Slowly Returning to Softness

 

The drive felt like it had taken much longer than expected, though of course it hadn’t. There was no traffic, no road accidents to hold them up, and no emergency bathroom breaks needed at a lonely petrol station. It had just been the two of them, in silence. Neither of them had dared touch the radio, unsure of how the other might feel about it, and so instead they sat with their own thoughts. It was a quiet that had existed between them for weeks now, a sort of uncertainty that if they spoke they might break the dam. Rachel was driving, which usually made Jonah more nervous than it should considering she wasn’t a particularly risk-seeking person, although this time he barely even noticed the car was moving.

    They had the place booked for a week. One week. Seven days. Jonah could already feel the minutes moving in half-time, the world around him feeling like it was lagging on an empty battery. Rachel had gone for a walk almost immediately upon arrival, hoping she could sweat off the regret that was lingering just under the surface of her skin. She hated the smell of the house and she couldn’t bear to look at Jonah these days. There hadn’t been an invitation for Jonah to join, though in fact she’d always known how much he loved to walk and explore. He wasn’t taking it personally. If it had been personal, she’d have to be thinking about him in the first place, and he knew that wasn’t happening anymore.

    At the end of the garden there was a lake, and from the jetty you could see the other lodges that backed onto it. A ring of wooden houses encompassing this murky, brown creek, each with its own small strip of pathetic beach where there was no tide to break against the shore, no wind in which to surf. Jonah had always hated water that didn’t look drinkable; he knew someone from school who’d gotten giardia when they accidentally swallowed river water during a quick dip on a hot day. His resolve to avoid the lake pushed him further into the house, deciding on an inspection of the available rooms.

    There was a living room, a kitchen, a bathroom, and two bedrooms. Separate bedrooms had been important. It hadn’t been their idea to come here at all, but when they were all but blackmailed by their friends and family, they knew they’d only survive the week if they had their own spaces. Physical touch was long forgotten and they were just two shadows moving around a brightly lit room, lightly crossing one another to get somewhere else. Jonah thought that whoever was responsible for decorating the lodge must have been someone sad; no pictures, no plants, no gently fluffed cushions or throw blankets in sight. As if he didn’t feel sad enough already, now he would get to spend a week surrounded by someone else’s residual sadness. A stranger’s depression, hovering over him like a stifling heat that makes it hard to sleep and fills up your throat with warm air.    

    He hadn’t been aware of how long he’d been stood regarding the room until he noticed the sun had set out beyond the lake. When he walked out onto the patio, he spotted Rachel, back from her walk and sleeping on the bench. Jonah could remember the way he loved Rachel. He thought of the way he used to roll over at night and see her lying next to him, arm propped up by the pillow so that her fingers delicately rested on the tip of her nose. He used to watch the way her body melted into itself every time she took a breath; her skin wasn’t like that of girls he had seen before. It wasn’t rigid and sharp, it was soft and looked like it had been moulded from clay. The waves of her body moved as they collided with one another. The skin protecting her ribcage had made a crevice for her arm as it rested on its side, and the two parts of her body, though separate, had pooled together to become one while she slept. Here, now, it was like she was slowly returning to softness, and he daren’t move too close in case he burst the bubble. Night had descended, and he decided the warmth around them would be enough to protect her as she slept, and so he retreated to bed.

    The next few days showed patterns emerging, the two of them sweeping around the place like a tide in the middle of the ocean. They’d been following the motions of life for weeks, pretending as though everything they did was a conscious choice when really it was to satiate a need to be doing something, anything. They really were doing very well at avoiding each other. It wasn’t difficult, in the midst of a forest. Nature could find ways to separate you from those closest within a matter of seconds, whether you wanted it or not. Hours would be spent reading, or sitting on the jetty, or walking through the trees. Words remained unspoken, thoughts kept locked in their cages. But neither of them could deny to themselves that something was beginning to feel different. Rachel’s fingertips had been tingling since she arrived, and Jonah’s lungs felt bigger, inflated.

