The memory made her shiver in the hot morning sun –
It was something dark and ugly, something horrible. Something that would harm her. She broke out in a sudden sweat but at the same time she felt cold all over, like she had just come down with a fever.
Frightened, she looked around, but she was alone in the room. Quite alone. Still, she was certain there had been someone there with her, hovering by her. Hating her. She left the room quickly.
The memory made Halley look around fast to make sure she was still alone. Satisfied with the yellow grass and blue sky and the aloneness, she let herself think about the rest.
For there was more. There had been someone good in the house too, hadn’t there? In a different part of the house. It had been someone kind, someone waiting for her with hope and with love.
He was in the garage warming up the car for me. And then we got in the car…
Halley dropped her hand quickly, as if the movement could stop the flow of thought, but the lump in her throat did not dissolve.
Sean? SEAN??
Her breath caught and her vision blurred as the name burned through her, but she could attach no memory of a face to the name, only the image of a bright, warm smile, and a sense of utter loss, of desolation, as if she’d made a thousand wrong choices, and the relationship with Sean, whoever that was, had been destroyed by these choices before it had ever really begun. The lump remained in Halley’s throat, as if to block a cry of anguish.
The watch and the woods and the ring were gone. These disappearances didn’t seem coincidental anymore.
A drowning sensation overtook her; she felt herself sinking deeper and deeper and couldn’t catch her breath. She was choking and coughing and her lungs were filling and she would die soon…
Her eyes caught on the silver bracelet she had found in the forest, and she stared at it hard. She fingered the flowing pattern of waves on the bracelet, at first with desperation, and then more slowly; she found that this movement helped her to breathe again, to flail to the surface of whatever had been drowning her. The memory of first seeing the bracelet in the fallen leaves, of stooping to pick it up and closing it over her right wrist – of its familiarity – was very strong. In the memory, she was not a thirty-five-year-old woman, as she was now. She was younger, twenty-three perhaps.
As if the bracelet had come from before. But before what?
In the woods with Eden, she had placed the bracelet on her right wrist. Now, standing alone in the morning sun, it felt oddly comforting to hold the bracelet with her left hand, and at the same time hold her own right wrist that wore the bracelet. Strange that holding my own wrist should feel good, reassuring. Like I’m making myself stronger, making my wrist thicker and straighter. The bracelet is a different sort of ring than a wedding band, but a ring still. There’s comfort in that. The bracelet grew warm from her touch. She closed her eyes and was still.
Her life dissolving. She recalled a hanging plant she once noticed, that had fallen off a balcony. It had gotten stuck on the way to the ground, its hook catching on the edge of another balcony. It hung there midair, and never fell any further. She had watched the plant over the next week, watched it wither and die from lack of care. The sight had saddened her. But the following spring, the pot still hung there, and she saw that a new plant took root. It grew robustly, with vigor the original plant had never had.
Perhaps this was what was happening with her. Maybe an old part of her needed to dissolve to make room for the new.
She looked back at the shelter, and thought to tell Eden about the disappearances, to ask her advice. She needed something firm to hold onto.
“Eden, are you awake?” she asked softly.
There was no answer.
“Eden?”
Only silence.
Halley bent down and looked into the shelter, opening her eyes wide to see in the dim light, trying to see Eden’s form in the darkness. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but a subtle emptiness in the air told her, even before her eyes could confirm it: Eden wasn’t there.
Halley stood up straight, and looked out at the emptiness.
“Eden? Eden, where are you?” she shouted.
The sound unfurled into the space around her, and she heard the edge of desperation in her voice. It was quickly silent again. She didn’t want to shout anymore.
The wind began to whistle across the low grass, which had given up its gold and was once more a pale, dead yellow. The sky was enormous and no longer invigorating.
Eden was gone.
A surge of disbelief went through her, quickly followed by the recognition that this loss was real, and absolute. The pain of it hit her like a punch.
It wasn’t at all like losing Fernando. Eden hadn’t held Halley’s power; she was simply her friend.
Halley swallowed hard before crawling back into the shelter. The first thing she saw was her own orange windbreaker, neatly folded in the place where Eden’s head would have lain. She felt around on the ground, where the pink flower blossoms lay. She touched the ones she herself had slept on – they were still slightly warm from the heat of her body. But the rest of the blossoms – the ones Eden must have slept on – these were covered with morning dew, cool and damp to the touch. Her throat constricted. Eden must have left well before dawn, must have climbed over Halley in the dark of night. Why?
She crawled out of the shelter, taking the orange windbreaker with her. It was impossible to believe it was the same day she had greeted with such vigor. Getting to her feet was difficult, and the vastness of the space around her humbled her when she did, and drove her back to her knees. The sun was high in the sky, and its light was harsh. There was no break in the landscape for miles, only the yellow stalks of dried-out weeds. No figure of a little girl to catch her eye. No friend to walk with.
Far in the distance, she could see the teeth of the mountains, unfriendly and unfamiliar. Standing, she turned in a slow circle, like she had when she’d looked for the woods. The view in every direction was the same. Yellow, deadening grass. Desolation.
