Remember When Falling

Remember When Falling


The card came two weeks ago, a painting of a dirty mattress hung by ropes from an old tree. Only this was written on the card, “#7, September 19th – 21st.” It was all I needed. So here I am lumbering down the road in my battered Mercury. I’m driving down the tree-tunneled Low-Country roads, which form the basis for most of my childhood memories. The highways stretches like an unfurled ribbon arching into the curve of a long bridge. With the windows rolled down I breath in the marsh, an odor of fecundity, life, death, decay and growth all mingling.
I’ve always loved these islands, “Barrier Islands” they’re called. As a child I envisioned forts and soldiers, a sort of aquatic fence to pirates and the English. I later learned they earned the name by bearing the brunt of sea-born storms. Like waves on the shore another childhood fantasy crested and broke.
I don’t want to see him. I have no desire to see my best friend and hopeful lover of twenty years. It may kill me to tell the man who’s courted me since we were four that I’ve fallen in love. And I plan to marry this other man. Both of our hearts bear holes and I’m going to bore another into his.
If only I could have made some excuse. But there was none to make. This vow is inviolable. A promise made in happier days, a promise stronger than any wedding vow. And after Alex how could I refuse? Jason and I are tied together, by mutual joy and pain. The campsite is an aging beauty, it’s face lightly scarred by erosion. #7 slopes slightly leading through sand dunes to the ocean. Jason and I played Robinson Crusoe in these ocean forests; I guess you could say I was Girl Friday. When Alex came it was Swiss Family Robinson. I love these sea forests because they seem so unchanging. These wandering salt-stunted trees seem to root this island in place. Rather than growing up, the trees span out, creating an organic playground.
I set up camp with the efficiency my parents taught me. Always place your tent at the highest point; otherwise you might float away in a sudden storm. This is an important lesson for life I think. It’s hard work building a temporary home in the wilderness. Grit lines the creases of my elbows and knees so I head to the surf to rinse. I snap a green branch so it points towards the shore. Jason will know the sign. I taught him trail marking on his first trip with us.
The ocean has always been my friend. The pull around my ankles is like a lure singing, “Come with me, into this clean, green world.” I feel as if I could walk into that bottle green water and find peace at last. Let it pull me down, hold me, cleanse and cauterize the wounds that still fester after so many years. Could I let go freely? Will I some day see this as the only path I have left?
If I stand here long enough maybe I can remember how it used to be, maybe if I’m still enough I’ll see three sun burnt children looking for sand dollars.


I knew she’d come. Always does. Whatever faults she has, she’s faithful. The ranger says she got in about two hours ago. Camp is set up but the only sign of Leah is a bent twig pointing over the dunes. I see her as soon as I hit the beach. She’s splashing in the shallows, the water falls in arcs around her and for a minute she’s the kid I grew up with again. This is how I lover her best, hair flying, arms thrown out laughing with abandon. It’s Leah in an instant. She has a greater capacity for beauty than anyone I’ve ever met. I remember her rolling on the ground laughing at seagulls or staring into the fire. It was like she saw something none of us could. I guess it’s funny she ended up being the writer while I picked up a camera. I always wanted life to be the way she saw it. Between my shitty parents and losing Alex I never had a chance. Leah’s folks tried to teach me, they tried to love it into me, and it just never took. Sometimes when Leah was whispering stories to Alex and I in the dark damp of our tent I’d get a glimpse. I could see it in Alex’s face as we waited for the next odd glorious idea to spring from Leah’s mind. Or when her dad would pull us out on the little blue raft and let the waves carry us in. We’d grasp each other’s hands and plunge down the waves. And for a moment I could see the beauty in everything.
She’s seen me. Even from this distance I can feel her eyes. She looks older than I remember. I can feel her taking inventory, making sure I’m really there. I wish I could tell her not to worry, but I promised I’d never lie to her.

I see him standing on the lip of the sand dunes and I am struck by how appropriate this seems. As long as I have known him he has balanced on the edge of an abyss. Whether he would fall or jump I’ve never known. Could I catch him or would I too spiral into this bottomless pit? Would he fall flailing and screaming or simply let go? If you think about the fall has it’s advantages; remember, when falling you are also flying.
Everything about him says don’t touch. He stands with elbows akimbo, almost at right angles. There used to be a grace to this standoffishness, a taut composure. His grace is faded, worn and frayed at the edges to reveal a frightened child hiding in the body of a twenty-something.
He’s in my arms as soon as I leave the water. In my embrace he feels like a smoke wisp and I hold him tighter, afraid the stiff breeze will swirl him to nothingness. I realize this is the only time we’re this close. It’s the only time we acknowledge what we share. This first moment is the only time we’re allowed to show our desperation. Jason finally let’s go and steps back.
“I like your shirt.” he says.
I look down and see we’re both wearing Abbey Road t-shirts.
“Well, I’ve always had impeccable taste,” I say.
We both laugh too hard, covering an awkward moment.
“So, beer?” I say.


