time is fleeting

[troubled sleep]

=waves= Just me trying to make my muse cooperate so I can start actually writing things again. I'm sorry to say that I have been unable to write anything lately for a variety of reasons it doesn't do to dwell on…something has been standing in the way. Maybe now I can start to break that down and become less of a lurker and more of an actual member of the Pen again. Or maybe not. I'm not completely sure what's going to happen yet. But for now, hello again.

 

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“I’m dancing. And I can’t stop.”

 

The call was supposed to be about a friend, a friend who may or may not have secretly needed help. She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she was concerned; she couldn’t help it. She had seen too many deaths this year, too many to allow anyone who looked as though they needed help slip through her fingers. He felt the same way. That was why both had stepped in, trying to do whatever was necessary to help their mutual friend. It turned out the friend had needed help, and was doing better now that assistance had been sent along. That out of the way, small talk ensued. He tried subtly to convince her to come to church. She tried not so subtly to assure him that she was doing just fine without a church, thanks just the same. It was then she started to move, and that the movement became a slow dance.

 

And so she danced. Weaving back and forth in the semi darkness of the screened in porch attached to her house, all the things she wished to banish forever from her memory rose unbidden to the front of her mind: the ashen, silent faces as the friends of the first suicide moving dreamlike through the day; the feeling of all the air being sucked out of her house as she sat in front of the computer, reading the words that would change her life; In memory of Ashleigh Webster, it had said, we will never forget her; the pale faces of her own friends as the reality of the second suicide, Ashleigh’s suicide, sunk in. The tears that wouldn’t come. The tears that wouldn’t stop. A million memories. A million regrets. A million feelings without name. The congregation of students jammed into the tiny conference room in the high school guidance office. The faithful keeping up the vigil over the collected flowers and photographs. A pair of tilted almond shaped eyes, so bright in life, looking up dully from the pages. Each memory had a step, each image a movement across the rough brown carpet.

 

He continued to talk, also in motion, albeit a more subdued movement. Walking home from church along the street of his own neighborhood, he drank in the warm spring night—warm enough to be considered summer, really, but with a breeze that blew away the cloying humidity common to the region. He had a strong sense of chivalry, always had. He liked to think it came from living in a house full of women. With them, it was either learn to respect the opposite sex, or fall prey to the glares and grudges of all four. He had three real sisters, including his twin, but had gained more in the innumerable girls at school who had practically become his sisters over the years, attacking him with the same good natured wit his biological sisters employed. Losing Ashleigh had been like losing a sister. This loss had prompted him to take on his new mission: care for everyone whenever he could. Both the deaths had done their part to unite the community—for now. But once the two suicides became nothing more than an old, painful, memory, he would continue on, helping where he could. In his eyes, life was fragile, and a little extra bubble wrap never hurt anything.

 

Both paused, cell phones in hand, feet still moving, and looked up at the sky. It was just after sunset, and the afterglow still remained; great streaks of red and purple and orange reached across the sky like a child’s finger painting, tinting the clouds being blown around by an impatient wind from the west. The wind seemed eager to be on its way, over to the waiting Atlantic to join up with more of its own kind and to skate across the ocean to warm the coasts of Africa. However, the trees and houses and buildings of the suburban town struggled against the wind, holding it captive in flags and windsocks.

 

“I seriously can’t stop dancing.”

 

“What?” He asked, confused.

 

“I’ve been dancing all day, only now it’s worse. I can’t stop. I can’t…stop.” She said, close to tears.

 

He paused again, contemplating.

 

“I told you, Sarah will be alright.” He said, referencing the friend they’d been concerned about, the one whose well being had prompted his awkward call in the first place. She remained silent. “We just have to be there for her…” It was then that it dawned on Him what was really bothering Her. “Oh. This is about Ash-“

 

“No.” She said, cutting him off. She paused, then mumbled: “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know anymore.”

 

“Well, I really think…” he said, embarking on one of his well meaning, if almost painfully rehearsed, lectures.

 

She closed her eyes, half in fatigue, half in annoyance. Here came another one of his speeches. It was then she felt…she wasn’t sure what it was. A presence? A comfort? A whisper: Time is fleeting. When we love, we open ourselves up to hurt. To love a lot is to hurt a lot. But at the end of the day, love is eternal. Surprised, she stopped. It was like coming out of a dream, her feet stood steady beneath her, the invisible red shoes that had kept her moving suddenly gone. Inexplicably, she smiled. It felt strange at first, and she realized just how long it had been since she had really smiled. A small chirp by her ear drew her out of her reverie and back to her phone conversation. Apparently, her phone told her, the battery was low, and if she didn’t stop talking it would have to shut off.

 

“I have to go.” she said as the phone chirped again.

 

“What?” He said, stopping mid-lecture.

 

“I have to go. My phone’s dying. Bye. See you tomorrow.”

 

“Oh. Ok, Bye.” He said quickly, not wanting to waste anymore of her battery. Afterwards, he continued to walk, hands in his pockets, towards his waiting home.

 

“Goodbye.” She flipped the phone shut, ending the call. She started to go inside, but paused at the door to the porch, and turned around, illuminated from behind by the light from indoors. “Goodbye.” she whispered to the encroaching darkness before disappearing inside. Outside, night continued to fall and the wind continued eastward, past the little suburban town and onwards towards the horizon.