The Return(58)

I noticed a flicker of sadness in her expression.

“I do,” she said. “I always have. Growing up, I went to church every Sunday and Wednesday nights. Good Baptist. I used to enjoy it, and I thought that I understood the way things were supposed to work. But as I grew older, I realized that I didn’t. I know that God created us with free will, but I’ve never understood why there’s so much suffering in the world. Why would God, who’s supposed to be all good and loving, allow innocent people to suffer? I remember searching for the explanation in the Bible, but it’s not in there. It’s the biggest question there is, but there’s no answer. And I see it all the time in my work. I see it everywhere. But…why?”

“I don’t know. And I can’t say that I know much about the Bible, either. My favorite part of church was staring at the girls.”

“Ha,” she snickered, clutching her cup with both hands. Then, in a subdued voice, “Do you know why I came out here?”

“I have no idea.”

“Because this was one of the last places I can remember being truly happy. I’d never heard of this place before I moved here, but I remember coming out here late in the summer. The water was perfect, and I spread out a towel to get some sun. And as I lay there, I thought about how wonderful everything was. My life was everything I wanted it to be, and I was just…absolutely content. I wanted to feel that way again, even for an instant.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Did you feel it?”

“No,” she said. “That’s why I brought the wine. Because if I couldn’t feel happy, then I didn’t want to feel anything at all.”

I didn’t like what she was saying, my worry for her growing more pervasive. Perhaps she sensed my concern, because she moved the bottle behind us, then scooted closer to me. Instinctively, I put my arm around her shoulder and neither of us said anything. Instead, we stared toward the river, watching as the celestial light made the water flicker hypnotically.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” she said, sighing. “Being out here at night?”

“Yes,” I agreed. “I didn’t think it was allowed.”

“It’s not. But I didn’t care.”

“Obviously.”

“You know what else I was thinking about while I was out here? Before you came?”

“I have no idea.”

“I was thinking about the bees. And the alligators and the eagles and the dinner on the porch. I was happy then, too. Maybe not perfectly content, but…happy. For the first time in a long time, I kind of felt like myself again and while I was sitting out here, I realized how much I miss that. But…”

She trailed off. When she didn’t finish her thought, I asked the obvious.

“But what?”

“I realized that I’m not supposed to be happy.”

Her comment jolted me. “Why would you say that? Of course you are. Why would you think that?”

Instead of answering, she took another swallow from her cup. “We should probably get going. Or at least, I should go. It’s getting late.”

“Please don’t change the subject. Why wouldn’t you think you’re supposed to be happy?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Maybe I would, if I knew what you were talking about.”

In the silence, I heard the soft sound of her breaths, could feel the subtle movement beneath my arm. “Sometimes, in life, you’re confronted with an impossible decision, with no happy ending, no matter what you choose. Like…imagine you’re married with three kids, and you’re rock climbing with your wife, and something goes wrong. You’re dangling from the cliff, with no rope; one hand is on the rock, and the other hand is holding your wife, and you’re getting weaker and you know that there’s no way you can save both your wife and yourself. So you either have to let go of your wife—and live with her death—or you both have to die and allow your children to be orphaned. In that situation, neither decision will make you happy. That sort of thing.”

I thought about what she was trying hard not to say.

“You’re talking about choosing between me and the other guy.”

She nodded, her mouth a tight line. “But I don’t want to talk about it right now, okay? It’s all I’ve been thinking about since I last saw you, and I’m so tired and I’ve been drinking. It’s not the right time. I’m not ready.”

“Okay,” I said, with difficulty. I loved her. I longed to talk about us, about our future. I wanted to convince her that she could be happy with me, that I’d do everything possible to show her she’d made the right decision by choosing me. “What would you like to talk about?”

“Nothing,” she said. “But can you just sit here and hold me for a while?”

I pulled her closer, and we sat in silence on that cool and dark spring evening. In the distance, I saw cars passing over the bridge; lights were glowing in the houses across the river. The air was growing moist, thickening, and I predicted there would be a heavy layer of fog in the morning, blurring the verdant landscape into a world of shadows.

Natalie dumped the remainder of her wine into the water, barely making a splash; I focused on the heat of her skin and the way her body curved into mine. I thought back on our date, and the softness of her lips the first time we kissed. Closing my eyes, I knew that I loved her, no matter what.