Her eyes lit upon the white stick that Eden had given her – Halley had left it outside the shelter the night before as a kind of totem to protect them. The sight of it made her feel like she was filled with lead. It was if a dream had ended before she’d gotten to the good part. The word loneliness seemed too small and insignificant a word to describe the hollow she felt inside herself, the feel of ashes floating around her and alighting on her eyes.
I don’t want to be alone again, not so soon. Oh GOD…
“Where are you? Won’t you stay with me?” she whispered aloud, picking up and fingering the smoothness of the white branch. It felt cold to the touch. She stared at the ground, and then sank back to her knees.
From her hiding place some distance away, Eden watched closely, lying still, hardly daring to breathe. When Halley rested her head on her arms, Eden’s small hand involuntarily reached out to her.
Silently, Eden weighed the options. If I stay with you, you might think it’s me who has done all the deciding and made all the choices. You’ve come here to find your own way, your own power. You’ve got to be your own hero. She mouthed the words to herself silently: Be your own hero.
Eden fought the urge to go to Halley. Maybe I can go with her, but only if I make sure she does all the deciding, even if she chooses wrong. I have to let her choose wrong sometimes.
She sat still with this thought, waiting for Halley’s next move. Then she made a bargain with herself. If Halley turned to run back to the forest, all was lost. But…if Halley stood up and went on towards the mountains, oh yes, if she was as courageous as she’d once been, then Eden could join her again, and there was still hope.
“Oh please, let there be hope,” Eden whispered.
It took a long time for Halley to get to her feet, and when she finally did the lack of foliage made her feel very exposed. Still she stood. I didn’t come here to hide in the weeds, she thought, with a surge of anger at t
he landscape and its unclear threat. She held the white stick grimly in her hand.
“All right,” she said. “I know I have to go on. You must’ve left for a reason. I’ve still got this mission, this baby to save. I’ll do it, even if I have to do it alone.” She wished her voice sounded more convincing.
She looked out at the mountains. It was hard to gauge how far they were. I can’t even make a guess with no landmarks to help indicate the distance. I guess it doesn’t really make any difference.
Shouldering the bamboo backpack, she started off through the yellow grass, feeling it scratch at her ankles between her socks and her combat trousers. It was strange – yesterday, the grass was gentle and kind. It doesn’t matter, she told herself, shaking her head in dismissal. What matters is movement, getting closer to where I’m going.
Small clouds were scattered across the endless blue sky; they moved along fast, powered by a strong wind. Halley wished the wind would help her as well. Instead, it came from all directions at once, ruffling her hair into her eyes, taunting her, seeming bent on making her feel as uncomfortable as possible. Her footsteps in the dry grass rustled in time with the sound of the wind, and the two sounds together made for a lonely concert. It was the sound of something important, missing.
Still, the view was open and the mountains were unambiguous in the distance. This was a comfort. Halley was by herself again, but as she listened to the sound of her footsteps, she realized she was no longer afraid to be alone. On her face she wore the small sad smile of someone who was missing a good friend, but she walked on.
You’re still with me, Eden, just like Mom and Dad. I know it. I can feel you in the landscape around me, in the sky and the wind. And I know I can do this by myself.
She thought of her first steps without Fernando. They seemed a lifetime ago. She stared out far into the distance as she walked, clear-eyed. Be your own hero, she thought.
Without landmarks or a watch, it was hard to say how far she traveled alone. However long it was, the sound of a giggle a while later made her jump. It wasn’t exactly relief she felt when she heard it; it was more a settling into place of something where it belonged. She looked back quickly, and there was Eden hurrying to catch up.
“I thought you were gone for good,” Halley said.
Eden smiled broadly and with innocence. “I just ran back to the woods to pick this for you. I remembered a place by a waterfall where there were all these beautiful flowers.” She held one up.
Halley looked at it carefully. It was purple, with six pedals. Its center was a warm yellow. The colors were robust, and mirrored the emotion she felt while holding it.
“I thought it would look pretty against your hair,” Eden continued, beginning to look abashed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be away so long, but it took a while to find the waterfall, and then to find the perfect one.”
She stepped next to Halley, and carefully placed the stem behind her ear.
The flower made Halley feel like an exotic, savage princess.
“Wow,” Eden said, admiring the effect. “It makes your eyes look so… so…far away…”
Halley inhaled a deep breath, and forced herself to face the question aroused by Eden’s trip to the woods and back. How could Eden go back to the woods, when I can’t see them at all? A more jarring thought occurred to her. Maybe Eden wasn’t really here. Maybe the pressure of the journey had finally driven Halley insane.
Reaching her hand out, Halley pressed her fingertips gently upon Eden’s shoulder. She could feel the warmth of Eden’s skin through her thin t-shirt. At least she feels real. But how come she can see things I can’t? For a moment, Eden seemed to shimmer in the bright sunlight. Remembering her earlier pledge to herself about not hiding from the truth, Halley began carefully,
“Eden…”
Eden’s giggle interrupted Halley’s question. “Of course I’m real, silly! As real as you and Trance and the baby, and the forest. I can see lots of things you can’t, because I’m only little. I can see unicorns and fairies and monsters and magic. You’re all grown now, so you hardly see anything at all!”
