Embrace

Two lovers climb a hill

The engine of the pale yellow VW bug rumbled as it sat idle on the side of the one-lane road. Its light split through the darkness that veiled the winding descent until it terminated as it collided against the side of the hill that the road had been carved through. 

“Jane!” The young man called from up the side of the hill. 

The edges of the light barely reached him as he extended his right hand down toward the young woman still lingering in the dust at the beginning of the climb. His other hand held open the cut portion of fencing. He wore a light gray sweater, and his long, brown hair was tied up in the back. 

“I’m nervous, Matt.” She said as she drew her shoulders together in an attempt to keep the cold at bay. 

A shiver shimmied its way down her spine despite the hoodie she wore as the salt-tinged winds blew over the top of the hill. She pulled down the gray knit cap over her ears. 

“I know... I know.” Matt responded. “Do you want to go back?” 

“No.” She said immediately, “I want to be here. I’m just nervous.” 

She let out a stream of air from her mouth and reached up for his hand. It was so very warm. 

“Are you sure?” Matt asked. 

“One hundred percent.” 

Matt swallowed the bead in his throat and helped her up the first climb. She fell forward and caught hold of the chain link fence to steady herself. After a moment of catching her breath, she squeezed beneath the opening and vanished into the dark. He followed soon after her �" the fencing snapping in place as he released it. 

The moon held in its place in the western skies; hung up by the thinnest sliver of horizon before it would vanish beneath the rolling, distant hills. Rivers of stars spanned the skies, and spun in their cosmic waltz, winding down the night and welcoming the new day. Both of these lent enough of their fading light to lead the pair up the path and toward their journey’s end.

Shelves of sand slid underfoot as Jane pushed on to climb the hill. Whenever it seemed like she would lose her footing and fall, he would be there with a hand on her shoulder, and a soft smile on his face to greet her when she looked back. 

It was that smile that first drew her in. They were freshmen in high school, and they shared an English class for fourth period, right before lunch. He sat two rows in front of her, among a group of his friends. He wasn’t the most attractive boy in school, nor was he the smartest or the strongest or the most athletic, but whenever he talked with his friends, something would inevitably make him laugh; and at that moment he would smile, that deep dimpled smile that would crease around his hazel eyes. It was a smile so pure that it moved something inside of her. 

Eventually, the infatuation with his smile got to the point to where she’d actively listen to the conversation between Matt and his friends to catch a glimpse at the moment of his laughter. Her gaze would linger on his alighted face, and whenever his eyes wandered toward her, her head would snap away as if she weren’t just looking at him. 

Jane stumbled again beneath the shifting slope, and Matt steadied her from behind. 

“I got you.” His hushed tones joined the cacophonous gull songs and the distant crashing of waves against stony cliffs. 

She looked back �" the shadow of the gray wool knit beanie covering her eyes. He smiled at her; the cheesiest smile he could muster. Briefly, color flushed through her cheeks, and her bright blue eyes were visible in the shade. She took two flowing steps backward for the briefest second and planted a warm kiss on his cheek. 

It was her eyes that drew him in. Two bright, cerulean orbs; as bright as noon. Her eyes and the way she moved. She had taken ballet since she was a child, and her movements in her everyday life reflected it. How fluid and graceful she would walk across the tiled floors of their school as if she were striding across steps of her. Whenever she was happy; her steps would flutter like a hummingbird’s wings, and her eyes would shine as bright as day. 

The first time that he noticed her crystalline eyes, was during a group project that his English teacher had given out near the end of their freshmen year in high school; perform one of the scenes from any one of Shakespeare’s plays. She was dragged to his group by her two friends in the class. The play they chose; and talked his group of friends into accepting, was Romeo and Juliet. Jane was chosen as Juliet, and he, with insistence from her friends, was chosen as Romeo, and, with the pressure that only a teenage girl could use on a teenage boy, the group decided that the scene they would do was the final scene. 

Half a week of preparation later, they were the first group up. Jane’s friend had cut open a hole in a pale blue bedsheet; barely large enough for Jane to squeeze her head through; while he wore a tailed coat that had probably been swiped from the choir room. They had him lie down over two desks pressed together with his hands crossed over his chest like a vampire in an old television show. While he lay there, and she recited her lines it was all he could do to not drown within the depths of those two sapphire pools. As she feigned her mourning, it was all he could do to stop his heart from exploding in his chest. 

From that point on he would try to snag passing glimpses of her eyes whenever he could. An ember had been placed, and those quick glances quickly breathed it into an inferno. 

The night was chilly for July. She couldn’t help but shiver whenever a breeze slipped down the slope and rushed down the hill to assail her. 

