The Railing
I peer outside the window to see the frost-bitten lake. In the distance I can still hear the sound of crashing water as it pounds against the rocks. It is the sound of my past, one that I have been yearning to hear for some time now.
Its cold out and I pull my cloak tighter around me. I follow the remnants of a path that is now covered with snow. It is one I know well. One I have taken many times before. I look around me and notice the familiar naked trees that I had laid under on all those sunny days.
The bitter breeze and the fog that sits in the sky portray my mood. It is sad, hopeless and disintegrated. What once was spirited is now lifeless. And what was once inspired is now lost.
As I near the gloomy structure on the edge of the cliff, I think about what has transformed me into this. Was it because of my naivety? Or was it just letting things fall apart? These are questions I can't answer.
The curled black railing begins a distance before the house. Why it was built that way, I cannot say. I touch my hand to the icy black barrier which holds me from falling into bliss of water. It is cold and quickly numbs my hand and my body.
I stop for a moment, to take in the scene. The water falling, crashing down. In a way I see the water as life. Inevitable, uncontainable. I can see it all unfold again, as I watch the water. I can see it as if it were just yesterday.
I could have stopped it. This never had to happen. But it did and I can't change that. I see her take my hand, with that gleam in her eyes. That sparkle, which captivated me time and time again. I fell for it every time. I fell into her trap, her manipulation, her "plan."
She looked at me with mischief, which I should have disregarded but didn't. I should have contained myself. She was "off-limits". Not for me, which is why I was so intrigued with her in the first place. One always wants what one can't have.
Her smile was what did me in. I couldn't refuse. And short thereafter, I found her lips upon mine. I was plunged into a whirlwind which I could not escape. But as much as it was supposed to be a one time occasion, it quickly developed into something more.
As I look back on it now, I realize it was childish. But at the time it was a thrill, to be able to do this without being caught. It became an affair, and not only did we find each other with our noses close, but we also found the meaningful sides of each other.
She peered into my heart, into my soul, with that free spirit. She made me a better person. She turned me from a selfish jerk to a thoughtful gentleman. But I cannot say that I had as much of an impact on her, as she did on me.
I soon found myself wanting to spend all my time with her. We had a forbidden relationship. Prior to that fateful day when she enticed me, I had thought of her with innocence. She seemed faithful. Faithful to the one she gave her heart to, which I had accepted as not me.
Yet I found her coming back to me, searching for something she had been missing. I took some glee in her returns to me, triumphing over the fact that I had something he didn't. Obviously I had something he quite certainly lacked. This is an immature statement, as I realize now, but at that time I was deeply entranced by her and took anything I could.
I should have realized it was doomed from the start. I should have noticed the fire in her eyes dim every time I took her hand to lead her through dark corridors to broom closets and abandoned classrooms. I should have known that in the end she'd go back, as if all this time meant nothing.
That was the way it seemed. But when I told her of how much this time meant to me, she said it meant a lot to her too. Being as stubborn as I am, I did not believe it. I told her if it did mean a lot to her, she'd be with me and only me. I told her to come away with me, but she said she had already made a promise… to someone else.
I don't know why I took it as such a surprise. She told me he was good for her and she had already made a promise to him. When I asked if she loved him, she couldn't answer. We didn't speak for a while after that.
Of course he was blind to all of this. He hadn't suspected anything, which I knew he wouldn't. He trusted me, he trusted her, and we both betrayed him. And although I do feel badly about doing that, I do not regret it.
As our time at school drew to a close, I could tell she was becoming restless. It was not long before our last day when she led me into an empty corridor. She told me she missed me and that she was sorry. I told her not to apologize.
They married of course, the happy couple that they were and they bought a house. It was quite a lovely house, in a rural area. They had a water fall for their backyard. Naturally I was envious. He had the beautiful house and the beautiful wife.
Every so often I'd drop by and sometimes he'd be at work. We'd lie together under the trees or sit together watching the water crash down on to the rocks below. One day I asked her once to come away with me. She said no, and that she was pregnant.
That was the last time I saw her. She died about a year after. It was a murder I should have predicted. It was something I should have seen. I should have protected her. I should have been there. I willingly take her death onto my conscience.
I realize some might believe it was out of my control, that I couldn't have stopped it. But she was the love of my life and I cannot forget it. I cannot forgive myself for not being there, not being able to protect her.
The fog is thicker now. The sky is darker. It is a gloomy grey, quite in tact with my mood at the moment. With my mood always. I listen closely to the sound of the rushing water and hear a laugh that I haven't heard in a long time.
The laugh is free and spirited; something which I had forgotten existed. And for a moment, through a wall of water, I see her. I see that gleam in her eye and that gleam in her smile, the gleam which attracted me to this path.
With my hand grasping the railing, I continue to walk closer, although I have already done what I came here to do without really realizing it. I came here to let go, and hearing that laugh and seeing that gleam once more has helped me to do so. Then why I continue to trudge through the foot deep snow, I do not know.
The house comes nearer with each step. The windows are dusty. Cobwebs have inhabited the corners, as I am sure many other places as well. I let go of the railing and I reach the back door, and lay my hand gently on the doorknob. I twist it carefully, and it obliges with a faint cry. The door gives way to my gentle force as clouds of dust blow up from the wind outside.
The outline of furniture is still apparent; at least I think it is. I can see the tea kettle still on the stove. The same one she had poured for countless cups of tea. A baby's crib sits in the living room with a toy on the ground beside it.
I do not step inside, but I stand there for a few long moments before turning around and closing the door. I take that same worn path back the way I came. The rushing water quiets with every step as the memories grow faint.
The sun peaks out from behind the mountains of fog. It beats warmth on my face and I feel a smile form on my lips. I can see the end near and my hand, again on the railing, will soon have nothing left to grasp.
This is it. This is the end. The end of the railing. I know as soon as I let go of it, she will be as lost as the water at the base of the fall. My memories will become embedded between the rocks underneath that water. They will lie there forever more and finally I can accept it.