Halley nodded; there was truth in this. Maybe she could see the woods if she really tried – maybe she just didn’t want to.
She fingered the flower. She knew where it had come from, knew the waterfall place Eden had visited. Halley had seen it at the start of her journey; she could still see it in her mind’s eye as it had been that day. The desecration of the place had stopped her in her tracks: the dried up waterfall; the wildflowers chopped down and left to wilt in the sun. She contemplated the question she had asked over and over that day, “What’s happened here?”
She hadn’t understood who would want to destroy a place of beauty like that. She knew the answer now. It was Trance. The destruction of her waterfall place had been meant to shake her foundations, to help him destroy her. I met him that very night, in the tree shelter. He must have followed me from that spot. She felt a surge of anger. How dare he! How dare he destroy that place!
Eden interrupted her thoughts. “The flower looks so pretty. I wish I’d got one for me too,” she said mournfully. “But I was trying to hurry.”
The flower: the wonderful, living flower! Trance had failed! He hadn’t been able to destroy her soul-place, because he hadn’t known the truth about wildflowers. Or about her.
The wildflowers have grown back. They’ve self-seeded! Just like me, just like I’ve always come back from the edge. How could I have forgotten they do that!
Her soul-place was remade: she could see the waterfall gradually re-flowing through cracks in the dam; the scarlet ibises returning to bathe; the wildflowers abundant and colorful; the earth fertile and moist.
He couldn’t destroy it. He can’t destroy me.
Eden had fashioned herself a bamboo backpack just like Halley’s, and from it she pulled bananas and two fresh coconuts. They had a small feast, and then moved on.
Silence held them softly as they walked. The day was balmy, a temperature so comfortable they seemed to merge with the air, like they would the water in a perfectly warmed bathtub. Every now and then, Halley reached up to touch the flower, rubbing the petals gently between two fingers.
Between them, there was no need for words, and they simply followed their feet across the yellow landscape. The day wore on, and the serenity in which they walked was dreamlike: the grass flowing unchanging beneath their feet; their gentle breathing in and out; the warm moist air. Though they moved forward, the lack of variance in the landscape made it seem they weren’t moving at all, but simply floating in space.
“Halley?” Eden said, after a long silence.
“Yes?”
“Who’s Fernando?”
Halley turned to look at her.
“He was my boyfriend. How did you know his name?”
Eden looked her right in the eye.
“You were talking in your sleep last night. You said his name… you sounded sad…but angry too, all at once. You woke me up.”
“I’m sorry…” Halley looked away. “I was upset. But I’ve made peace with it now. I’ve finally let go of him.”
“Really?”
“Yup.”
“Then why are you making fists?”
Halley looked down at her hands in surprise. “I don’t know.” She shook out her hands, and flexed the fingers open and closed.
“Did he make that for you?” Eden asked, pointing at Halley’s bamboo backpack.
Halley’s snort of laughter held no humor. “This? No. He would hate this.”
“Why?”
“Not trendy enough.” She rubbed one of the shoulder straps with her fingertips. That stupid, goddamned black backpack he’d given her…
“What are you thinking about?”
Halley looked at her. A gentle breeze stirred the hair at the back of her neck. “He did give me a backpack. A black one. I threw it away when I left him.”
“That was silly. Why did you do that?”<
br />
“Let’s just say I hated it.”
“Why?”
“Oh, Eden…you ask too many questions!”
Eden skipped a little way in front, and looked back at Halley.
“That’s because you want me to.”
Halley brushed the hair off her face. “Okay. He made it seem like I was an idiot for not knowing my old backpack was all wrong.” Her jaw felt tight. “Every time I put on the one he gave me, I remembered that, and I felt that way. Like a complete idiot…”
“Oh. It’s good you threw it away then.” Eden nodded once, agreeing with herself.
Halley had stopped walking. A frown of concern appeared on her face.
“What’s wrong?” Eden asked.
“Did you hear that?” Halley spun around in a circle. The plain looked very empty. “It sounded like a scream.”
“It sounded a bit like a gibbon, didn’t it?”
“We’re not in the woods anymore – there are no gibbons here,” Halley said.
“Oh.”
They both listened closely.
“There it is again!”
“Maybe…maybe it’s a bird – we’ve seen lots of those…” The sound grew in volume and Eden shivered. “It gives me the creeps. Halley, let’s go back…let’s just go back the way we came.”
“Shhh…listen…now it sounds like laughing…like a woman, laughing…”
“It’s not a very happy laugh though, is it?”
They began to walk again, Halley feeling ill at ease. The pleasure of their solitude evaporated. The tall yellow grass stood at knee height all around them. Halley towered above, and she felt very tall and very visible. It made her glad that Eden was short. It was the first time that Eden had seemed scared.
A strangely flattened area of grass appeared in front of them. Eden reached the place first, and bent down in the flattened patch. She was suddenly hidden from sight. Halley didn’t like how it looked; it was like she’d been swallowed whole. Almost immediately, Eden stood up again. She looked as if she’d been struck by a viper.
“What’s the matter?”
Out of The Woods Page 13
