" ... I would give away all this super stellar life, all the ranks and honors simply to be transformed into the soul of a merchant's wife weighing eighteen stone ... and set candles at God's shrine." Eyes beheld the moon's counterpart, giving this solemn vow validity. The sun's routine descent from its altar in the empty sky was underway. High atop a hill, the open field offered no havens. This day's king was fallen, and the wind blew, and the leaves echoed its harshness. The couple rested easily together. An old blanket was spread out upon the ground, with the blades of grass gently bending under the weight of its owners. A picnic lunch sat untouched beside them. Two goblets were quietly allowing wine to breath.
"That's a strange thing to say." offered the woman, pulling her auburn hair back from green eyes. It was tucked firmly behind one ear, but stubbornly refused to stay. She smiled, curious. Years ago they would sneak up here often. Their aim had been to hide from the world, by getting lost in a new one. Even during their busiest moments, they had made time for this place. August was their favorite. This month was the precipice of a wondrous moment. It bowed gracefully to September, and the changing season. A moment of flux, it sometimes arrogantly created an Indian Summer, proving that there is no permanence.
"It's true." A few wrinkles curled when he smiled, in ode to experience. He was in his early forties. "And from the heart."
"Whose wife would you be?" she queried. "I don't think we know any merchants." she jested.
"How would you like to be a merchant?" He leaned forward, looking at her face.
"Married to a fat woman!" she pushed him back, laughing while shaking her head.
He laughed too, rolling onto his back. Then he focused in on the vast, empty blue overhead.
"Did you make that up?" she asked lying down beside him.
" ... or ... " he interjected.
"OR, is that just another quote?" Angela turned to follow a rustling in the tree line. Then she looked off dreamily.
Alex exhaled slowly, thoughtfully. "Always borrow from the best." He raised up, reaching into the basket for a sandwich. "One day I may even quote myself," he said mockingly. Angela rolled onto her back flashing that universal, womanly grin which translated as both 'touché' and 'you're full of it.' "Besides," he continued, "everything's already been said. The question's in who said it right." He took a bite from the sandwich.
"You ... believe that don't you," she voiced. "Everything's been said and done before, and just ... lying out there, waiting." She paused, reflecting. "There's nothing to do but , just ... "
"Just what ... " he said. The sandwich again disappeared into the basket. He motioned towards the wine, but she shook her head a careful "no."
"I don't know." she said after a moment. "But you believe it don't you?"
"Only just recently." He returned to the blanket, resting beside her.
She leaned back on him, heavily, letting her head rise and fall with the rhythm of his chest. The green eyes followed a bird in the sky. Again she played with her hair, twirling strands. She spoke, and emptiness seemed to move out of the way, letting the question pass unharmed. "Why have you come back?"
Tall trees imitated the rolling of emerald ocean waves as the wind blew in a low whisper. Alex listened intently to what the city folk called, "the Silence." As in "How do you stand the silence?" or "There's that awful silence out there." He feathered Angela's hair back into form, leaving his own disheveled mess to its rugged, natural look. "Why have you come back?" Her words trailed off in his mind, as is their wont. It seemed to Alex that he had never really left. All the time he'd been gone his heart had been here. Always. He knew what she meant though. “Why, Alex, have you come back here now? Why are you changing my life? What do you expect?"
She looked up into his face, her hair brushing his cheek. He knew all the things she wanted to hear, he wanted to say. Or he thought he did. Still, almost as an afterthought, he murmured, "It's home to me."
The silence returned, or perhaps, the emptiness would brook no interference as of this moment. Angela remembered hearing Alex once say that the hardest truth of the world was that everything was simple. She wondered whether she was making things more complex by wanting to know, or if the simplicity of it all was just too overwhelming. Either way she didn't have the courage to fill the void. Breathing in all the great vastness of the heavens, she calmly imagined the outstretched universe. Picturing herself lying flat on this large spinning ball, she set the orb into motion around the sun. Closing her eyes, she envisioned the forces at work, the bright light and the pressure. It was all so overwhelming. Beginning to feel nauseous and light headed she opened her eyes to the blue above, and put a hand down to touch the solid earth.
"The sun ... feels right today." Alex spoke.
"I agree." Angela returned. "But I knew it would shine like this. I could tell when I got up." She raised a hand up to feel the shadow on her face. "There are days when it has to shine like this." She finished. Alex moved a bit underneath her.
