The Forgetting Place - Chapter Fifteen

Novel in Progress

Leo and I dance around one another in a silent ballet. I stay in my room in the mornings until I hear the front door open and close. He takes the long way around the garden to the bee hives while I’m sitting with the chickens. At dinner time we twirl and pivot around one another. Me opening the refrigerator while he stands at the counter chopping vegetables. Him opening the refrigerator while I reach over the counter to retrieve the oil. We pass back and forth, missing each other by margins. 

He still leaves my tea on the counter though. Still sweetened with honey. The milk he leaves in a tiny pitcher on the side. I still make sure not to run the water in the kitchen sink while he is showering because I know it will make it run cold. When I use the last of the strawberries in my salad in the evening I go out and pick some more so he’ll have them for his oatmeal in the morning. When I am out walking after the sun has already begun to set, He leaves the light on on the porch. 

Such a civil war. 

47 stones sit in the jar when the silence is broken. 12 stones since the morning after the dream. It is the middle of the night. The sky splits open and bright light streaks through the curtains making daylight of the darkness. The thunder makes a cracking tearing sound, and then there is a crash like the sound somehow made contact with the earth. I throw off my covers and stand at the window. I don’t hear Leo’s door open, but he pounds on my door twice before throwing it open. 

“Are you ok?”

Three words cut the tension of nearly two weeks. 

“Yes,” I say, and then I ask, “What was that sound?” not because I expect him to know, but because I don’t want him to confuse my monosyllabic answer as a dismissal. 

“I think a tree went down. I’m gonna go check the rest of the house. Be right back.”

The thunder has died down, and I must strain to make out the lightning in the distance, but the rain on the window pane gets thicker until the outside is a blur of shapes and colors. 

“Everything inside looks alright. It didn’t sound like whatever fell hit the house, but once the storm passes I’ll go outside and take a look.”

“I’ll go with you.”

We stand there for a beat, our truce definite but fragile.

“I’m not sure I’m gonna be able to fall back asleep after all this excitement,” he chuckles. “I think I’ll go make some tea,” he turns to go then looks over his shoulder. “You want some?”

I smile and nod. 

We sit down beside one another at the kitchen island, peppermint and chamomile steam lingering in the air. We are quiet, but not silent. I am ready to release the tension between us, but I am not ready to forget. When all the liquid is gone from our mugs, I gather them both up and head for the sink. 

“It looks like the sun is starting to rise,” I hear Leo say over the sound of running water. 

I look up at the window and notice that most of the beads of water are stagnant, and the sky looks blue and purple at the horizon line. Soon there will be pink. 

“Should we head out now then? To check the house and the grounds?

“Soon.”

The quiet returns. I am still standing at the sink with my hands braced on the counter, trying to find my words, when I feel Leo’s hand on my shoulder. I don’t know that I have the right words yet, but I have words that are true. 

“I appreciate the peace of our days here, and I can not help the ache that I feel. I am a mystery to myself. I want to know who I am.”

Leo turns me around. Gently. Slowly. “You are who you are. This person right here, right now, that’s who you are.”

“But how did I get to be her?” I search his face for answers I know I will not find. 

“However it happened you are her. You can get to know her now. Why do you need to know how you got here?”

“It isn’t, it’s just –” 

“You can be anybody. You can choose to be whoever you want to be without any history or past experiences or people to interfere. This is a gift”

“It feels like a curse. To not know where I came from. To not know the people who loved me. The love that shaped me.”

“Does not knowing keep you from being who you are? Right now?”

“It doesn’t keep me from being this person, but maybe I’m supposed to be someone else.”

“If you were supposed to be someone else, wouldn’t you be that person? If this is who you are right now, maybe this is who you’re meant to be.”

The way he says it makes it sound so simple. It makes the complexity of how I’m feeling feel childish, but I can’t let it go. 

“I had a whole life before this. You had a whole life. Isn’t there some part of you that wants to know?”

“No.” 

“How can this not matter to you?”

“Why does it matter so much to you?”

“I asked you first.”

“Because this is all we have.” He holds his arms out at his sides and looks around. “This is all I’ve got. It has to be enough. I need it to be enough.” He steps closer to me. “Can this be enough for you?”

The warmth of his body and the solid lines of his frame beg me to acknowledge them. They taunt me with how tangible they are. He makes my dreams feel so far away. Would I give this up for something that only exists in my mind? The notes I scrawled in my bedside table feel like fiction. I start to lift my hand, but ball up the fabric of my skirt in my fist instead. To touch him feels like a betrayal. Not touching him feels like a betrayal. 

I feel like I am breathing through a straw. I grip at the counter behind me to steady myself. My toes curl trying to get a firmer grip on the ground. My nostrils flare with effort. I push a gust of air out through my mouth. My gaze is trained on a patch of wall I can see just over Leo’s shoulder. 

“Hey,” he says to me. He bows his head and presses his forehead against mine. My skin warms at the contact. Goosebumps appear on my arms. His hands make their way to my hips and the intimacy we have been hinting at becomes real. I pry my fingers from the counter and rest my hands on his chest. I pull my face away from his an inch, maybe two, then incline my chin. I rise up onto the balls of my feet to close the distance. He pulls me closer to him and my lips are on his, and his are on mine, and we are making a memory.

*Next chapter, Friday, July 18th. Read all chapters at A Soft Place to Land.*