“Can we take a break?” She asked. 

Her breath came out in heavy, broken spurts of exhalation. 

“Of course.” 

Matt held onto her shoulder as she sat against a ledge of soil woven and held together by strands of dried grass and dead roots. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked. 

“I’m okay. Just a bit winded.” She answered with a small smile. 

They sat together �" her head pressed against her knees. A chill started to form beneath the collar of his polo as another gust of wind blew downhill. He drew her in with his hand on her shoulder to guard against the chilly winds. 

It was chilly that night too. It was the second to last week of their senior year; their class had gone on a camping trip to the Adirondack mountains. 

They had rented out an entire campground for the trip. His group’s assigned lot was next to her group. It was the last night of the weekend-long trip. A fire had been lit in every firepit in the campground, as seniors talked among themselves. As he had done every chance he could following the play in their freshmen year, he would steal a glance at her. Any time her head seemed to move in his general direction, his head would snap back to looking into the fire. 

As the night grew older, and weariness began to urge him to bed; he pushed himself off the log he had been sharing with Johnathan and took a deep breath, and headed over to where Jane was sitting, alone surrounded by the tents of her friends. 

“Jane?” He said a few feet away, “Can we talk?” He motioned to a spot some distance away from prying eyes and prying ears. 

“Sure.” She answered with a nod and a small smile. 

They went to the place at the edge of the campsite; where the flickering lights of the countless campfires ended, and the shadowy world of the forests began. She pressed her back against a tree, and he stood in the last dim rays of light. 

“Jane, I’m doing this now,” he began after swallowing the bead-sized lump of fear caught in his throat, “Because if I don’t I know I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.” 

“What is it, Matt?” 

He closed his eyes and steadied his breath. 

“Truth is, since we were freshmen, I’ve liked you. Like, really liked you. I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, and...” 

For the next ten minutes, he blurted out the four years of pent-up pining he had saved. How even her steps were as graceful as a falling petal, and how her eyes were like two chunks of noon. How he even went to some of her ballet recitals, and how she always treated those around her with complete, uncompromising kindness. Every single thing that he loved about her came pouring out as if a crack had been made into a dam; every word he spoke would bring light into her eyes; to the point that they sparkled brightly even within the shadow. 

“So, will you go out with me?” He asked, his eyes closed and his heart ready for a shattering. 

“Yes, definitely.” She answered, and he felt like fainting. 

“Are you ready, Jane?” Matt asked as he pushed himself off the ledge and held out his hand. 

Jane took it and Matt pulled her up to her feet. She swayed a bit before falling into him and planting a soft kiss on his lips. The path widened after the ledge so that they could walk side by side. She interlaced her fingers with his. His hand was warm. Like always. 

The first time they held hands was the Monday after graduating. It was their first date; a movie that had come out the month before that they both wanted to see. During a scene near the climax of the movie, when his attention was completely captured by the screen, she reached over to his arm that was resting on their shared armrest and placed her hand on top of his. 

His head snapped towards her, and his cheeks were bright red. Since then, whenever they were together and whenever they could, they held hands. He liked how smooth her’s felt, and she liked how warm his fingers were. That early August morning was no different. They were always warm, but more so on that day as they finished the climb and crested the hill. That was six and a half years back. 

Small green shrubs grew in bunches there; on patches of sturdier soil. The earth split and dropped into the waves careening against the sharp rocks below. Wind-shorn grass grew in between these bushes that formed a sturdy barrier between the clifftop and a rather sudden drop. Foamy peaks caught the light of the stars that twinkled above the ever-expanding ocean; causing the midnight ocean to sparkle as far as their eyes could see. 

“Thank you for taking me here, Matt.” She said as she leaned her head against his shoulder. 

“I’d do it anytime. I love you, Jane, more than anything.” 

Those words were first spoken between the two of them one afternoon late in autumn a year after they started dating. Matt had started working long hours at a packing house and had taken up smoking to ease the stress. Jane hated it, and she made it known very vocally. She hated how it smelled. She hated the stains forming on his fingertips, and she hated the cough she began to develop whenever he was around. 

One morning, three weeks into their argument she gave him an ultimatum �" he could quit smoking, or he could never see her again. They were words spoken in the heat of a moment during another yelling match between them; they were words she immediately wanted to take back. A moment passed between them in silence before he grabbed his coat, and stormed out of her house. 

The days passed slowly. She wanted to see him. Occasionally, she’d look at her phone and nearly give in to her compulsion to call him and apologize for her rash words, but then she’d get angry all over again. He chose cigarettes over her, after all. So she’d set her phone against her pillow and go about her day. Working, coming home, wanting to see him, and then going to sleep. His days passed in much the same manner. 