The light is dimming as we reach camp. Leah strides to the cooler and tosses me a beer. It feels good to have something in my hands. I take a swig and watch Leah kneel next to the fire ring. I smell sulfur and watch flames eagerly curl up the teepee of logs. Night has fallen and a child is coming on. I take a seat by the fire while Leah sits across from me. The fire lights up her eyes and I wonder if there wasn’t a shaman or priestess somewhere in her past. She’s a young woman with old eyes. I know she’s seeing something that belongs only to her.
“How have you been?” I ask, just to cleave the quiet.
“Do you really want to know?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“Fine then, if you really want to know. I’m empty. I’ve been searching for something and along the way I’ve misplaced myself. If I can find it everything will be okay.”
“Where do you think it is?”
“A lot of places, part of it is here with you.”
“I see.” I say, and I do.
“I thought you would.”
She tosses me another beer and turns on the stereo. “Rubber Soul” is playing and it feels like ten years ago, sneaking beers and listening to the Beatles. There are only a couple of things missing.
“I’m trying to do something, “ she says, “And you’re the first part.”
It makes sense to me. Of course I’m the first piece, I’m a third of her. I couldn’t put it into words, but I know what makes her tick.

I figure that with Jason the best thing is to be honest. Lay it all out, lay it on the line, whatever the metaphor is…. he understands. He’s lost too and maybe he’s hoping I can find a map for both of us.
He stands, roots in the cooler and flips me another beer. I’m normally not a drinker, but if I’m going to do this I’m to need it. We’re both quiet, loudly quiet, it reminds me of that night.
He showed up late tapping on my window. I could see his rage and sadness in corded muscles. I followed him without a word. The young guy at the gas station took one look at us and slid the cigarettes across the counter. Every drag lit his face unevenly and I could see hellfire in his eyes. We were drawn there without even knowing it. Suddenly we were standing in front of this ordinary white house. It was so pristine and perfect; I felt my heart climbing into my throat to choke me. I head the window smash before I even knew the first rock was thrown. With in seconds we were both hurling stones and listening to the satisfying shattering. When the neighbor’s lights came on we ran. It seemed like hours. We ran, our feet pounding, hearts screaming and tears making tracks from the corner of our eyes. Maybe we though if we ran hard enough we could pull a superman stunt and turn back time. Jason finally fell to his knees and began to retch. What could I do but whisper lies that it was okay? That there was a reason for everything and a God to help those who hurt. But I knew it was a lie.
My parents found us asleep in the yard, curled around each other like puppies from a depleted litter. They knew about the windows but never said anything. I’m sure they paid Alex’s parents and kept it from us. I think they wanted to break windows and punish those people who pretended to be parents.
Leah’s been quiet for a while now. I know what she’s thinking about, I’ve felt that same look on my own face enough times. I wish I could erase this memory, free both of us from it. I want to tell her it’s not her fault and make her believe me. I lost two friends that day; Alex left me and Leah changed. When it was announced I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, equal parts pity and curiosity. My only though was to find Leah. I walked out of the classroom and no one stopped me. When I reached Leah’s class all I could say was her name. Mr. Douglass touched my shoulder and said she had walked out. Fear ran through me and I rant to my car and began searching for her.
Two hours later I found her walking down a back road. She didn’t turn when I pulled up behind her or when I got out and called her name. I ran to her and grabbed her arm. She looked in my direction but didn’t see me. “Leah, Leah,” I called shaking her as if she were a child. Finally she looked at me.
“Jason,” she said, “It’s my fault.”
I bundled her into the car and drove her home. No other words left her lips. When we reached her house she walked right by her stricken parents. Her door slammed and I heard “Rubber Soul” come on full volume and the sound of objects being hurled into the wall. Her mother turned to go but Mr. Devon stopped her.
“Let her be for a little while.” he said.
He turned to me and stretched out a hand. I flinched as if struck. I don’t know what it was, but I had this feeling if I let anyone comfort me it would make it all true. I saw the hurt in his eyes, but also the understanding.
“Jason, son, you know I’m always here right?” he said.
“Yes, Mr. Devon.” I replied.
I didn’t see Leah again until late that night. Her hands were bandaged and her eyes swollen. I never saw her cry.


