Page 55 of Mud

Then they saw me.

Only a few at first, men with cigarettes between their lips, closer to the edge of the row of houses to my right. They took a couple of steps closer to me, four of them, then one turned and went toward the crowd sitting at those tables.

Excuse me,I said in my mind, except my voice didn’t quite work and those three men refused to come closer. They only watched me, and then more of their friends approached when they noticed me.

Everything was moving too fast and too slow, tilting out of focus.

My eyes closed—was I still standing or had I fallen? I wasn’t sure, but I was burning. I was sweating.

And my audience kept their distance. They didn’t come closer to ask me what I wanted or who I was looking for. They just watched.

It was up to me to go to them.

I knew I wouldn’t make it, that as soon as I attempted to move forward again, I was going to fall. I knew that, but I was still going to try because what else was there to do?

Closing my eyes again, I took in a deep breath and Iprepared myself to hop—to hell with it all. I was just going to hop, and if I fell, so be it.

My resolve was strong, so when I opened my eyes again, I was ready.

Then someone ahead of me moved in a way I knew well, coming through the crowd, closer to the men who were watching me. They stepped to the sides to let him through until he was under those small lights that hung on the branches of the trees to my sides.

The shock was the only thing keeping me frozen and standing right now.

…I’ll find you eventually,he’d said.

And now there he was.

At this point it was useless to try to determine whether this was a dream or not. Either way, it made no difference. I was here and I was looking right at him and he had changed so much and had remained exactly the same.

I couldn’t stop crying—in silence, of course.

His hair had grown so much the ends touched his shoulders. His face had gained more sharp edges, and the bags under his eyes were darker, and he’d lost a bit of weight so that I bet I could trace the shape of his cheek bones with my fingertips if I tried.

Please let this be a dreamcrashed withplease let this be realityinside me, shaking me to my core.

And the way he looked at me wasn’t helping—like I was a ghost, like I was the monster that had been hiding under his bed all his life, like I was an impossibility wearing the clothes of the possible that didn’t quite fit me right, but I pretended that they did.

He opened his mouth to speak, and the music in the background faded to allow me to hear him better.

“What…” His voice was slow, a whisper, barely caressing my ears. He said the word, then shook his head like he couldn’t quite believe his eyes any more than I trusted mine. “What are you doing—what…”

Again, that shake of his head. He didn’t sayherethough. So, I answered.

“I-I-I came to the blue house behind the hill.” Because I was alone. Utterly, completely alone.

He acted like the sound of my voice assaulted his senses—flinched and leaned his head slightly back. Disgusted.

My eyes closed and more tears fell all at once, all that had pooled in my eyes in the last few seconds.

“I had nowhere else to go.” And wasn’t that the saddest truth to have ever left my lips?

Words I hadn’t wanted to admit to myself. Words I hadn’t even wanted to think about at all until now—who wanted to have a truth so raw, so painful? Who wanted tobe me?

Not me.

But the words were out now. They were free of me, out there in the world, and I had nothing else to hold me up anymore.

My body let go.

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