Red Sky: Chapter 15
The boat gently rocked.
“Stop it.”
“Stop it,” Aya said again.
My eyes were closed as I rowed.
“There’s no one else on the lake. There’s nothing for me to hit.”
I opened my eyes and looked at her.
“I thought you were the one afraid of drowning,” she said.
“And I thought you were the one who was going to jump in and save me.”
“I’m beginning to have second thoughts about that.”
I kept rowing. We were halfway across the lake. The mid-afternoon sun was still high in the sky. The air was pleasantly humid, my shirt sticking to my skin with each motion as I moved the oars back and forth in the water.
“I think it’s your turn,” I said.
“Okay.”
“I was joking.”
“I can if you’re tired.” She started to stand in the boat.
“No, don’t.”
“Now who’s scared of falling in?” She laughed.
“Okay you win. I’ll keep my eyes open.”
“It’s not about winning.”
“It’s always about winning.”
“Not with me.”
“You’re the noble sort?”
“I like to think so.”
“Have you done it often?”
“What?”
“Row across this lake?”
“Yes.”
“In this boat?”
“Of course.”
“Did you ever have races?”
“Don’t you dare.”
“What’s your fastest time?”
“I would already be across by now.”
“You would, would you?”
“Yes.”
“It’s too late. We’re almost there. We’ll race on the way back.”
She looked behind her towards her cabin, which was not visible from the lake. Her eyes wandered the shoreline, then to the sky and the sun. She shielded her eyes. The blades of the oars made miniature waves with each movement. I looked down into the dark blue. The water was dense and obscured everything below the surface. I could only see the surface ripples trail off behind each stroke, white foam against the dark blue.
The sunlight skimmed off the top of the lake like a skater on ice leaving faint marks across the water. It hit Aya on her right side, me on my left, as we sat facing each other in the boat. The light and shadow on her face highlighted her features, like a painting by one of the old masters, an artform that was no longer practiced but existed in museums and universities. She squinted at me. I looked past her into trees far in the distance behind her, their green washed light by the sun, then back to her, her face now set against the unfocused pastel backdrop. I pictured her, the image of her, as the impressionists must have pictured the world. I wished we still used the old techniques and had mastery of the old artforms, they made the world a more beautiful place, they made the world a more perfect place with their imperfections.
The sun went behind a cloud and Aya stopped squinting. Her eyes focused on me. She looked away down at my hands as they continued to move back and forth and then back up into my eyes once again.
“I’m going to take the job in the District, the law job” she said.
“Oh?”
“Does that surprise you?”
“It’s a good opportunity.”
“It’s a great opportunity.”
“Have they made you an offer?”
“Yes.”
“That’s great news.”
“It is.”
I looked away from her down to the water again. She was still looking at me, perhaps waiting for the inevitable question. I didn’t say anything. I kept rowing. Concentrating on the rowing.
“Have you found anything yet?” she asked.
“There’s a few things I’m looking at. There’s a job in Marsden I might take.”
Without realizing it, my rowing sped up.
“Marsden? That’s far.”
“Yes, it is.”
I looked back up to her. It was her turn to look away. She looked down at the water as a family of ducks swam by, heading for the opposite shore, the little ducklings following their mother making ripples in much the same way the white water flowed from the blades of my oars. Aya and I watched them without saying anything.
“I might stay around here, too, if I find something. I haven’t decided yet.” I said after the ducks disappeared out of sight.
There was silence for the rest of the trip. It was a rhythmic silence. The silence of the oars in the water, of birds and crickets singing and chirping along the edges of the lake, of the occasional splash into the water by a diving bird. There was also sound. The sound of the words and sentences and questions running through our heads, finishing the conversation of jobs and futures and cities and locations.
We reached the other side and I tied the bowline to the dock piling. I took Aya’s hand as we stepped off the boat. It was time to get supplies for the rest of the weekend.
*
The general store was along a small slip of shops that was only a couple of blocks long. The clerk looked bored as Aya and I foraged.
“Do you want some bread. I think we’re out of bread.” I said putting a loaf into my basket.
“Milk. We need milk, too.” Aya said.
“I’m not sure it will make the trip back. Might spill.”
“Eggs, we need eggs”.
“They definitely won’t survive the trip back.”
“Then what’ll we have for breakfast tomorrow.”
“Toast.”
“We’ll get a dozen and see how many make it.”
“It might get messy.”
The music of a band filtered from outside the shop. Aya was looking at the advertisements near the front counter.
“What’s the music for?” She asked the clerk.
“There’s a dance every Saturday night.” The bored clerk replied.
“That sounds fun. We should go.” Aya turned to me as I studied the egg cartons.
“Go where?”
“To the dance.”
“What about the food?”
“We can get it later. Come on it will be fun.”
“We should probably head back across the lake before it gets dark.”
“You’re so boring.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
She started taking the food out of the basket and putting it back on the shelves. With only a couple of items left in the basket I set it down on the counter.
“I’ll race you.”
And ran out of the shop, Aya trying to catch up from behind.
The concert was held in an open-air pavilion that overlooked the lake. The pavilion was surrounded by marshy grass that felt spongy underneath our feet, giving a spring to each step.
The band was still warming up, although a few of the couples tried unsuccessfully to dance to the stopped and started music. There were about forty people there, either standing or sitting, waiting for the concert to begin. I felt a thrill as I walked with Aya through the crowd, holding her hand. This was the type of thing we could never do back in the city, back where we might run into acquaintances or friends or anybody at all. I pulled her towards me and gave her a kiss, more demonstrative than usual.
