry sky. In the distance I heard the song of some kind of small bird. The forest was alive, quietly so, and for a brief moment its soothing presence allowed me to forget everything. To forget myself. For a moment, as I stood there, I was simply there, breathing in the presence of the universe, breathing in the presence of a miracle.
I stared up at the sky for a few more minutes, absorbed in its vastness. The music of the forest played in the background as I gazed. My head was empty of thoughts for the first time in days. Oak shifted her body and I realised how cold it was. We got back into the van. I wrapped two blankets around us, cried and we drifted off to sleep.
For the first time since Jack’s disappearance, I don’t know how, but my dreams were peaceful.
Running From Ghosts
The day I had left my apartment to run away, I had picked up a letter without knowing it. It had concealed itself among the other post – a mixture of junk mail and bank statements. In my rush to escape that day the handwritten ‘Silvia de la Luz’ didn’t catch my eye.
I’d regained some of my senses – it must have been about a week since Jack vanished – I’d made up a makeshift splint for my ankle and started sorting through the van, preparing to leave the wilderness and head back to some kind of civilisation. It was then that I discovered my unopened post, and amongst it this letter:
Silvia,
This is not an easy letter to write but it’s time it was written. It’s very hard for me to know how to begin this…
Your parents were killed seventeen years ago. My ex-colleague and I were paid to execute them.
You were told a lie about their death. They were killed because of your mother’s involvement in the movement against the destruction of the forest near your home by Anders Oil Ltd. This is of course contrary to the official story you received about your father’s involvement in a local drug cartel. We had no reason to believe that your father formed any significant part of any cartel.
I am sorry. Very sorry. No words could possibly express my remorse, and I don’t imagine they could make much difference to you. If you want me dead, I don’t blame you.
I don’t know how much you remember from that night. I remember it well. I had never been a man of hesitation. It was not possible in my job. Once a decision was made there was no choice but to carry out orders. But all this changed the night of your parents’ death.
My colleague was about to shoot you, but I stopped him. Silvia, you reminded me so much of my own daughter that I couldn’t let him do it.
My daughter died eight years ago, and everything changed. I became a different person. When she died I started thinking of you again. To me, you became her.
One night I dreamt about you vividly. It was that night, after endless years of oblivion, that my conscience crept up on me and changed my life. I had to run away of course, mine was not a job you can just retire from. But before leaving that life I felt I had to, in some way, take care of you. Protect you.
I couldn’t give you your parents back but I could see to your financial security. The money you thought you were receiving from the Cruz family is from me. Having put everything within my means in place for you, four months later I dropped everything – my wife, my house, my career – and ran away. They haven’t found me yet, I was always good at going undercover. They’ve had a tough time looking for me, but I know they are still searching.
I’m growing tired of running away. I long to be a whole person, but I don’t think that’s my fate. I am a nobody now. Perhaps tomorrow they’ll find me. Perhaps soon I’ll be dead. But I am determined to stick it out for as long as I can.
Before writing you this letter I approached you in a café. I hope I didn’t scare you, but I’d had a deep desire to talk to you in person for a long time. It’s better that you ran off when you did. Perhaps telling you any of this in person would be insanity, perhaps suicide. I’ll leave this letter with you tomorrow morning – if you want to talk to me face to face I will knock on your door at 10am. If you choose not to answer I understand.
I live with the most profound regret every day of my life. I know this will not bring your parents back or take away years of pain. I know that none of my words or actions could possibly change a thing.
From the core of my being I am eternally sorry, and I thank you Silvia for making me a changed man.
Juan Ignacio Ruiz
I put the letter down on my lap and burst into hysterical laughter. I imagined showing Jack the letter. He’d put his arm around me. I could feel him doing it, I could smell his skin. He’d tell me it was all the evidence he ever needed for the case. I could hear his voice. We’d continue onto Alaska, but without any of the fear or hiding. We’d be happy. It would be so beautiful. He’d always wanted to go to Alaska. We’d never had to run away.
*
Though this letter had apparently been the missing piece of the puzzle called my life, now, more than ever, nothing made sense. If that man had never knocked on my door and shouted out my name, none of this would have happened. Jack would be alive.
He killed us.
But we’d always both known deep down that we weren’t just running away because we thought we had to, but because we both wanted to.
The Plan
I woke up with the light streaming through the windows. For a moment, wit
h my eyes still closed and with the warmth of the sun on my cheeks I felt peace. But only a few moments later I remembered who I was, my story and Jack. Though I would have liked to have had the power to not succumb to these painful thoughts, they gripped me and I found it hard to move. Everything seemed pointless. Getting up was pointless. Moving was pointless. Eating was pointless. Living was pointless. I lay there with the weight of Jack’s death pressing me down and making me feel frozen.
Finally I sat up. My stomach rumbled and I was determined to eat. Today I would. If there was one goal for today it was to eat. One step at a time, piece by piece, I could at least try to be a functioning human being again. Though that too seemed pointless. What did it even mean to be a fully functioning human being? Why try to be normal? What point was there in being normal again? It felt ignorant to strive for a more normal and stable state of mind or emotion. Why should I search for the comfort of ignorance? It felt selfish.
Shut up, I said to these thoughts. I needed to eat. My body was surely more intelligent than my mind right now. I would eat, and think nothing more of it.
I searched through the cans, scanning each label and hoping I would find a rice pudding still amongst them. It was the only thing I had a slight appetite for. The beans, the fish, they all repulsed me. After a while of rummaging through the endless mess I found a rice pudding. I took it out, along with a can of sardines for Oak, and I went and sat back down. I opened the can of rice pudding, I ate and I finished the whole thing. It seemed delicious, better than I had expected. I was hungrier than I had realised. Before I knew it I was chewing on the fish as well. I was ravenous. I finished the whole can.
The practical part of me had returned. My body felt stronger, and with it, my mind did too. I opened the door and slid out of the van. The pain in my ankle was finally subsiding, although it was still hugely swollen. I looked up at the sky. Morning dew rubbed against my bare feet. I breathed in the fresh damp air and the smell of fir and I stretched, I felt the need for it. Oak joined me. I looked at her. It’s just you and me Oak. Today I couldn’t let that thought bother me. Today I needed strength from it. I needed strength to figure out a plan. Some kind of plan, any plan.