Sunday, September 14, 2014

The View From the Shore #StoryBySunday

She chews a piece of lavender gum and stares across the water, trying to remember what is on the other side. Her fingers rest in the valleys between her knuckles as she imagines that she has anybody else's hand to hold.
She had jumped into something she didn't understand, without thinking about the landing. Eyes closed, screaming at the thrill of rushing air and an unknown destination. They made love on a boat in Lake Michigan and she thought that was all she needed to know.   
She had thought they'd move to Wisconsin, eventually. He'd maybe go back to school and she'd buy a kayak that she'd learn to steer on summer days when she wasn't stuck in whatever shop she'd have to sell her soul to to cover rent and his tuition. At night, breathlessly falling into each other, she'd lay her head on his chest as he points to the ceiling and tells her where her favorite constellations are.
He was somewhere else now. Maybe he made it to Madison alone. Maybe he's still on that tiny island where they met. Maybe he's just gone in a way she doesn't know how to accept. She squeezes her fingers until they stripe pink and white. Looking at them she figures she ought to feel something.
They never should have left the blue waters of his bedspread. There was an entire world tangled up in those sheets and she couldn't remember now, why she had thought that she had wanted more. She dug down deep into herself looking for a reason. Digging until it hurt, scratching at herself until she left scars but still she could not see the truth from where she stood on the shore.
The lake looked like an ocean from here, blue that might as well go on forever because she was never going to see the other side.

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