“It’s okay,” said the woman. Even though she wasn’t sure it was.
“Are you okay?”
The woman wasn’t sure she was.
“I’m real sorry I did that,” East added, imagining what it must have been like for this small woman to have had a big lug of a man like him come at her and wrap her up in his arms. “It’s just…” The strange lightness East had been feeling grew inside him—it felt like it was possessing him, even—and it seemed to take control of his body and push the rest of the sentence he had started out of his mouth and make him gutturally blurt out, “I think I love you.”
And then he felt like everything stopped.
And he found himself unable to breathe. And unable to move.
And his face was the picture of contrite befuddlement.
The woman’s eyes widened and bugged a little as she took in her host’s unexpected confession. And then she recoiled a bit and may have even taken a step or two away from East as she skeptically uttered, “I’m sorry—what?”
And East started breathing again and conferred with himself for a moment. And decided that what he had just said was indeed true. “Yeah. I saw you from my window—no—wait: I didn’t actually see you. I just … felt … like you were out here when I was looking out my window … and…” He thought some more to make sure what he was about to say was true. And when he was sure it was true, he continued, “And I loved you. Before I even saw you.”
And then East shrugged helplessly.
And everything was silent and still.
And East stood facing the woman, still looking contritely befuddled, trying to process what he had just said.
And the woman stood facing East, trying to process what she had just heard. His profession of love was a little disconcerting—because it had come from a complete stranger. But it seemed sincere and, ultimately, harmless. So the woman was gentle as she quashed her lovelorn host’s romantic overtures. “Well … that’s really nice of you to say, but, um, there’s something I think you should know: What you just told me? I’m not here for that.”
“Oh, no!” East really didn’t presume that the woman was there for him to love her. And he couldn’t quite believe he had just professed his love to a complete stranger—even though there was no doubt that he loved her. “I didn’t think you were!” he contended, defending himself.
“I’m here to pay my respects,” continued the woman. “To my husband.”
“Oh, no,” groaned East. He had just told a married woman that he loved her.
“Yeah. My husband. Wes. I’m here to say goodbye to him. ’Cause he died recently.”
“Oh, no.” East had just told a grieving widow that he loved her.
“Yeah. On Tuesday, actually.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” And that was all she wanted to say on the subject. Because she really didn’t want to get into it.
But something about East made her want to get into it.
So she did.
“And the northern lights—did you know this?—the northern lights are actually the torches that the recently departed carry with them so they can find their way home to heaven, according to the people who first lived here.” The woman knew this because she had been reading The Big Book of Who, What, Where, When, and Why with her story-time kids at the library. And one of the entries was about what the northern lights were—and where, when, why they appeared. “And, see,” she continued, “it takes a soul three days to make its way home to heaven, and Wes died on Tuesday night—three days ago—and I flew in to Presque Isle on Wednesday—in the morning—and then I hiked Wednesday and Thursday and today, until I found a spot that was dark enough … and that felt right. And when I got here today, well, it just felt right, and it’s so dark here, and—anyway—this is Friday! This is the third day, so, you see, I will see them—the northern lights—because they’re gonna be him. He’ll be carrying one of the torches.” The woman looked up and started scanning the sky. “And, see, I need them to be him, because I didn’t leave things well with him, so I was just hoping I could come here and say goodbye to him … but what you just said—just a second ago? That’s going to get in the way of me saying goodbye to him, I think, and so I think I’m just going to go find another place to do what I need to do.”
And the woman started making her way toward her tent so she could pack up and go, and, as she did, East protested. “No—wait! Please don’t do that. I’m sorry!” The thought of the woman leaving made East’s insides feel heavy and dark. And he realized that they had felt that way for a long time. And he didn’t want them to feel that way anymore, which made him desperate for the woman to stay, and he begged, “Please don’t go! I don’t really know what happened.”
“Well, I do. I know what happened,” retorted the woman sardonically.
The woman collapsed her tent and started packing it up into a small pouch and converted the poles that gave it its structure into trekking poles. East marveled at the amazing design but was surprised to find that he was more interested in the woman than he was in the excellent design of her ultra-packable tent. Which she probably saw in the same catalog that she had found her expensive and stylish clothing in.
“Please wait!” East begged. “Like I said—I’m not the kind of person who does things like … what I just did.”
The woman continued to break down her campsite.
“Please—don’t go,” pleaded East. “Just—do what you need to do, and … and I-I-I … I won’t bother you.”
The woman realized that all she wanted in the world right now was for this guy to stay and bother her, and she had no idea what to do with that feeling, so she ignored it and continued packing up her things so she could be on her way.
“Maybe just consider what I did … a-a-a-a … a very warm Maine welcome.”
From any other guy, such a hokey appeal would have been creepy. But from East, it was earnest. And charming, somehow. And it took the woman by such sweet surprise that she stopped packing up her things.
And the lightness she had been feeling filled up her insides again. And seemed to make her acquiesce and say, “All right.”
East was overjoyed that the woman was going to stay in his yard. And he immediately apologized again for hugging her: “I’m real sorry I did that.”
“It’s okay,” the woman said, in a way that made East feel like it really wasn’t and that she would like for him to stop apologizing and stop talking to her and let her do what she was there to do.
And East took the hint and said, “Well, good luck. And if you need anything—somethin’ to eat or some heat … or the bathroom—just give a holler.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
East was a little embarrassed that he had just offered the woman his bathroom. But she’d need a bathroom sooner or later, he figured. So it wasn’t an unreasonable thing to have offered.
And then he turned and was about to go—but, before he did, he realized that he didn’t know the woman’s name. And she didn’t know his. So he said, “And, just so you know: I’m East.”