I place my drill on the deck, pat my hands on my thighs, and rise to fully standing.
Ally’s eyes follow my every move, but after a moment, she jolts, like something surprised her. Her eyes whip back down to the papers in her hands, and clearing her throat, she begins again. “Um, I intended to start this essay differently, but by the time I got to the end, I realized I’d completely missed the point. So I went back to the beginning and started again.”
She glances up from her paper, perhaps to check that I’m still paying attention, then looking back down, she continues reading.
“Summer is usually a time for adventure, for exploration,” she explains. “And so, this year, I dedicated mine to finding out who I am outside of college life, away from my mother’s eye, away from the only home I’ve ever known. I’ve led a sheltered existence, not because of overbearing parents, but rather, the opposite. My mother was so free and wild that I felt the need to overcompensate and choose safety every time. I never reached out,” her voice cracks, “I never took risks, so this year, my twenty-second, I chose to visit a place that felt like home, despite the fact I’d never before stepped foot over the train tracks. I got to know a woman I’d heard about but never met, and by doing so, I got to see where I came from. Where my mom came from.”
She stops, glances up, and swallows. “Turns out, Sonia Rivera is the perfect blend of me and my mother. She’s independent and strong, but without the rigidity. Wild and free, but without the spontaneity. She’s perfect,” and then she forces a smile, “the perfect foundation for the women who would later exist because of her.”
Swallowing, she looks back down to her paper. “I wrote nearly ten thousand words about another man, I studied him, tried to truly understand him, but then I had to stop. I reassessed what I was doing, went back to the start, and began writing about you instead.”
She glances up, so I catch a twinkle of emotion in her eyes. “When my essay began, it was founded on the things I felt for you. I was obsessed with understanding what makes you tick. I explored your possessiveness, and your spontaneity. I analyzed our every interaction, and though we kissed during many of them, and flirted during all of them, whenever I felt exposed and vulnerable, I was able to slip behind my mask of professional analysis. It was a shield I used often and freely. Then along came Jason Donnerson, and he spoke of his Maria.
“In my mind, my analysis became a blend of you both. You were both possessive and passionate. You were both all-in, unafraid of falling in love and risking it all. Except, I knew how Jason’s story would end. Well…” She chuckles and clears her throat. “I thought I knew how it would end. I figured his Maria was gone, and that was all I needed to know. I had grown up knowing my mother’s heartache. She’d lost the man she loved, my father, and again when she lost Stan, and though she often kept her grief on lock, my love for her meant I could see it. It was my first lesson in not giving someone my all, because when they’re gone, I would never be whole again.”
She pauses for a moment, before continuing on. “My mother has always been braver than me, wilder, freer. So even knowing the pain of losing her first love, she went and did it again. She loved Stanley with abandon, because she’s literally incapable of holding back. And that’s another essay in itself that could keep me busy for months. But then…” Her eyes come to mine. “Even after giving her all, again, she lost him. Two for two; it seemed she was doomed to always be alone.”
“You were afraid.” My voice cracks, and my heart skips when the sound reaches my ears.
Ally nods but refuses me a glimpse into her soul. She sends her gaze back to the paper to keep me out. “I came to this town to learn about myself, my past, my present and future, and while I was here, I allowed myself my first and only slice of wild abandon. I allowed myself an affair with a guy who seems to be quite literally the human embodiment of wild and silly.”
“Well… uh…” I clear my throat, smile, and take a step in her direction. “Thanks, I think.”
“So my analysis began with your recklessness. What makes a guy act the way you do? How can you feel so safe and content that you’re able to make those choices? And then with Jason, why was he able to love his Maria the way he did? They were so young, it seemed silly. Perhaps a fantasy that years apart had fueled. But he believed, he remained devoted and so purely in love that I moved past how crazy it was, and into how? How does one give so much of themselves? And why, after all these years, did he continue to give, when it was certain he would never get her back?”
“I know how.” I take another step forward. Twelve or so feet remain between us, but slowly, I take one step, then another. “I know how he loved so hard.”
“But how?” She drops her hands and argues on a cry of anguish, “How could he stand that kind of pain, year upon year, decade after decade? Wouldn’t a man give up for the sake of his sanity?”
“Is that what you’re wondering about me?” I take another step. “You’re worried I’ll eventually give up on us?”
“I’m asking why you’re not afraid to lose a part of yourself. How can you possibly be so brave?”
“Are you looking for an actual answer?” I take another step forward. “Or is this still part of your speech?”
“Um…” She sniffles and wipes away a stray tear. “Both, I guess. I need answers, but I know you, which means I know you’ll have something on standby. A justification that brushes away how serious and soul-breaking this whole thing is.”
“This whole thing… being love?”
“Yes, love!” Most people say ‘love’ and smile, or sigh, or swoon. Ally says it, and her lips do that thing, the pout and grumpiness. “How can you stand there right now and smile, when I’m over here, feeling like I have a hole in my stomach?”
“Well…” I hedge. “Because you’re right here in front of me, that’s how. For the first time in a month, you’re in front of me. But you didn’t see me when I was all alone these past weeks. You didn’t see the way I constantly rubbed my stomach because it hurt.”
“So why are you walking toward me?” she snaps when I take another step. “Why aren’t you running the other direction, terrified to give more of yourself to someone who might never take care of it? I already took some, and I never intended to treat it right. It was a summer affair, a fun time and a work project. But then I was leaving. I never intended to do the right thing by you.”
Her words slash at my heart, but at the same time, I’m able to come closer. To stop in front of her and take her hands so her grip on the paper breaks. I force her hands down by her sides, and continue moving in until our toes touch and her chest, expanding because of the way she clamors for breath, touches mine.
“I can be here, because you already have me.” I place a hand under her jaw, and pull her face up to find tears shimmering on her cheek. I wipe them away with the pad of my thumb, but that show of kindness only makes her cry more. “The decision was taken out of my hands, Ally. You have me, so the only thing I can do now is stay in love, and hope you’ll love me back. What I can’t do is run away. There’s no point. Like a magnet, I’ll just keep coming back.”