Page 135 of Xavier

Banana split in hand, I find myself starting to wander down the street, the rental car left behind. I don't think too much about where I want to go, just letting my feet take me where they wish. I walk down Main Street, taking in the new businesses that have spread out beyond the old skate park I used to take Brian to. There’s growth here, but it’s slow. Maybe that’s okay. Not everywhere has to be Manhattan.

It’s not long before I find myself away from the busiest part of town. The houses and buildings are more sparse, interspersed between empty land and trees.

In the distance I can hear the water crashing over the dam and I close my eyes and listen. There must've been some rainfall in the last few days. Even after all these years, I can tell what month it is just by the sound of the waterfall.

A car whizzes by and I open my eyes and continue on my walk. There’s no doubt where my feet are taking me now. I don’t fight it.

The trees grow thicker on either side of the road. There are bushes and branches I remember so well, I automatically duck to avoid the thorns as I pass them. The path is paved now though, no longer just dirt and pebbles and errant weeds under my feet.

It’s not too far now, my destination.

My body turns into the gap in the trees even before I really realize where I am. It’s more overgrown than I remember; I have to push aside some branches and my feet stamp down on the ankle-high weeds before I emerge in front of the lake.

But once I do, it’s like I never left.

I gasp, just like that first time. Just like her first time seeing the lake from this very spot.

No matter what time of day it is, the reflection of the sky off the water’s surface is breathtaking.

I sink to my feet and sit down in the long grass, looking out over the water. A bird chirps behind me, and I can almost hear the sound of Malynda’s twinkling laughter as she used to sneak peeks into the nests to watch the baby birds grow.

The first night I slept here, it was right under the stars. My mother had come home after a double shift, the twins were screaming, and Brian had slammed the door and locked himself in his room. As soon as I could I disappeared out the back door and ran and ran and ran until I ended up here. The chaos in my head was still so loud I could barely hear the water over the buzzing. I’d dived under the water, and it was only under there that I found silence.

I’d loved my little sanctuary out here.

I’d thought it was because I liked being alone, and that maybe that’s just the sort of person I am. A loner. A hermit. A romantic isolationist.

But then I brought her here.

Without knowing anything about her, without having ever really spoken to her, I brought her here. And I loved it even more after that. After all that time, I spent here before her, it's her ghost that now haunts this place.

I should’ve perished in New York. After I moved there, to find her. I shouldn’t have lasted a week, a month, let alone all this time. And I wouldn’t have if I was really the loner I thought I was back then. It turns out, however, I just hadn’t met the right people. I think back to those who have been there for me all these years. And I wonder what I ever did to deserve friendships like those.

Eighteen-year-old Xavier was a fool. The self-imposed isolation only ever hurt me.

I sigh and I push myself up onto my feet.

One more place to go.

***

I can see the wall is covered in faded movie and concert posters even before I come up close. I’m not sure what I was hoping for, but it would’ve been unrealistic to hope that her mural would still be visible. But other than that, nothing about this place has changed. The basketball court lines are almost invisible after decades of sun and rain. The hoop has lost its original red tint but still stands tall and strong.

I walk up to the wall, eyes scanning the concert posters peeling at the corners, the dates barely readable. My eyes close and there she is. Dancing in front of me, arms and body and legs moving to the music inside her head as she arranges the paint swatches on her work of art.

I need to see it; I need to know what she was working on all those hours. I need to know what I’d inspired in her.

I start ripping at the posters, peeling them away from the wall, layer by layer, careful not to disturb what lies beneath. The adrenaline starts to course through my body as I feel myself getting closer and closer. I start to tear at the sheets of colored paper, tossing them on the ground, not caring when the wind kicks up and carries them away.

Yes!

There it is! I spot the first corner of a paint swatch, and I feel myself hurtled into the past. I’m careful again, pulling the last layer away, slowly exposing her work inch by inch by inch until there’s nothing left covering it.

I take a deep breath and I stand back.

And see it for the very first time.

It’s hard to take it all in at once, it’s so big, but it’s beautiful. Breathtaking.