The Rope Swing

“That’s my foot!”

“Sorry, sorry.  I can’t see a damned thing.”

“Just stay on the path.”

“Did you miss the part where I can’t see anything?”

“Is this the turnoff?”

“Hold on”

A small flame flares in the darkness.

“This is it.  It’s not as dark in the clearing.”

The sounds of snapping twigs and rustling leaves disturb the stillness of the night forest.  A pit is dug and wood piled beside it.  The fire starts small and weak.  It grows stronger and stronger throwing off heat and light.

He kneels beside the pit, feeding the flames.  She sits on the edge of the circle of light watching him.

“We don’t need to start a forest fire.”

He stops and looks up at her.  “I like my fires big”

“You like everything big.”

“That’s why I was such a great actor.”

“Or bullshit artist.”

“That too.”

She shakes her head laughing and rises to gather more wood.

“If you don’t want such a big fire stop bringing me fuel.”

“Pace yourself sir.  Just because it’s there doesn’t mean you have to use it all.”

“I’ve never been good with that.”

“I’ve noticed.”

A heavy silence falls over the clearing.  The silence of things unsaid.  The silence of things long past the point of redemption.

A wisp of moon appears from behind the black shadow of a cloud.  Pine trees like sentinels ring the clearing.  A thick rope hangs from a high branch.  The rope ends in a loop.  The loop is slung over a low branch.  A steep hill slopes toward a narrow river slicing through salt marsh flats.  The smell of brine blows in off the water.

She walks toward the rope and reaches out to touch the loop.

“Gonna swing?”

She laughs and shakes her head.  Dropping her hand she turns back to the fire.  “You?”

“I’m thinking about it.”

She laughs again.  “Do you remember the time the rope broke?”

“How could I forget?  I ended up soaking wet in February.”

“And I waked all the way back to the car in a sweater and long johns because I gave you my pants and jacket.”

They both laugh at the memory.  He stands and stretches.  “Well it’s June, so if I fall in you won’t have to give me your pants.”

“I’ll just stay here by the fire.”

“Rope swings are still fun even when you’re thirty.  So are jungle gyms and trampolines.”

“You must be a great dad.”

“My kids don’t complain…much.  My wife does though.”

“Somehow that’s not surprising.”

He shrugs and lifts the loop off the branch.  She listens to his footfalls.  She remembers that halfway down the hill your feet can’t touch anymore and then you sail out, away from the hill, over the water.  She closes her eyes and thinks of how it feels like flying.

“Yee Haaaaa!”

She smiles to herself as she hears footsteps running up the hill.

“That felt fantastic.  You should give it a go.”

“Nope, I’m all set thanks.”

He smiles widely at her.  “You were always a little afraid of that swing.”

“I was never keen on the idea of ending up on my ass in the mud.”

His smile fades.  “Have it your way.  You usually do.”

“Are we out here to resurrect old grievances?”

“No.” 

She turns her gaze to the fire.  When she finally speaks her voice is soft.  “Then why did you invite me out here?”

“Why did you agree to it?”

“I asked you first.”

She looks directly at him.  He shifts uncomfortably under the weight of her stare.  “Stop looking at me like that.”

“How do you know what I’m looking at you like?  You aren’t looking at me.”

“I could be blind and I would still know exactly how you are looking at me right now.  It’s your hold-your-gaze-until-they-break-down stare.”

She shakes her head.  “I’m waiting for an answer, not a break down.”

“You are so stubborn.”

“One of us had to be.”

“What does that mean?”

“You were always so quick to bend.”

“Let’s not do this.”

“You started it.”

He throws his head back and laughs.  It is a real laugh, deep and true.  Her eyes flash for a moment and then soften.  Soon she joins him in his laughter.  He finally sighs and lays back to look at the stars.  “I’m not entirely sure why I asked you to come here with me.  I felt it was necessary somehow.”

She nods slowly and rises.  The fire has burned low and she stirs the coals with a long stick.  She reaches for more wood when he takes her hand and points toward the sky.

“Do you remember the night we slept on the beach and made new constellations?”

She stares at their entwined fingers and does not respond.

“We were tracing the stars and trying to find patterns and shapes.  You found a hawk.”

 She closes her eyes and holds her breath.  He turns his face to her.  “Do you remember?”

She remains silent.

“I do.  I can’t look at the night sky without seeing it.”  He touches her face and she opens her eyes.  “Why is it that I still think of you every time I look at the stars?”

She closes her eyes again and shakes her head slightly.  A teardrop falls into her lap.

“I need something from you.  I don’t know what.”

Her cheeks glistened in the waning firelight.  “I have nothing for you.  It was a long time ago.”

He holds her gaze and her hand for a long time.  She does not look away.

“You’re right.  It was a long time ago.”  He lets go of her hand and lays back.  “Can you still see it?”

She smiles.  “Yes.”

“I need to know that I’m not still in love with you.”

He stands and goes back to the swing.  He begins to swing in lazy arcs over the water.

She watches him for several minutes before responding.  “You want closure.”

“Yes.”  His voice floats in off the water. 

She shivers.  “Where do we start?”

“I was hoping you’d have some idea.”

She began feeding the fire.  He lightly ran up the hill and hooked the loop on the branch.  He sits near her.  “Do you think it would have worked if we had stayed together?”

She pauses.  “Sometimes.  Then I remember what an asshole you were.”

“Hey, you were no saint.”

“Never claimed to be.”

He pauses.  “So why did you come out here?”

She sits back and sighs.  “I wasn’t sure at first.  I guess I need something from you as well.  You have been my one big regret.”

He turns the words over in his mind.  “If I hadn’t fallen in the river that night would you have told me you were in love with me?”

“No.” 

The moon began her descent into the dark waters of the marsh.  She rises and walks to the low hanging branch.  She unhooks the rope and begins to run.  He listens to her footfalls.  He knows that halfway down the hill her feet won’t touch anymore and then she will sail out, away from the hill, over the water.  He closes his eyes and thinks of how it feels like flying.

He hears her laugh.  A real laugh, deep and true.  And then he hears the rope snap, the splash of water and her laugh once again.  He opens his eyes and stands.  He starts down the hill, unbuttoning his jacket as he goes.