Meeting in the Margins

Flora

It's always bright here.

Even when there are clouds below, there is effervescent, ephemeral light beaming.

We need nothing, and have everything. Serenity invades always, but some (like me) feel like we miss something. That's when we turn our gazes downwards, towards earth.

We don't feel terribly connected to those below. We regard them with the simplest curiosity. We merely enjoy watching.

Two people in particular I watch often. They're both young, which isn't surprising; all the others watch people of various ages, babies, children, adults. No one knows who or why they watch, we just do. These two, out of all the others, I am drawn to.

The first weeks, they are apart, engaging in different activities. I watched the girl enter into a new town, in a new state. I see her stressing, crying at night, carefully masking her red eyes for the morning classes. My heart aches for her.

The boy is a different story. While the girl is preparing for college all alone, I see him with someone at all times. He watches over his little sister while they stay at his aunt's. He takes her to lawyers' offices, and finally, to a courtroom. He's there for her when she breaks down after their father's verdict. He settles her with the aunt. Sometimes, he brings the other girl's sister, who is only slightly older than his sister, and the two become friends.

But while they are apart, the two stay in contact. The magic of telephones and computers in this age. They become friends. Good friends. Neither of them date, even both are pursued.

When the girl fails her first exam, the boy is the only one she calls. After the final court visit, the boy tells the girl before even his own family. He lets his tears fall for her alone, revealing to her his vulnerability.

I see how they miss each other. After his calls, the girl hugs her pillow close, allowing small tears to squeeze past her eyes. When she hangs up the phone, the boy stares at it and sighs.

I see the day the boy gives in. I watch him catch bus after bus, carrying only his backpack and his phone. He sits in corner seats in the back, rebuffing the flirtatious efforts of a persistent blonde girl on one particularly long ride.

In his backpack lies a ratty book, pilfered from a library. Its stamp reads Franklin High School.

When he arrives at the campus, he goes to the girl's dorm. She's told him all about it, describing in detail the concrete jungle, scenes unfamiliar to them both. It's snowing outside, but he wears only a Williams sweatshirt (a gift) with dark jeans.

He knocks lightly.

Inside her room, the girl startles at the noise. It's not her obnxious roommate, who rarely spends even nights there; that girl has a key. No one else ever visits her room. She gets up from her desk chair and hastens to the door. She opens the door warily, never expecting the sight before her.

Her face freezes; her eyes take in her visitor. He smiles weakly, his hands shoved in his front pockets.

Then she moves. She falls forward, embracing him around the waist. Shocked, he doesn't react at first. Then his arms come around the girl hesitantly, as if expecting her to push him away.

She pulls away gently, but not rejecting him. She reaches up and touches his face. His eyes never leaving hers, he clasps her face gently in both of his hands. They both smile hesitantly before they kiss.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Where we reside, everything is bright. Nothing is dark, nothing dank, nothing damp. We live a perfect life.

We have different purposes. We are different people. We are characters in an endless story.