Equinox (standard:fantasy, 1874 words)
Author: Cyrano	Added: Apr 13 2012	Views/Reads: 5891/2203	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Love survives everything, even death, on a certain day and within a certain time. 12 hours.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story


“Come inside, out of the rain,” I offer. “You've caught me a little by
surprise.” 

“James, I don't know what to say, but I did want to come and see you...I
hope that you understand...you know what I mean.” She speaks in a weak, 
hesitant voice augmented by gesturing hands. 

“I know what you mean...” I lie, “it's lovely to see you. Come on in.
Let's have a cup of tea, a chance for you to dry out.” 

“Am I the one, James, is it me?” 

The visit has raised my spirits, though what she is asking I'm not sure.
I'm not exactly the dark knight riding the petticoat shoreline. 

Another shedding tear secrets its way down my cheek before I'm brought
back to realization by a clap of thunder, sent I wonder, by Thor 
himself. We walked these hills as much as we could, when we got home 
Katherine would make her way to the hen house; a dozen fresh eggs, and 
in the afternoon make a few scones, an apple pie or a couple of small 
cottage pies in foil containers. Simple, thoughtful and practical gifts 
she left on doorsteps of friends. She may be gone, but remains a part 
of this community. Perhaps the only difference, I wonder with a smile, 
is that our friends might starve to death! 

I slink down into my great jacket and keep walking. 

Katherine, torn between entry and escape, goes into the bag hanging from
her shoulder and pulls out a magazine. 

“Please...come inside.” I repeat, not wanting to frighten her away.
“You'll catch a death!” 

“Here...this is for you.” She hands me the magazine. 

“It is?" I remark, brushing wetness from its cover. “Astronomy Monthly?
Interesting. Now come in and explain. I'll get you a towel.” 

Katherine enters as if stepping on ice. 

“Have a seat at the kitchen table. I'll put the kettle on,” I say,
grabbing for a towel.” 

So many thoughts were going through my mind. How it felt to be so close
to her. Why the visit? I had dated women, yes, but never considered 
anything more. Yet, just the fact of her sudden presence reminded me of 
how flat, how dull and lifeless my days had become; days when mundane 
chores, such as getting out of bed and shaving were a steep mountain to 
climb. Here I am, most unexpectedly, with this near stranger, but it 
felt like another bright day, a brighter spirit, I felt like new 
optimism and a determination to do something, anything...an 
invigorating shower, a shave, even a clean shirt! 

She's still drying her hair as I settle the teacup in front of her. The
magazine lies on the table. 

“You okay?” I ask, trying to reassure her. 

“It's you, isn't it, James?” 

“It certainly is.” I reply, smile broadening. 

“You just don't know it yet,” she offers back, sipping at hot tea.” 

“Don't lose that magazine, James. Promise?” 

I pick up the magazine. Place it next to my heart, holding it flat there
with both hands. 

“There. That is where it will stay.” My smile is becoming a grin. 

As if a lightning bolt had struck away her first reservations, she
smiled. It was as wide and as beautiful as any clear dawn. I loved her 
height, slightly taller than average, with a high slim waistline 
serving to emphasize the length of her slender legs. She could well 
have been a ballet dancer and the lightness of her step and the 
slightly outward disposition of her feet as she walked reinforced my 
opinion. Her skin was clear and I could detect only the most discreet 
application of any make up. The outline of her face was framed as a 
classically oval silhouette, with the slightest of elongations towards 
the rounded point of her jaw. Her eyes were dark and deep set above 
high cheekbones. My first impression of her had been as I would have 
viewed a life sized porcelain doll. 

“Why did you ask if I was the one, Katherine?” 

She looks sad again and I'm mad at myself for asking. 

“Do you see the date on the magazine, James?” 

My first thought is, so what if its out of date, you want me to have it.
But I check out the date anyway. 

“Wow, that's some miss-print.” 

“Maybe. Maybe not, James.” 

“Oh no, definitely, Katherine. May 15 2022! Yes, I'd say a miss-print.
Last time I looked at my calendar we were still in 2012!” 

I jump out of my own skin as Frank Ferguson, the rowdy, but kindly
neighbor, splashes by in his tractor, yelling something about it being 
a grand day. How did he age so much? And when did he buy a new tractor? 
I hardly remember the half mile here, but feel suddenly warm and happy. 


Your eyes spoke of a love that would never die. You told me in our
marriage vows I would never be alone. You told me someday I would be 
able to hear the wind, and everything you said, I believed. Our love 
was such a fragile thing, yet... did anything ever feel so right? Like 
you are the inner voice of my soul and we were so great together. What 
changed that? Who - or what took you away? At what point did the light 
in your eyes die? I don't know any longer. When did it first happen? 
When did you die, bit for bit? What made you slip from me, like dry 
sand between fingers, pouring slowly away yet leaving grains that cling 
to a weeping wet soul? I don't know anymore. But in the end you are 
just a shadow on a shoreline I hardly notice anymore. You died so long 
before I understood, and me with you, inseparable. If one dies, so does 
the other. Perfect love, in perfect death, but I cannot help but hear 
the whisper in my head, that one moment of perfect beauty.... so 
perfect nothing will ever be the same, I can never be the same; a part 
of me will forever belong to you. Like that time on the ocean when we 
were fully ourselves, and you pledged to me your love. ‘It is you,' you 
said. And I believed you. I hide the memory of your love but memories 
are all that I have. Can you remember? Are you out there, somewhere, 
thinking of me? Is it you, I ask? 

Coming over the hill, down a meandering road, a tall, slender, aging
woman treads closer toward me. I open the mailbox, removing the paper 
and note the date: May 15 2020. It is the first Equinox of the year, 
and it is falling to the west. 

“If a new life is to be built, let's begin it right here. Okay?” 

So many questions float in the air. Why did you leave? Why have you come
back? Questions not asked, only thought. 

“You always had me believe that one day I would understand, finally, and
everything would make sense. I love you. Let's walk.” And I took her 
hand. 


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