Fire in Winter

Karalyn walked beside me taking slow, deliberate steps. Her cautiousness was making me uneasy. Three years ago the sidewalk would not have been wide enough for her bouncing, dance-like motions. We were circling the pond at Berkshire Park. It was late afternoon but the sun was still high in the sky, a beautiful summer day. Karalyn wore a heavy black sweatshirt. I eyed it sadly. I tried to catch a glimpse of her face but her hair covered it like a veil, shielding her from the outside world. She was looking at the ground as she walked. I kept pace with her, taking a half step for every one of hers.
I was not used to this. I thought it would be…not the same, but similar. This was entirely new. I did not know the girl beside me. But I loved her. Yes, I definitely loved her. There was a time when I could admit this to her and she’d turn those warm brown eyes on me and say, “Well, of course you do! Where would we be if you didn’t?” And she’d press her lips to mine and the fire would spread through my veins, making me as warm as she. I don’t know why, or how, I ever let that Karalyn go. I’d spent the last three years regretting that decision, loving her from a distance as I watched other guys realize my mistake. One of them especially scared me, keeping his arm around her for over a year, making her happier than I ever did. Then he let her go; without regretting it, it seemed. That’s when she started to change.
I didn’t notice at first. I was too consumed with my first feeble attempt to win her back. She pushed me away, of course. So I took a seat again, watching the game from the bench. I watched longingly as some guys struck out and some hit home runs.
It’d been so long since I was actually with Karalyn. I now considered how real my feelings for her could be. I loved her, but to what extent? How could I love a Karalyn that no longer acted like Karalyn? Was it a person’s actions that you fell in love with, or their heart? Their mind? Their soul? Do you love a person’s smile, or how often they show it?
As if reading my mind, Karalyn looked up. Her worried eyes swam through the air until they found mine. Her lips curved upward, exposing her teeth. It was a smile, but it wasn’t right. It was…apologetic?
“I’m being ridiculous, aren’t I?” she asked. “Avoiding the lines on the sidewalk.” She shook her head back and forth as she looked back down.
“Is that what you’re doing?” I tried to make my voice sound light, joking, but it came out all wrong.
“Mmm,” was all she said in response.
I scanned the horizon quickly, looking for something of interest. Then I spotted it.
“Look!” I said, pointing to a crane diving on the other side of the pond. Her head snapped up reflexively. She walked fearfully, like someone who was blind-folded walking dangerously close to a cliff. I placed my hand carefully on her left shoulder to guide her. I tried not to let myself get too worked up over the fact that I was actually touching her again. I resisted the urge to reach down and grab her hand, touch her skin. I didn’t want her to think she’d given me the wrong idea by accepting my invitation to this rendezvous. As she became entranced by the beauty of the bird her gait developed into a more natural stride. Evidence, I thought. Proof that my Karalyn was still in there. She could always appreciate beauty.
The crane was gone all too soon, but she didn’t put her head down right away. We strolled along for a few more minutes before she went back to watching the lines in the sidewalk. She stepped carefully over each one, and around all the cracks as well.
“Do you want to sit?” I asked as we passed an empty bench.
“Okay,” she said with the faintest tone of relief.
“So,” I said in an attempt to make conversation, “Are you happy to be home for the summer?”
“Kind of,” she answered glumly, which made me think she really meant “no.”
I waited for her to elaborate. When she didn’t I asked, “Home isn’t your favorite place, is it?” She looked at me, her expression blank. Behind her eyes I could see her asking herself whether or not she wanted to tell me the truth. She looked straight ahead again and took a deep breath.
“It’s…It’s not my least favorite place. I like being with my family and seeing my old friends. But there are too many…memories here, ya know?” I nodded. This was the most she’d said all day. “Not bad memories,” she continued, "Well, some bad, but the good ones are worse. They haunt this place. They haunt me.” Her voice broke on the last word. I realized with growing horror that she was scared. She slowed down her breathing, blinked twice, and looked at me. I think she wanted me to tell her she’s not crazy. Maybe she was just waiting for me to get up and walk away without a backward glance. Who knows?
“I can understand that,” I said thoughtfully. Whatever it was that she wanted to hear, this seemed to satisfy her. She smiled, but it didn’t touch her eyes. I watched her as she watched the pond. Something about her posture made me think she was anticipating another question.
This is how our online conversations often went these last few weeks. I started talking to her while she was still up at school. I would ask her general questions, to which she would offer one-word replies. I would keep asking anything I could think of until she gave in and gave me a real conversation. Even after that though, she would only speak in response to something I said.
Online, I tried to hold out until the awkwardness would force her to say something, but I never could hold out long enough- I thirsted to hear more of what she had to say. But now I had her, really here, sitting and breathing beside me. I wanted to hear her voice, of course, but this would be enough for now. I reclined slightly, stretching my legs out in front of me, and put my right arm on the back of the bench. If Karalyn leaned back it would look like my arm was around her. She looked so hopeless. Karalyn wasn’t supposed to look like this. Hope was something she always had an excess of. Hope, and faith, and love. Happy suited her better than sad.
It was different for me. Depression fit my bitter being like a coat in winter. I was naturally negative and skeptical. It took a while for people to notice the difference, and by the time they did I’d already resented them for not seeing it sooner. I pushed them away. I pushed her away. Karalyn’s sadness was so much more obvious. Depression engulfed her like…like a heavy black sweatshirt on a bright summer day.
She looked back at me suddenly, as if remembering I was there.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I zone out a lot. I’m not good at….conversation….these days.” It hurt me to see how hard she was trying, how careful her words were.
“It’s okay. I don’t mind silence.” It was true; I hated it when most people spoke. I found it annoying. Her voice, however, I could listen to forever. She looked relieved again. She nodded a few times and leaned back against the bench. I curled my arm to better fit the slump of her shoulders. I thought I saw her eyes tighten a bit when I did this, but I didn’t move my arm, and she didn’t move away.
We stared out at the pond again. The sun had finally started its descent. We squinted into the golden rays as people passed us by, blocking the sun at uneven intervals. With the cars out on the street and the birds and the people in the park, I was surprised that I heard what she said next.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“What for?”
“I don’t know exactly,” she said slowly. I thought back to one of our online conversations when she’d told me she felt “uninteresting” and I wondered if she thought of that now too.
“You don’t have to apologize to me. I’m not expecting anything from being with you Karalyn. I just know that I want to be. Here. With you.” I saw the first glimmer of hope in her eyes. It encouraged me to go on. “Or anywhere with you, really. As long as you’re there, it’s where I want to be. So don’t apologize.”
“Thank you for that.” She wasn’t smiling, but her features were happy, warm. She pushed the sleeves of her sweatshirt up to her elbows. I reached my left hand across my body and grabbed hers. The fire danced up my arm. Warmth spread throughout my body. At last, it didn’t feel like winter anymore.