I think there is more of this story that wants to be told, but we shall see. I was thinking about how sometimes when we care about people, we try to help them even when the help they need is clearly outside our ability to provide, particularly when it is emotional or spiritual help that they need.
Sunlight breaks through the clouds, pouring out light and warmth for the first time in weeks. The playground is empty except for two figures that stand just inside the gate. The man and woman stand surveying the swing set and jungle gym as if deciding which to visit first. As the beams of the sun reach them, the woman looks up, sending a tangle of golden curls back from her round cheeks. Full lips part to let forth the hint of a smile and she loosens the arms, which were locked across her chest.
Sensing her movement, the man turns to her. His eyes sparkle with admiration at the face hidden behind her hair. One of his hands, which until now hung limply at his side, slowly rises upward as if he would touch her cheek. As she turns to face him, his hand falls away. She does not notice the motion of his hand. Her eyes scan his face so intently that she can see nothing else.
“So what did you want to talk about?” Her voice gives away her anxiety about his answer.
“Let’s climb on the jungle gym,” he evades her question but reaches for her hand.
She lets him take it. He leads her to the jungle gym and places her hand on the gleaming metal of the ladder. Her hand shies away from the cold metal as dark eyes question him.
“Go ahead,” he nods to the ladder and flashes her a smile.
Her grip tightens on the metal bar. Her heart flutters. She looks away from him, turning her attention to the short climb that will take her up to the monkey bars. He watches her in silence, his eyes scanning the length of her body now that her head is turned away. She can feel his eyes and her face flushes as she puts one hand on the first monkey bar. Her eyes remain on the ground as she raises her other hand to take the next bar and pull herself forward.
A flash of light draws her eyes away from the ground. She looks up to see he is smiling at her with a camera held out far enough to view the screen on the back. She smiles back without thinking and the flash goes off again. He extends his hand with the thumb pointed up.
“Looking good, girl,” his voice is laced with more lust than admiration.
She blushes and turns her head again, focusing more intently on the other end of the monkey bars. When she reaches the last bar, he is already there, holding out his hands to help her down.
“Are we going to talk now?” Her words dissolve into a squeal of surprise as he grabs her by the waist.
He lifts her with ease swinging her away from the jungle gym as if she weighs nothing. As her feet touch the ground again, she lets out the breath she was holding in a long sigh. She turns to walk toward the swings, hiding her face from him with a curtain of hair. He hesitates a moment before following her lead.
“So we should talk,” his voice is so low she has to turn back toward him to catch the words.
“Yes. You’ve said that,” she sits on the swing pushing off until metal squeals on metal.
“Have you ever been in love?” He asks the question shyly, watching her intently.
“Yes, I have.”
Her response seems to hit him like a slap. He takes a step backward.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“How did you know you were in love?” He recovers his composure.
“I just did. I felt it.” She shrugs her shoulders, watching him intently as questions wheel through her mind.
“And what changed that?”
“We wanted different things.” She forces the words out through the tightness in her chest.
“I’m not like you. I don’t know that I have ever been in love.” He lowers himself into a half crouch so he
can look into her eyes as she answers him.
“Well, I can’t tell you if you have been in love.” Her words are pinched by the irritation that overtakes her as a flush creeps into her cheeks again.
“Don’t get mad. I just wanted you to know where we stand.” He steps closer to her, looking down at her with more to say written in his eyes.
She waits. She knows that look, but she can’t place it. So many thoughts rush into her head, but none that she would dare share with him. None of her thoughts are what he wants or needs to hear.
“So you told me once that you had made mistakes…” His words trail off to leave his unasked question hanging ominously in the air between them.
Her eyes narrow and her hands tighten on the chains as she stops swinging. “We have all made mistakes in the past…”
“I mean, mistakes that got you into trouble.”
“Yes, when I was younger.”
“So how did you get through it?”
“I changed who I was and what I wanted and worked to become a better person with some help from people who love me.” Her voice is low but her eyes bore into his.
“That’s it?” Disappointment mars his face as he starts to sneer.
“I didn’t say it worked out overnight.”
“So what kinds of things did you do to get in trouble?” His eyes light up as he asks this question and kneels before her in the dirt close enough to touch her knee with his hand, but he doesn’t reach toward her though his hand twitches.
“It doesn’t help either of us to talk about it. It’s the past.”
“Well, if you didn’t enjoy what you were doing…”
“I said I don’t want to talk about it,” she stands up and steps away from him.
“Come on. Don’t be like that. I need you to talk to me. You said you’d help me.” He gets up off of his knees, towering over her.
“You don’t need help or you would be talking to your brother.” She brushes past him only to find his hands on her shoulders.
He turns her to face him. “But I like it. How can I stop doing things that I enjoy so much?”
“Asking me to talk about my mistakes won’t help you. You have to want to stop.”
“How can I want to? Can you tell me that?” The pitch of his voice belies the forced smile on his face.
She shakes free of his grip, frowning at him. “I reached a point where doing what I knew was wrong made me cry. Things I used to enjoy made me feel sick.”
“What kinds of things?” He probes for more details.
Her eyes widen, “You don’t want help, you want to swap stories.”
“But it would help me,” he holds out his hands imploringly.
“Knowing my dirty secrets can’t possibly help you,” she backs away from him now.
“But aren’t they fun to share?”
“How about you tell me more of your dirty little secrets…” A wry smile punctuates her words but as he opens his mouth to speak, she turns and walks away.
He stands watching with his mouth still agape, but no words come forth to call her back. He knows she
is gone. He always knew she would be but he had hoped it would not be so soon. It can’t be. He runs to catch up with her, but she has already reached her car.
“Wait,” he calls out to her, but she ignores him.
Her hands are clenched on the steering wheel as she backs away from him. He throws a punch at the passenger door, reveling in the crunch of bone on metal. She doesn’t stop. She doesn’t even look toward the sound. She leaves him to nurse his wounded hand and watch her taillights disappear in the distance.
