That time she didn’t want to be saved

She woke up whimpering on the blow-up mattress inside the dark tent. Her tears had trickled their way down her chin. She wiped her face with the back of her hand as he comforted her with gentle whispers. He listened to her recount the horrid nightmare of women and children being marched off a cliff by cruel men, a colonial massacre with smouldering fires and black smoke. The sounds of the waves and wind from the beach soothed her back to another time on a ridge in another town, with nothing but blue cheese and a starry night.

During the days that passed, they would stare at the sea in silence. Her twenty-something-year-old palimpsest heart, filled with a white-hot rage, abated as they drove along the coast. Then it was time for them to leave. He came all that way to save her, but she didn’t want to be saved by anyone. She wanted to be alone. And she was for a while. Then everyone disappeared and became obscure memories in the vestibule of her mind.

But when he came along and smiled her way, she stirred. He softens her edges until they are smooth and porous. She moves him to reach out and hold hands with the darkness. They are free, gambolling amid the storms and sunshine. Apart, their separate harmonies are weary. 

Together, their music is clear and true.