"I suppose." Angela looked up and saw his eyes were closed.
"I mean, there are some days when it has to shine like this to ... to complement the lives underneath it. You can't ... you know, have a water balloon fight, or a ...let's see ... or a day at the beach be just right without the sun like this." She raised her hand again, squinting through the crack between her fingers. "What do you think?"
"I think you're right, like always ... Oof!" he bellowed as she hit him in the side. "Okay, okay!" He sat up on his elbow, grinning. She hit him again, jokingly. "You." she scowled, and then broke into a smile.
"That's why I came back." Alex chuckled.
"Why?"
"Your laugh." He reached into his pocket pulling out a photograph. "I couldn't hear it in this photo." He motioned it towards her. She took it curiously. Her eyes then widened and she smothered the photo to her face.
"Oh my God! You still have this!" He reached for it, prying the glossy paper from her hands.
"Yes. I do." He looked down at it. Angela's countenance was smiling back, several years younger. She held a beer in one hand, had bows stuck all over her head with streamers draped across her body, and wore a T-shirt with a street sign across the front. He read what was on it, "Yield. Why fight it?"
"That was a long time ago. A lot has changed," she stated.
"Not the important things."
"No?" She reached out for a taste of the wine. Smiling slightly afterwards, from the warmth of the liquid.
"No. Not really?" He smoothed the hair away from her face again. She stopped him, gripping his hand in hers.
"Let it go," she voiced, and her hair flew about wildly. "You've always had such ... strong hands. The kind I wanted to hold me tight forever."
"Wanted."
"Yes." She looked away to the horizon. The sun was just starting to burn into the distance. A red hue melted out into the sky.
"But ... " he encouraged.
"I'm not sure." She took his flat palm and rolled it into a fist. "This is what I see now. Pride. Strength. Determination. I've seen this fist bloody, and brutal, in my nightmares. I've seen it pound on tables, demanding justice, and strike at flesh, extracting it." She examined it anew, looking for traces of familiarity. "You see," she said, "it's closed, tight. There's no opening, no room, for another within it."
His fingers spread out, his hand an offering. "Will you have me now?"
"I .. don't know." She looked over her shoulder, to see the moon climbing the empty sky. “You see," she turned to him again, "it can return so quickly."
"That's all behind me now." Alex said earnestly.
"Is it? The past will just stay gone for you."
"The past?" His eyes reflected back an emptiness, an otherworldliness. Angela knew he was thinking about all he had done. She leaned back onto the ground, a fulcrum between sun and moon. There was an intensity within Alex, a struggle that was taking place inside him. "I have ..." he spoke finally, "buried it."
"But it will never go away, will it."
"I've come so far Angela, done so much. If not for them, then for you. Look at all that was accomplished with these." He held up his fists. "Doesn't that make it worth everything?"
"No ... yes. Oh, Alex, what you did ... it wasn't for me. It was for you. There wasn't any possible choice. It was who you are. No one will ever know, what it's done to you, ... can know."
"What are you saying?"
"You're the hero, and everything turned out perfect. You've killed the monster, saved the day, and now you're returning home. You've done all the terrible, dirty things, that no one else would, and what's more you did it willingly. No one wants to talk about it, it's just done. You've won, Alex. Victory. You and your cause were the winners. You've raised your Standard."
"And ... "
"And there are no more dragons to slay," she whispered with the wind. "Except maybe one. And you've had me all the time."
Alex inhaled deeply, fixing his eyes just above her face. The orange of her hair stretched the horizon, burning the tree tops. All she had said was true, and he had come home to hear it. He was through fighting, and he had found his struggle ... wanting. "Hail the conquering hero."
They had been together a week, reliving old times, feeling alive again. For reasons unknown it had come down to this. Alex would be awarded the medal of honor next week. He would make speeches, and ride in parades. He would smile at children, and shake old men's hands. The world would be his for at least a month, and all he wanted was here. He simply couldn't convince himself of it. They would come for him tonight. She had given up convincing him the first day. He hadn't listened until now. Alex retrieved the goblets, handing one to his companion. They drank together, slowly.
"Stay." Angela said.
He remembered her shirt and her smile from the photo. "And ..."
"And set candles at God's shrine."
He smiled. The sun was sinking beyond, its glow vanishing. The moon was at the altar now. "It never goes away," he whispered.
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