After nearly a month of this, Matt excused himself from work, grabbed his coat and his pack of cigarettes, and stormed out of the building as his bosses were trying to tell him to get back to work. He peeled out of the parking lot of the packing house and sped through town. The tires of the pale yellow VW squealed to a stop in the middle of the street by her house. He left the engine running as he stepped out into the rain, walked around Jane’s old BMW, and pushed through the front gate. 

He knocked three times on their heavy front door. Jane’s mother pulled open the door. 

“What do you want?” She asked.

She placed her body in between the threshold and the door, and Matt stepped back into the rain. 

“I want to see Jane.” He said. 

“She doesn’t want to see you.” She said.

“I want to apologize.” 

“It’s too late. Do you know how hurt she’s been? She cries every single night, 

Matt. Get lost, before I call the police.” 

Matt rolled his eyes and walked around their house; her mother following. 

“Matt for the love of god if you don’t leave right now I’m calling the cops.” 

“Call them.” Was all he said as he knocked softly on Jane’s window. 

Her mother left to go inside, as the room beyond the curtain came to life with sound. The window scrolled open, and Jane stood there; her brown hair was frazzled and unkempt, and her bright blue eyes red and puffy. 

Matt pulled the red box of cigarettes from his pocket, held it up in front of him, and threw them to the muddy ground in front of him. He crushed them further into the mud. 

“I don’t need these. I need you. Please, Jane. I’m sorry.” He said, “I love you. I love you more than anything. More than cigarettes, more than the whole world, more than life itself. I love you more than any man has ever loved a woman. I love you...” 

He continued pouring out his love for her for a minute and a half, her cheeks reddening with every word spoken. In the middle of his love-lorn rant, she pulled away from the window and ran through the house, and out the back door. She hugged him as soon as she turned the corner. As the cops pulled up, the two of them were still lip locked beneath the cold rain. That was five years ago. 

“It’s cold,” Jane said as she placed her head against his shoulders. 

They sat side by side; their feet dangling over the abyss. The stars were receding from the sky, as gray dawn began to climb over the rolling waves. 

Those words were spoken that night, a year and a half ago. It was the day after Christmas. Matt packed everything they would need in the back of his car; a couple of canvas chairs, soup, and coffee kept warm in metal thermoses. Heavy blankets, and heavy coats, and pulled out of his driveway to pick her up before dawn. 

They drove to the northernmost point of the cape of Maine., and place that had been recommended by a friend. For half a day they drove. They stopped to eat at a cheap diner at the side of the road and shared a plate of the biggest helping of biscuits and gravy they had ever seen. 

They parked the car off the side of the road while dusk was settling. It only took the two of them half an hour to ascend; both of them carrying bags full of the things that he had packed. The skies were clear that night as well, just as the forecast had predicted. They set up their canvas chairs near the edge of the cliff and watched the frost peaks of the waves roll in. 

Hours passed in conversation. A fire had been started to further warm them while night climbed and dominated the firmament. At about midnight, the hot chocolate reserves had run dry, and they were beginning to tap into their coffee when the skies lit up all at once. Undulating streams of pink, green and red lights danced across the heavens. 

“Is this...is this why we’re here?” She asked as her mouth hung agape.

The northern lights seemed all the brighter within her eyes.  

“You said you wanted to see it, didn’t you?” 

“Oh, Matt. Thank you.” She said. 

While she watched the dancing lights, he watched the amazement and fascination in her eyes. He reached beneath the woolly blanket, and into the front pocket of his jacket, and pulled out a small, black box. 

“Jane?” He whispered as the box sat atop his palm. 

Her head turned toward him. 

“Matt?” Her eyes darted to the felt box in front of her.

It snapped open with a push of his thumb. When the golden glimmer of the and, and the sparkle of the zirconium stone in the middle of it caught the dancing lights she placed her hand in front of her mouth to stop the gasp that had involuntarily sprung forth. 

“Jane. I love you. Will you marry me?” 

“Yes! Yes!” She answered as she snatched the box out of his hand.

She shoved it into her pocket and threw herself on top of him �" the chair she had been sitting on fell backward, and the aluminum frame of the one he was sitting on sank into the thin layer of snow. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she buried her face into his collar. The chilly night was made all the more bearable as her warm tears soaked into his coat. 

Hours passed in their passionate embrace. 

“It’s cold.” She muttered as the wintry winds raised goosebumps on the bare skin of her nape. 

Matt wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. Her thin shoulders pressed hard against his ribs. 

