Rendezvous
He has a big date tonight, a reunion actually. One that is way overdue. He’s known he needed to reconcile, but he’s just been cowardly, if he’s going to be honest with himself. But he simply has to see her one more time no matter what; he’s always known that and now the solution is suddenly so clear.
There have been plenty of opportunities but he’s been scattered. His mind has been so foggy. So many good memories buried under the smudge of a cascade of mistakes. Countless nights spent looking for the bottom of a bottle. He’s not even sure how long it’s been. It’s all too blurry in the mental replay.
But it’s going to be ok now. Since he nailed down tonights plan and committed to it, it’s like headlights came on, and illuminated a whole world of possibilities. So many things came rushing back, along with feeling like a young man again: brave and determined.
His excitement is palpable! With such a special occasion, he’s going to make sure he doesn’t miss a single detail. He has a blazer he’s only worn once before, and she will recognize it. He even puts on a spritz of Cool Water cologne. Hasn’t worn it in 20 years but still has the bottle. That smell brings back memories the way a song does that you haven’t heard in years. Greatest hits from the last summer that he felt alive. Like a rarely traveled bridge connecting him to his youth.
One thing he remembers clearly is how he wound up with the rose bush. It’s amazing that’s it’s still alive and constantly blooms. So he snips the longest stem of deep red satin he could find and removed all the thorns, which obviously will hurt less, and is a lovely metaphor.
Logistically, the timing is perfect. That train is bringing her to him at 4 past midnight, give or take. He has a little fun thinking about the symmetry with high noon, perhaps this would be “the showdown at high moon”. But there’s no moon out tonight unfortunately. That would be romantic, but maybe too presumptuous.
There will be no backing out this time. He’s taken measures to ensure there isn’t a next time. He’ll either present the rose and ask her to dance, or not. And if he doesn’t, his odds drop to 50/50, give or take. A little shot of anxiety hits his system remembering how Queen Anne was calm on her way to the gallows. But this is different; he’s got this.
Time to go, he cant be late; talk about a disaster. This is kind of a one shot opportunity. He knows a short cut: a secluded trail in the woods leads straight there. It actually comes out relatively close to the depot. The echos of the resiliently flowing water bouncing off the canyon walls from so far below has always sounded romantic. But tonight, odds are he wont even look down into that pitch black abyss.
He’s noticing things along the way he ordinarily would overlook. He trained his eyes on the creek, but it was deep black. The sensitivity level of all his other senses is cranked to the max, considering his eyes are practically useless on the trail. The crickets were deafening and he’s pretty sure he heard a wildcat warning. One understands the call of night owls on nights like this. The light breeze brings the smell of tomorrow’s rain storm. And creosote, on the railroad ties. He’s getting close and it’s time to get serious: no stalling.
The end of the trail gives birth to the sight of that enormous old bridge: long and tall. And the tracks that rest on it. And the dark train depot. All dimly lit by a single elderly Edison bulb in the center of the cage.
His legs propel him forward, independent of his mind. And he hears an infant rumble begin to grow. It’s exactly midnight. Right on time. Gotta move.
His veins pump diesel fuel as he hurried along the tracks. He is indulging in memories, whatever pops into his mind. A randomized memory per railroad tie.
- The UPS truck bringing Christmas presents from dad.
- His brother saving him from drowning
- Being a best man, watching her walk down the isle
- Sleeping in the cemetery in the rain.
- Post office box love letters
The darkness in between the memories disguise a guilt-free river that keeps charting a loyal path.
Moving closer to the middle of the bridge, his pace begins to slow listening to the deep water somewhere down there. He recons he’s close to dead center.
No moon, no stars: pitch black. Seems like a shame for them to miss the rendezvous. Really doesnt matter, soon he needs to train his focus on the lovely lady dancing towards his embrace. Probably better without an audience; this is an intimate moment.
Here she comes. He’s nervous now; has enough time passed? Will she be glad to see him? Her warm bright light comes around the corner and with a look of forgiveness, locks her gaze on him.
There’s a violent rumble of her heartbeat moving through his legs, but his knees hold firm. She’s excited to see him again, just like he’d hoped.
She set all his senses on fire with her lovers stare, and ear piercing whisper. Everything else was black and unknown. He feels his pulse in his fingertips.
Each passing moment was a gently blowing grain field. Every thought was of lovers wishing on a shooting star. At last, it was just the two of them.
This is the moment he designed. This is what he came for: Jump into nothingness again…or dance with his love once more.
But she finally forgives him. So he reached out to take her hand, welcoming her warm steel dress and whispered “may I have this dance?”
Then a long stem rose dove bravely into nothingness to land softly on a devoted current’s welcoming embrace.
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