“What was that for?” she asked. I didn’t say anything as we kept moving forward.
We reached the dance floor and didn’t know what to do. We hovered at the edge like two pre-teens waiting for the chaperones to give us permission. The band stopped playing their tune up notes. This meant something to all of the other couples, as they moved towards the dance floor. We stayed hovering on the edge.
“Aren’t they lovely?” Aya said, as she watched a couple in their eighties slowly get up from a bench, arm and arm, and shuffle together towards the middle of the floor. They both had gray hair and moved deliberately, walking together in perfect time, something that must have been attained through decades of moving throughout the world together. One picks up the other’s movements and patterns and learns to anticipate them, to move with them in an elaborate subconscious choreography.
A loud note was struck from the bandstand and the slow movement of the couples sped up. The music started and the official concert and dancing began. Aya and I stood wide eyed on the edge of the dance floor, watching people two and three times our age move with a speed and grace we didn’t think our younger bodies were capable of. I laughed. She laughed. We looked at each other, smiling, like we didn’t have any choice in the matter.
We went out onto the dance floor and danced. We didn’t blend in, the youngest couple by at least three decades. We obviously had no idea what we were doing. We danced old-fashioned dances that neither of us knew, trying to keep up, failing to keep up, but not caring. After a half hour, we were exhausted, as the older couples showed no sign of slowing down.
“I need to get some water,” Aya said.
“I’ll go over and rest by the lake,” I said
Aya took off to find some water, I wandered over to the lake’s edge and sat on the spongy grass. The sun was setting. The sky was crimson. The light green of the trees had turned dark, the dark blue of the water had turned navy. All of the colors seemed too strong. I watched that sun set for a few minutes. There were more boats on the lake now. Not little row boats like ours, but well-fitted sailboats their sails appearing as white fins cruising high above the water. I watched them cut shapes into the horizon as the sun continued to set. A few minutes turned into a dozen then turned into a half an hour. The crimson was nearly gone. I wondered where Aya was.
Even though I knew nothing could have happened to her, it was a long time to be gone for a drink of water. I got up and walked the edges of the dance floor. Another ten minutes passed and I started to worry in the panicked way of those that are accustomed to losing things and never seeing them again.
My search picked up pace, no longer walking around the edges of the dance floor. I cut through the dancers, maybe Aya was dancing with someone, maybe she was in conversation with someone, where could she be. I was equal parts worried and annoyed. Annoyed that our fun little moment had been delayed, and maybe missed. Worried, I don’t know why I was worried. There was no reason to be worried, except that I was. I logically knew nothing had happened to her, but I couldn’t help myself. My heart started beating faster as I continued to look, a ridiculous irrational response to not being able to find someone amidst a crowd when you knew they were there, that they had to be there. I placed my hand on my chest to stop the beating, to slow down my heart, forcing myself to be patient, forcing myself to stop scanning the crowd.
An hour after she left to get a drink of water, I saw her standing amongst the couples in the middle of the dance floor, watching the band.
“How long have you been here?” I said, trying not to show I had been either worried or annoyed.
“I don’t know.”
“I thought you had disappeared, I lost you in the crowd.”
“I wanted to see if you would come and find me.”
I couldn’t tell if she was serious. Her look was distant. Wherever she was it wasn’t on that dance floor.
“Of course, I would come and find you,” I said. “I will always come and find you.”
“Would you?” She said as she took a step towards me, into me.
“Of course. You would want that, wouldn’t you?”
She didn’t answer. She put her left arm around my back, her right hand at my side. I took that right hand in my left and held it up, my right arm going around her waist. We started dancing again. Tight, against each other. It was a slow dance, completely out of time with the music and the other couples.
Aya’s head fell to my shoulder. Her hair brushing against my chin. A minute passed, maybe more. I felt her body stiffen. She pulled back and looked up at me. I looked down at her.
“We are two halves of the same whole,” she said. “Do you understand what that means?”
“Yes. I think so.”
“Do you really?”
“Yes.”
She studied my eyes like she was searching through a hall of mirrors, her eyes flitting back and forth with worry.
“I love you,” she said and kissed me with her eyes open.
“I love you, too,” I said back to her.
Her eyes were still circling mine, still trying to find a meaning I didn’t know I was hiding. Aya drew in a breath to speak again. I waited for her to say what she had been wanting to say, had been trying to say since the boat ride across the lake. She stopped herself and buried her head back into my body. We kept dancing. I could feel her breath through my shirt as we danced. I looked out into the last sliver of crimson on the horizon.
The song ended. There was light chatter on the dance floor. Aya stayed tight against me.
“I want you to remember that, no matter what happens.” She said without looking at me.
“What’s going to happen?”
“I want you to remember that we love each other, that we will always love each other.”
“What’s going to happen,” I asked again.
Her head slipped from my shoulder to my chest. The band started the next song. We stood still in the middle of the dance floor, gently rocking back and forth.
“I don’t know.” She said, her words muffled against my chest.
“I don’t know.” She repeated, barely audible.
She kept her head pressed against me. Her eyes were closed now. It was my turn to draw in a breath to speak. But I didn’t say anything.
The pace of the song picked up and the dancing of the other couples picked up as well. They moved around us like schools of fish swimming in a stream. We stayed in the middle of the floor. We continued to slow dance out of time to the fast music.