Part 2.
It was barely a whisper, hardly audible over the far-off rumble of the lake. It hung in the air though, digging at my skull while I clawed for something, anything to say. I could grind at that soil all night, but I couldn’t dig up the right words. They dangled like fishhooks in my throat and the harder I pulled, the deeper they dug in, refusing to let go. “I…” my lips parted, but my tongue hung heavy, struggling to form sounds, “I don’t know.”
She just stared at me, eyes wavering across my face. For a moment I thought the sundown caught a glimmer in the corner of her eye. Before I could say anything, her eyes squinched shut and her head hung down towards her toes, but her smile reappeared, gleaming down into the dirt.
I felt my hands unclench, the shovel fell down into the dirt. I took a step towards her my hand lifted up to reach out to her, but I froze when she glanced back up at me. My hand fell back down to my side. I stood there looking up at her, while she sat there, looking back down at me.
She whispered behind a pronounced sniffle, “C’mon, get out of that hole, it’s getting dark.”
My head barely poked out of the ditch, even standing on my toes, but I could see that she was right. The sun was a fiery sliver, dipping down beneath the horizon and a few pinprick stars poked out into the darkening sky.
I tossed a quick glance up at her and began the struggle to pull myself up out of the hole. My back and shoulders were on fire, the muscles felt as though they’d been driven through a meat grinder, and pounded into a grisly paste. I grunted, air hissing between my gritted teeth. She watched all the while, I could feel her eyes on me, placid, unreadable while my face dragged along the grass and my fingers dug into the ground, fighting for some handhold.
Dripping with sweat again, with the chill night air closing in around the dunes, I finally managed to drag myself up. I rolled out of the hole, breathless, laying on my back and panting up at the rapidly dimming night sky. My skin was cold and clammy, but my whole torso burned just below the surface. I don’t know how long I laid there before I heard her voice again. “Y’know,” she grinned beside me, “you forgot your shovel down there.”
I pushed myself up off the ground; my arms wavered a moment before I got my legs beneath me. I stood up and glared down into the hole. It was almost six feet deep, nearly eight feet long. It had taken shape in the last few hours and there, at the bottom of it, sat the shovel, a grim reminder of a dirty business.
She still smiled up at my face, a mask of sweat, dirt, and a few loose blades of grass, and she laughed, seeing me grimace down at the shovel. “Don’t worry about it,” she said, “you can always get it later.”
“I could have finished this tonight,” I muttered.
“That’s okay,” she popped up from her seat on the edge of the hole effortlessly, “just leave it for now. Let’s go.” Her hand lit on my arm and she turned, ready to walk back down towards the shore. It was a small thing, but the touch of her fingers made the aching of my body just a little more bearable.
I paced after her, slow at first, working out the cramps in my legs. She waited ‘til I drew up beside her and we started to walk down towards the beach together. It was quiet again, the sun just an indigo memory fading in the western sky. I turned to watch her face, still beautiful in the half-light, and said, “Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” she whispered, staring off into the lake, her face a blank slate. When she saw that I was watching her that same old grin flashed back up at me and she said, “I think I can wait a little longer.”
She just stared at me, eyes wavering across my face. For a moment I thought the sundown caught a glimmer in the corner of her eye. Before I could say anything, her eyes squinched shut and her head hung down towards her toes, but her smile reappeared, gleaming down into the dirt.
I felt my hands unclench, the shovel fell down into the dirt. I took a step towards her my hand lifted up to reach out to her, but I froze when she glanced back up at me. My hand fell back down to my side. I stood there looking up at her, while she sat there, looking back down at me.
She whispered behind a pronounced sniffle, “C’mon, get out of that hole, it’s getting dark.”
My head barely poked out of the ditch, even standing on my toes, but I could see that she was right. The sun was a fiery sliver, dipping down beneath the horizon and a few pinprick stars poked out into the darkening sky.
I tossed a quick glance up at her and began the struggle to pull myself up out of the hole. My back and shoulders were on fire, the muscles felt as though they’d been driven through a meat grinder, and pounded into a grisly paste. I grunted, air hissing between my gritted teeth. She watched all the while, I could feel her eyes on me, placid, unreadable while my face dragged along the grass and my fingers dug into the ground, fighting for some handhold.
Dripping with sweat again, with the chill night air closing in around the dunes, I finally managed to drag myself up. I rolled out of the hole, breathless, laying on my back and panting up at the rapidly dimming night sky. My skin was cold and clammy, but my whole torso burned just below the surface. I don’t know how long I laid there before I heard her voice again. “Y’know,” she grinned beside me, “you forgot your shovel down there.”
I pushed myself up off the ground; my arms wavered a moment before I got my legs beneath me. I stood up and glared down into the hole. It was almost six feet deep, nearly eight feet long. It had taken shape in the last few hours and there, at the bottom of it, sat the shovel, a grim reminder of a dirty business.
She still smiled up at my face, a mask of sweat, dirt, and a few loose blades of grass, and she laughed, seeing me grimace down at the shovel. “Don’t worry about it,” she said, “you can always get it later.”
“I could have finished this tonight,” I muttered.
“That’s okay,” she popped up from her seat on the edge of the hole effortlessly, “just leave it for now. Let’s go.” Her hand lit on my arm and she turned, ready to walk back down towards the shore. It was a small thing, but the touch of her fingers made the aching of my body just a little more bearable.
I paced after her, slow at first, working out the cramps in my legs. She waited ‘til I drew up beside her and we started to walk down towards the beach together. It was quiet again, the sun just an indigo memory fading in the western sky. I turned to watch her face, still beautiful in the half-light, and said, “Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” she whispered, staring off into the lake, her face a blank slate. When she saw that I was watching her that same old grin flashed back up at me and she said, “I think I can wait a little longer.”