Groundhogs

Chapter 2: Without

Ottalina took us to the stump at the corner of my neighborhood. We descended slowly onto the early morning street in silence, with our gazes transfixed on one another's.

"Obviously I have questions," I said.
"I have to leave for awhile Free," she said looking away.
"You have to leave? Why? Where are you going? I—, Ottalina I wanna know what's going on. And I want to ask about something else too. You can't— you can't leave yet."
"Free, I'm going to be gone for awhile. But, when I get back I want you to meet me right here."

Ottalina pulled out a pack of cigarettes, removing one from the pack with her lips. She gripped the tip of the cigarette with two fingers and inhaled lightly. I watched her in carefully and lost the words I wanted to ask her. She turned to me and offered a drag.

"Free, when I come back do you want to try something new?"
"What do you mean?"
"I just can't figure it out. I can't figure out if I'm just chasing the next good feeling. And I don't know if that's okay. Are we supposed to live this way? I'm just going after what feels right and what makes me happy, over and over. It's like I have no patience for feeling like shit. But then I think, am I just running? I'm just running away from that bad feeling, again and again. Am I just afraid? Is this what life is supposed to feel like?"
"That good feeling, huh? I think I just wallow in the good, until it turns bad again."
"And how do you feel right now? Are we in the good again? Or has it turned all bad?"
"I don't know. I'm tired. I'm just tired. I think these few days with you, those were good. But you're telling me you're leaving. The whole shit with Jenn, too. It's late. I'll have to hear from my dad when I get home."
"But you feel the bad coming again, right!"
"Yeah, I guess so."
"Then let's try something new when I come back. Let's find the good, the kind that never turns bad."

Ottalina tossed the cigarette butt to the ground and walked over to me. She put her hands on my shoulders and smiled.

"Free, where I come from there's a story about this place."
"This place?"
"This world."
"Wait."
"Just listen," she said. Ottalina grabbed my waist and launched into the air. In seconds, we were descending at the bleachers where we shared small talk earlier in the night.
"Free, where I'm from there's this story. They say that there was a woman who flew through the night, beyond every star and beyond all the blank space in the sky. They said she kept flying until she felt she didn't have to fly anymore."
"Where did she want to go?"
"She wanted to find that good feeling. Love, Free. She flew endlessly until she found love."
"Did she ever feel like she didn't need to fly anymore?"
"She did."
"Where did she find love?"
"Here."
"Here?"
"In this world, she found love."
"There's someone like you here already? In this world?"
"No, I'm sure she's dead now. This story has been told for lifetimes."

Ottalina turned to me with a serious expression. This wasn't her typical nihilistic joke that ended with a profound thought of sadness, no. She wanted to me believe, too.

"Free, where I'm from they call this place Love. They say it's a sin to ever visit this world. But I flew here, like the woman from that story. I told you before, i desperately want love too. I think finding you was meant to happen."
"Ottalina, I think I'm starting to understand but me? To say I'm unlucky in love would be an understatement. I'm not made for it. Every time I think I'm starting to know what it means to love someone or to be loved, I lose all sense of direction. I'm just not cut out for it."
"I know. And I think that's why I need your help. You remind me of my people. We're not created with love in mind, Free. We're not created from love, we're not made in it's embrace or it's image. But they say sometimes there are those who are."
"I guess you're one of those odd ones, huh?"
"I'm serious, Free. I want you to come with me when I get back. I want us to find it."

Ottalina raised her head to the sky with a worried look, and turned back to me. She smiled and launched into the air. In the empty space on the bleachers next to me, her cigarette pack shook softly. I grabbed her pack and placed it against my chest.

Six months later without Ottalina arrived sooner than I had imagined. My habits returned to form and I was beginning to forget her face. At times, I watched myself carefully in the mirror wondering if I had created her. I thought of the probability of imagining someone who felt the way I felt, the way I wanted so much without risking anything at all. But I remembered that I thought of her ima greater regard than myself. I wanted to know the extent of risk Ottalina had allowed herself to take on, all for the sake of something I'm too afraid to understand. And I thought about running away with her, like she asked.

In the time Ottalina had been gone, I was beginning to forget Jenn. In some strange act of compartmentalization, I told myself that my feelings for her must've not been love. And if they were love, and it was true, I couldn't help Ottalina chasing a love that was not for me. I needed to commit myself to finding love. I needed to find a real love, for her sake.

I started a new job, and I was growing to hate it like the others. After clocking out, I'd walk to the 7-11 and buy beer. My walk remained the same as before but with a small adjustment. My time spent at home became less and less frequent. I think my father started to give up on the idea of reeling me in as I grew more and more distant. I'd drink at the stump I met Ottalina and drink on my walk to the bleachers, where we spent time together. With my memory, I couldn't remember where she said she'd return or when. Strangely enough, it became the one act I grew the most disciplined. Drinking and waiting patiently for her, it was all I could do.

Another six months had passed, and winter arrived once again. Nuzzled in my tattered hoodie and beanie, I walked to 7-11. After quitting another job, I had enough money left to buy one more six pack. I walked with beer in hand to the stump. After finishing two beers, and not seeing her arrival, I walked toward the bleachers drinking two more on the way. I sat on the bleachers sipping the remaining two beers. Eventually, I reached the bottom of the final bottle. My eyes wandered around the field and I thought of Ottalina. I wondered if she could remember my face like I couldn't remember hers. I wondered if she flew safely to where she rushed away to and if she was okay without her cigarettes. I pulled her pack from my hoodie and placed one in my mouth. My hands shivered from the cold as I rustled through my pockets for a lighter. After searching, my arms dropped in defeat. My eyes watered and a ducked my head low to my lap. A year had passed and I was beginning to miss her. I wanted to leave. I wanted to leave everything behind and find love with her. I hadn't felt good since she left, and the bad I was left in was sinking into every part of me. I remembered I told her I'd wallow in the bad, it was how I lived. So why hadn't she come yet?

I threw my head to the sky once more, with the unlit cigarette slipping from my mouth, and screamed.

"I take it you're ready to leave?" she said.

Ottalina held my head with one hand and squeezed the cigarette in my mouth with the other. My eyes split open, pouring tears. I inhaled softly and exhaled deeply. My hero floated in front of me, smiling.

"I'm a little late, aren't I?" she said.