I see Jason looking at me. We’re sharing a moment only those who’ve known great pain can possibly understand. I have to say something to stop this silence before it swallows us.
“How’s Beth doing?” I ask, thinking of the pert blond girl Jason married after I rebuffed him the first time.
“I wouldn’t know. She left two weeks ago.” he replies in a dull voice.
“Jason, I’m so sorry. Is this a permanent thing?”
“She said it depends on me.”
“Why did she leave?”
“Because she said I couldn’t let go of the past. And she said I only married her because you wouldn’t have me.”
“Is that true?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“It’s not right Jason. You love her, you’re just trapped in the past.”
“No, I always knew it had to be you. It’s the only way to make it right.”
“Jason, it won’t fix it. You can’t make up for the past.
“It’s not that and you know it. You would’ve married either Alex or me if things had been as they should.”
“Not true. I had already decided at 13 that I could never marry either of you.”
“Why not? Everybody expected it.”
“And that’s part of the problem. If there’s one thing my mother taught me, it was you should never marry you’re high school sweetheart. It never would’ve worked. We’re too much alike. We share to many of the same scars to ever be happy together.”
“What are you saying Leah? You’re the only one who could fix me, the only one who could make me whole.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do Jason. I’m trying to show you that you have to let it all go, let me go. You’ve built me into some key to everything, and I’m not. You can’t live your entire life as a eulogy for someone else.”
“No. No. I won’t let it end like this… you’re, you’re the only one who could understand-“
“Jason! I’ve fallen in love. We live together. We’re getting married when I get back.”
Jason stands, he looks as if I’d hit him. He staggers a little and turns to face me.
“What the fuck Leah? Why didn’t you tell me?” he says.
“I just did. What was I supposed to do? Send out an announcement? I Leah Elloree Devon am living in sin with the man I love even though it’s going to break my best friend’s heart? Jason, I came here to fix you, to let you off the hook. I am not your responsibility anymore than Alex was. You don’t have to take care of me. We don’t have to follow the path set by the past. In fact, I refuse to. I have to divorce myself from other people’s goals. If I can’t find a way to live with me and for me I will end up like Alex, dead on a bathroom floor. That is not what I deserve. I have spent ten years doing penance. Ten years of trying to be what everyone wants and trying to live down my mistakes. I’m tired, can you understand? I can’t save you or anyone else, it’s taking everything I have to try and save myself. I just want peace.”
I’m hitting him, trying to beat it into him. Why can’t he accept it? All I want is to find somewhere that I can be secure, somewhere I belong where the past isn’t riding on my coattails.
“Please, please, “I say, “Please just let it go. Let me go. We can’t live like this anymore… it’s not living.”

Leah is pummeling me, hitting me. She finally slumps to the ground. I lift her to lean against me and we stumble towards the tent. I wonder how we must look, so young, but so crippled. When I lower Leah to the sleeping bag she stirs and says, “Please, just tell me you forgive me. Tell me it’s not my fault and you understand why I can’t be in love with you.”
We’re lying facing each other. Almost touching. The way we used to as children when I would tell her how my mother and everyone else looked through me. She is the only one who ever saw me. It is only in her eyes I have substance.
I lean in, my lips so close I can feel her moist breath.
“I forgive you. I am happy you are loved. We are broken-“ I say.
“But beautifully,” she finishes.
She kisses me softly, mending me with a gentle touch. Her hands trace my ribs, touching each one.
“Don’t let these be bars,” she says, “Don’t lock love and hope away behind them. This is my final gift to you. A piece of me nothing can ever take away.”
We lay twined together. This embrace is neither sex nor lust, but a completion. I fall asleep listening to her steady breathing riding the rhythm of the waves.
When I wake she is gone, washed away with the tide. Everything remains, except her old car. A trail of small stones leads to the beach. The sun has barely risen when I find her message scratched into the sand. “And in the end, the love you take, is equal to the love, you make.” A small box sits next to the last word. I lift the lid and find a picture of three smiling, sun burnt children. On the back it reads,

“Jason-
I’m leaving the camping gear for you. Bring Beth here, show her the place we were happy, make new memories. I love you and in the end that is what matters.

Forever,
Leah”

I sat there for hours. Watching the tide wipe Leah’s words from the shore. The shoreline is jagged, broken by one tide, repaired by the next. Sometimes things broken and put back together with love are stronger for the breaking.