At Least They're Committed

I feel not warm nor cool, neither the moss beneath my khaki pants nor the dew on my bare feet as I sit crosslegged on the bank. The pool is quite small, no larger than the size of an average living room, but rounded. My brown sleeves are crossed in front of me. There is no wind, the water is smooth and stone calm. As is everything here.

Not sure how I got here, but I know I’m not really here. I’m in A’ilana’s bed at Ellen’s house in Conifer and it’s cozy and warm and dark there, but it’s none of those things here.

Ah yes. The years show themselves with great zeal as I catch my defeated reflection in the pool. The flesh no longer tight on my bones, the eyes sunken, the corners lined. As I stare in despair, there’s a splash to my left and my reflection disappears.

“Stop!”

There was no reflection but mine. But of course, there wouldn’t be, would there?

I say nothing and simply watch the broken pieces of my image through the ripples that circle outward.

“Don’t see that,” he says.

I don’t have to see to know how deeply I am in despair. My shoulders are hunched, I uncross my arms and flop forward.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he says.

“Failed rite of passage,” I say, my eyes clenched tight, my jaw rigid. “Again.”

He nods and we sit for what seems an excruciatingly long time. Somewhere else, I realize my heart is racing, I realize it’s not enough to do me in, but just enough to make me toss in this semi-catatonic state in the dark in A’ilana’s bed at Ellen’s house.

“I failed,” I say at last, feeling nothing. Not the air, the earth, the light, nothing. “‘I did.’”

He winces, knowing full well what I mean. “Another failure perhaps,” he admits and we sit and we sit and finally he glances my way, every ounce of me embattled, beaten, bloodied. “But not yours.”

I look to him, then look away. It hurts.

“. . . IF there is failure here, then he failed himself,” Gabriel is strict; a chiding adult.

Were I not all cried out I would find more tears in the sigh that starts somewhere at my soul and racks my body as expelled. That I felt.

“It wasn’t about me . . . I just tried to show him . . .”

” . . . I know,” he says.

I nod.

“How long have I been doing this now?” I’m thinking back to high school. Trying to save Jace from his turmoil. To college with Mitch, to Denver and Paul, to Darrell to . . .  “did you see what Bob wrote me?”

He chortles, scoffs and smiles big. “Uh-huh.”

“I tried to save him, too,” I say. “Before he bolted on me, before he ran away all those years ago I told him, ‘Now you know what you’re worthy of. You see a healthy relationship — I am not the only woman like this out there. Go find someone who makes you happy, who empowers you and supports you and I will be happy for you.’”

Gabriel’s head is nodding emphatically, “And what did he do?”

“He went back to his wife; he dived headfirst into the dysfunction and unhappiness and there he has stayed.”

” . . . as many other not-so-dramatic examples as that, but can you be held accountable for that?”

I shrug. “Can I? I don’t know. So many failures; so many failed rites of passage. . . this hasn’t been such a good year, or even a good chapter.”

He stiffens, as if he’d been simply waiting for me to say that. “That’s where you’re wrong.” He smacks me on my left arm, THAT I also felt. Ow!

“Hmmmm,” is all I muster.

“The one that went wrong, all wrong; the one that started your year so poorly; the one who enacted his closure upon you in . . . well . . . ,” he says, his voice low and soft and I can’t help but cup my hand over my mouth and giggle about the ‘closure.’ “THAT is working out OK so far,” he says. “His resistance was good! It was all right!”

“Huh . . . K,” I puzzle, maybe blushing just a bit. Didn’t feel good at the time. Yet, I can kind of see what he means.

“The love and loathing, it’s part of a healthier process, one you don’t need to be a part of, one you fulfilled your role in unwittingly, yet swimmingly,” Gabriel is way too enthusiastic as he says this. I’m not feelin’ it.

I look back to the pool, “Huh, he just seems a bit over the top, ya know? Overzealous? Over invested? Naive?”

“He’s listened and learned more than you think,” Gabriel  says. “More importantly, he’s not your problem anymore . . . ”

“K.”

“And that takes me to the next successful rite of passage and oh, yes, it’s this year, too!”

I can’t possibly imagine what he’s talking about but, hell, I’m listening.

“You rid yourself of The Two, you made it right. Do you see what you did? All these years you felt responsible for them because you’d applied the same devotion and commitment to their well-being as you did this last, brutal loss.”

True.

“And they went backward,” he adds.

“Yes. They decided they could just stay as they were, scurried back under the rock, to the safety of their stagnant existence . . ., ” I reflect.

“Right!” he slaps his knee and his face is close to mine and his eyes burn into me and his voice is a whisper. “And they gambled you’d always be there for them to fill in aaaaall those gaps they cowardly refused to face on their own. But you didn’t have to. And now you know that.”

And now, I see, “What Ellen said last night, about this time. About what he said . . . he knew more than he let on. But, you know, like the others. . .  well, whatever, I just wanted him to be happy.”

Gabriel pauses and sighs, “And maybe he is and maybe he can be and maybe he will be . . . but . . . ”

“It’s not up to me,” says I and I’m aware I should shout it to the heavens and feel liberated of the responsibility and maybe one day I will, but now I just mumble it and it just feels like defeat.

“Right,” he says and starts to fade. “Save yourself.”

The ripples in the water have gone calm, my reflection clearer than even before. Dishwater hair lies in waves around my face, my chest under my brown shirt is flat, the smears of mascara gone from my eyes, which are bright. My jaw is taut and I smile a brilliant white smile. I am ageless: neither man nor woman nor boy nor girl. It’s good to see myself, if only for a moment. I breathe again . . . and I am in A’ilana’s bed at Ellen’s house in Conifer and it’s cozy and warm and dark here. My heart has stopped racing . . .