    Of course, not everything had changed. There were still meals being made that weren’t being eaten, and the night still fell every evening, making Rachel feel like she was going to choke. She hated darkness more than anything these days, since that day, that one day. A memory blistering in her mind, filling her brain with fluid that seeped into every part of herself. She was made up of this memory, it was everything she was. There had been crying, the loud cry of an infant that could’ve powered all the lights in the house, and then there had been the silence. Stillness that dropped to the floor with a great thud and planted itself so strongly she hadn’t been able to get rid of it since. Jonah’s response was an implosion, he’d gone in on himself and couldn’t find a way back out again, and Rachel hadn’t really wanted to try and help him. They were beyond words now, sharing a memory that spoke in volumes and they’d never need to speak to one another again.

    At the end of the week it started to rain. The rain descended slowly and quietly in the beginning, but within hours it was torrential. They were trapped together in the lodge, a nightmare come true. You could almost hear the wooden walls creaking under the stress. Half of the day passed before Rachel felt like she was about to burst. The tingling sensation had grown into pins and needles that spread up to her elbows, and it felt like her blood had electrified so she could feel everything to the nth degree. Jonah was always too close, too far away, too quiet, too invasive, too detached. How could he be all of these things at once and remain so calm? Why was she being burdened with all of her own emotions, why couldn’t they share them? Why did she suddenly want to share them? Why is he just sat there?

    Without even realising it, she’d slammed the door and was outside. Her chest could expand again, and her hair was already sticking to the back of her neck. She didn’t even have to think, and she was on the move, racing towards the edge of the garden where the water met the earth, thinking if she kept going she might descend deeper and deeper to the lake bed, and she could stay there, undisturbed, free to float. Once she was in the lake, the tingling stopped. She’d been put into neutral, and could feel her nervous system resetting itself. With the water up to her thighs, she kept wading, and wading, feeling all of the silt underneath her feet. Rain was still pouring on her from above and it was creating ripples around her. Only then did she look down and noticed she was fully clothed. It didn’t matter.

    Jonah had followed her out of the door. The first time he felt like he needed to check on her in almost a week, the slamming of the door had unsettled him and he had to see where she was going. He was confused at first, but as soon as she had hit the water it was like his heart let go of whatever it had been holding onto since that day. He watched as she slowly submerged, and didn’t realise he’d stopped breathing until she came back up. Despite the rain, he started walking. Walking toward her, sensing that the slack line between them was starting to pull taut, until he was almost at the water’s edge. Where she’d come out to meet him. There was rain coming from above, indistinguishable from the rain in her eyes that rose up, fell down, and slipped quietly off her jawline. He made a move to wipe them away, and the slack line gave way completely. They were wrapped up in one another. The kiss was fierce, intense, tasting of grief and sorrow and love and life all at once. The pressure bubble between them had popped with such intensity it threw them together at the speed of light, and before either of them knew it Jonah had picked Rachel up and was taking her back to the house. Back to that lifeless lodge, where they’d paint the walls fire red and leave clothes strewn about like a breadcrumb trail for some forest wanderer to find. Heat that boiled in their bodies and in their mouths, constantly reaching to pull the other one even closer, reaching for another part of themselves that existed beyond the physical element. They’d found one another again, and would keep finding each other, tenderly and then brutally and then tenderly again. The softness was back, and it had found a playmate in madness, so they could lie together, again, in the same bed.

    The drive home the next day was quiet, still, and clouded under last night’s explosion. The roads weren’t busy, so they breezed through the motorway, feeling like they might be home any minute to pick up the pieces they’d left behind. Rachel stared out of the window, happy not to be driving today so she could sit with her memories. Jonah thought about when they’d first met, how much he’d loved her. It wasn’t an intense love, it was a protective love. An innate feeling of needing to care for her, as though she were a small animal. It was obsessive, he would spend hours thinking about her. But, up until yesterday, it had never been full of fire, passion, all the things he’d been used to looking for. He’d been used to burning at higher temperatures, letting the flames fan out until they subsided and became a pile of ashes. With Rachel, it was room temperature. A comfortable heat that felt like he’d just eaten a three-course meal before bedtime. A love that would make him feel sleepy. He was happy to have both extremes now, happy to be back in comfortable silence but still feeling the flush in his cheeks. Rachel’s eyes were on him now, so he stole a quick glance at her, smiled, and reached out to turn on the radio.