Page 142 of Grim
The power I lack is not physical. Though I am bone-weary and my erratic heart a jackhammer in my chest, I know I can make it up. What Ilack now is the courage.
Most people don’t know thewhenof their physical end, and most who have the best idea are too physically incapable to do anything about it. Resigned to petering out in an antiseptic hospital bed, plugged up with tubes and strapped to machines that monitor all that which keeps us alive, none of which makes us human.
The ancestral clock strikes again. This time, a single gong rips through the house, the death knell.
The soft vibrations of generations pulse off my skin and whisper in my ears on the sound. Spurred on now by my family, strengthened by my own determination to makesomethingout of nothing, I take one more step up. My hand clings to the banister as memories of the passion shared with Kane and the pathos shared with Seek distract me from the fear and motivate my moment.
Oh, Kane, where are you now?
Her unspoken thought somehow pours from the screen, as though she said it directly to me.
“I am right here, Rue,” I whisper aloud in D’s office.
“Immersive stuff. This viewing technology keeps getting better. It’s like we’re almost there.”
I ignore Big D’s continued sardonic jabs and press my energy through the ether, willing my words to reach Rue.
“I am with you, brave girl. I am always with you. Even when I cannot be there. I am fused to you. Love knows not time and space. I am yours. In every way. In every place. In all planes of space and time, Rue, I belong to you.
“Eros: I love you passionately.
“Agape: I love you unconditionally.
“Pragma: I love you enduringly.
“Mania: I love you madly.Je t’aime toujours. De tout le chemin.I love you always. In all the ways, Rue Chamberlain.”
“That was beautiful, Kane. Unfortunately, the viewing screen doesn’t work in both directions,” D says quietly. At least he has the decency to sound somewhat contrite.
We both get sucked back into the action on display in front of us as Rue makes her way to the roof.
“This is it,” D says with far more solemnity than fanfare. “Bang and whimper time.”
I conquer the final stair and peer back down to marvel at how far I’ve come. Something poetic about it all. A rugged ascent before my final descent.
I force open the attic door. The musky air escapes through the opening like a prisoner from an unlocked cage. Memories are trapped in every cobwebbed corner. I stumble across the floorboards and throw myself toward the dresser beneath the gabled window.
My heart flutters like a trapped bird in my chest, too panicked to take flight, too broken to stay still.
The latch sticks but eventually succumbs.
A cold rush of night air fills my lungs, a sharp contrast to the dingy confines behind me. A gentle rain falls, and a cool wind dances across my skin. The combination sends prickles along my flesh. It is not an unwelcome feeling, like nature knows. But then nature always does know, doesn’t she?
I make my way cautiously up the slope to the place from which I can see as far out into the world as possible. The same place where Kane and I saw as far into each other as we ever did.
The potent memory distracts me, and I slip on a wet shingle. My heart rate spikes, and I claw at that air to regain my balance. Fear jolts through my body, and then I stabilize and steady myself. I almost fell off the roof and died. Just like I did that night up here with Kane.
His words right before we kissed echo in my chest.“Believe me, it’s very dangerous to fall.”
The utter absurdity of it all overtakes me, and I do something I thought impossible in this moment. I laugh. A giddy, dizzying mess of a laugh.
Eventually, the giggling subsides, and I come tostillness atop my perch. My dress gets tighter against my skin as more of the misting rain accumulates. It makes it heavier. That feels right too. My hair knots around my face. Lightning bursts across the clouds, illuminating the landscape in the distance. Rolling hills and copses of trees dot the horizon, adorned with homes that look like out-of-place decorative cake toppers.
The wind slows, then completely dies. Portentous, invisible force. The rain softens, now mixing on my cheeks with my tears. Impossible to tell where nature’s weeping ends and mine begins.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. No sound.What is left to say? And who’s even here to listen?
“I am, Rue. I’m listening. Speak what is in your heart. Share your soul while it’s still yours,” I plead low in my throat.