“Hmm.” She sighed, a faint smile painted across her face, “Much better.” She placed a hand on his chest and felt his rising and falling chest. “Thank you, Matt.” She whispered, “This is the happiest I’ve been for a long time.”

Matt placed his hand on hers. Every time he tried to form a response it all fell short, so he squeezed her hand and brought it up to his mouth to kiss her knuckles, and over the two small bumps of her viscous veins where the IVs had been six hours before. 

It started eight months ago. She never really got over the cough she got when he was smoking, but something about them changed. They would wrack her entire body. Still, it was nothing more than a cough. They ignored it. Who would go to the doctor for a cough? They needed to save every penny they could for their coming wedding, after all. 

She started to call off of work at the school she subbed at, and spent her days sleeping. The coughing fits would wake her up in the middle of the night after all. The following fatigue was natural. Then she began to complain about pains in her chest. Small spurts, at first. Quick, stabbing pain that would quickly fade away; like someone reaching into her chest and squeezing her lungs. It was only when they began to increase in frequency that Matt was able to convince her to go to the doctor. After a cursory glance, the doctor shooed her out with a diagnosis of asthma, and a prescription for Albuterol. 

During every coughing fit, and every bout of pain, she’d sit down and take a couple quick puffs from her blue inhaler, and chalky white ibuprofen. She went through an inhaler every couple of months, but everything seemed to be steady. She returned to work with the acknowledgment from her bosses that she would need to take a rest every now and then, and life went on as normal for five more months. 

That delusion came to an end, however, when her hand became stained with blood after a heavy coughing fit. They went to the ER this time, and she was placed in care. A sleepless day passed before they were finished running all of their tests. Jane was sleeping; a rather rough attack had wracked her, and the nurses had subdued her with a drip of morphine. 

The doctor who came to deliver the news was sullen-faced. He motioned for Matt to follow him out of the room. 

“I’m sorry... Lung cancer...3 months...” was all that Matt was able to hear. 

He grabbed the doctor by the shoulders and looked him in the eye. 

“Do everything you can to save her. Please.” 

Eight weeks of aggressive chemo followed. She grew weaker with each treatment. The figure she had cultivated through a lifetime of ballet faded until she was left with a spindly thing with paper-thin skin, and bulging blue veins. She’d awaken every morning with fresh clumps of her chestnut hair sitting on it, and still, her cough and the incessant pain remained. 

Three weeks ago she was hospitalized. There was nothing else that could be done. She was fading and fading fast. The nurses kept her on a morphine drip to ease her into her passing. 

“I don’t want to die here, Matt.” She said during one of her brief moments of clarity, “I want to see the ocean again...” 

It was early in the afternoon when she whispered those words. He got up from the chair that had, in recent times, become his permeant resting spot, pulled all the chords and wires and tubes out of her, and carried her from the hospital. The nurses pleaded with him. The orderlies tried to stop him, but he pushed past them all until he made it into the parking lot. He sat her in the front seat of his bug and sped out of the parking lot; heading north. 

The ten-hour drive up was enough to chase the last mind-fogging effects of the morphine out of her system. They stopped at that diner, shared another, smaller plate of biscuits and gravy, and continued on their way; putt-putting their way along through the northeastern states. They chatted as if nothing was wrong; neither one of them bringing up the inevitable end. They only wanted to enjoy each other’s company for one last drive, until they parked at the bottom of the hill, and pulled open the cut piece of chain link that they had made the year prior.

Dawn now began pouring over the horizon. The night was fast retreating. 

“I’m tired.” Jane muttered, “Wake me up when we’re ready to go, okay?” 

Her blue eyes fluttered shut. Her hand fell from his chest and into his lap, and her weight pushed against his shoulder. 

“Jane?” He turned his head and grasped her by her stiff shoulders. 

Her shook her. 

“Jane? Wake up, we’re heading down.” He swallowed his saliva and steadied his shuddering breath. Heat fled from her still body, and the grey-knitted cap fell from her bald head. 

“Jane, please.” He said. 

His eyes burned.

 

“Please.” 

She made no response. 

A cry belted from his mouth, and his body wracked itself in sorrowful gasps. 

When all was done, she was there, as still as before. He swallowed his sorrow still assailing him, and pulled her body to him. 

“I love you, Jane.” He whispered into the waiting skies, “More than life itself.” 

He wrapped his arms tightly around her body and rolled off the side of the cliff. As the two of them fell he held onto her, so they wouldn’t be separated. In the final moments, before they hit the hard surface of the water, he was sure he felt her arms lift and accept his final embrace.