Tightrope

Similar in the way her lips moved graciously as she spoke, her eyes held that same mesmerizing grace. I wished so dearly to listen to her, but whenever she looked at me, my heart pounded in my ears so loudly, that it was hard to focus. Slowly, as the sun would, her words melted my composure as I reached for her. And then quickly, like a raging storm, her breath receded into a gasp. Her eyes stared into mine, as my palm burned with the heat spewing out of her arm. I had grabbed her for no apparent reason.

“Jeremy?” She asked, as she should.

“Oh,” I pulled back quickly. A sense of loss flooded into my mind as I, for a split second, wondered what would happen if I told her to stay. "Sorry, I felt dizzy and instinctively grabbed you." Her previously worried face was replaced with a relieved smile. She was such a gullible woman.

Somewhere, someone was losing sleep over their loved one coming home. I, too, am restless. The sun rises and sets, every day. Obvious, but we take it for granted. For one day the sun will rise, but I will not witness it. Has it risen, even if I do not see it? Even if the colors of the dawning sky pour into the homes of people, has it risen, if I do not witness? But at night, when the sun falls and goes into slumber for its loved one, the moon, I pray. I scream, "I forgive you! I forgive you!" to the resting sun and the present moon. I scream to the wind, to the stars, to the ocean. For the world keeps moving regardless of my presence, my voice, my structure. I am one of eight billion others; and yet when I scream, I somehow hope she will hear me. For we are made of dead stars. The stardust in me has met the stardust in you, and mine fell in love with yours, I wish to tell her.

“You’ve been doing that since we were little.” She giggled.

I pulled the bags out of the back of my car and set them in front of her. She focused more on the signs, looking for her gate. Despite her constant arguing, I insisted on pulling her bags for her.

“You don’t need to come all the way with me, Jeremyy.” Her shoulders shrugged as she tilted her head and smiled at me. I returned the same gesture and motioned her to come with me. We spoke of superficial things, how she felt about leaving, how excited she was for a new life. I could’ve sworn that in that moment we were on a mutual basis of understanding, and she knew -that she somehow managed to conjure some omniscient power that would reach into my soul and read the words carved into my heart. But she could not. My ribcage reverberated with regret. I had encouraged this. I had suggested it.

Since childhood, Emma, my brother, Chris, and I had always been close. With an alcoholic mother and no father, Emma clutched to my family and never let go. Perhaps she saw us as her saviors. Along the way, somehow, Emma had fallen for Chris. She confided in me regularly. Despite being younger than both of them, I felt the most mature. Eventually, Chris left home. Emma’s misery clung to me harder than a newborn baby with its mother. Jokingly, one day, I told her to leave. To pack her bags and fly somewhere else. “Forget your life here,” I told her with utmost confidence; “Leave and never look back.” The snap I saw in her eyes as she listened to me would be the biggest regret of my life.

“Want some coffee? My treat.” She offered. Any extra time I could get with her I’d take. We sat at a table against a large window overlooking the runway and watched people pass. She was silent.

“Jeremy?” she finally spoke.

“Yes?”

“What are you going to tell Chris?” Her eyes hesitantly met mine.

“You’re not even telling me any details.” She looked into her cup, and I watched her eyes twitch. “I mean, come on. This is going too far.”

“You’re the one who put the thought in my head.”

“You’re so ridiculous. Who just leaves? What about your family? It’s not too late, let’s just go home.” She looked at me as if I had betrayed her. If only I could conjure the fortitude to admit what she really was to me; to tell her, right now, that while she’s in love with him, I’m in love with her. Chris and I even look similar, why am I not enough?

“I thought you’d be the one to understand.” Of course you would. What about me?

Tranquility covered us like a blanket as we sat in front of each other, her leg bouncing on the floor nervously, something she did when she was searching for something to say. I knew I was being selfish and unfair to her. I knew she needed my support, but I needed her too. My words adhered to the tip of my tongue. Unable to regurgitate anything, I watched her.

The announcement for her flight came overhead, and it jolted us out of the uncomfortable silence we were soaking in. Slowly, she turned her head to look at me. Can she read my eyes like I can hers? Looking, now, can she see into me and feel the ramming of her image in my skull? She hopped off her seat and straightened out her coat. With a small sigh, she held her hand out to me. I knew she was reaching for her luggage. It has to be now. I grabbed her hand, pulled it against my lips, and kissed it. With slightly widened eyes, she stared. Even this was not enough to convey to her my longing. A small smile tugged at her lips. She pulled her hand away and grabbed her suitcase; then she flung her carry on onto her back.

“Well, Jeremy. I thank you for every moment you’ve spent with me.” She bowed her head, her voice drowned out by announcements and chatter and busy bodies. I nodded back at her.

“Be safe, Emma.” It has to be now.

“Always.” It has to be now.

She turned her back to me and pulled her suitcase beside her. I stood and watched her. It has to be now.

“Emma!” She froze. “What can I say to make you stay?” She gingerly turned, her outgrown bangs grazing her cheeks. She smiled widely, and I could feel the blood in my veins warming my body.

“What do you want to say?”

I’d spent my entire life waiting for her to fall out of love with my brother, waiting for her to move on from him. I wasted years and years waiting. Just waiting. Waiting for something that I knew would never come on its own. I was so afraid of her rejecting me, telling my brother, being disgusted by the feelings I kept secret that I never told. Being in the same area as her was enough, even if her wandering eyes never searched for me. It hadn’t quite settled in my mind that she would be leaving. She made it her goal to never let anyone know where she was going. “I’m going to go to France, and then take a train from there to somewhere quiet and old,” she had told me. We sat for hours, and I had helped her calculate the expenses. I figured this was a phase. I knew her. She’d back out at the very last second out of fear and uncertainty. However, this time, she seemed in no way indecisive. Running away came naturally to her, though she’d never acknowledge that.

“Jeremy,” she said, before I could say anything, “Whatever it is you need to say, just say it. There’s no more time to to be cautious. I’m leaving. Wherever I go, I won’t come back. Whatever closure it is you need, do it.”

“Do you remember in the eighth grade when Chris gave Mindy his jacket? When she said she was cold? Do you remember the way you looked at him?” She surveilled me. “Do you remember in the eleventh grade when Chris chose Sara to go to prom with instead of you? Do you remember how you looked at him as he was with her?”

“Yes, yes, what does that have to do with anything?”

“While you were looking at Chris, I was looking at you. I’m in love with you.” Her mouth opened, “Listen to me,” I quickly added. “Just listen. For once, just listen to me. You’re going to leave. And the stars can wink from existence, but as long as you exist, somewhere in the world, I’ll be okay. Go, Emma. Go live.” Her eyebrows furrowed as tears welled in both of our eyes. Shakily, she grabbed my hand and set it to her lips. For a moment, the world emptied. Only she and I were alive. In this universe, now, we were together. I’d find her in the next life, and I’d love her just as dearly then. Without a word, she left. I stayed in the airport until her flight took off; aimlessly hoping she’d run into my arms and tell me it was a joke. She never came back. And just as she had said, I never heard from her again. I like to think she’s living as a nomad would, traveling constantly, always fleeting. Until now, I still think of her. Deep down, I still wait for her.