Schism, Part II

(Schism Part I)

I tap on the door and when it opens I'm startled as always by Ellie's eyes. They are this piercing and indescribable shade of green-blue, kind and intelligent. Her face lights up–bright, beautiful.

“Grey! It's so good to see you! How are you?” Ellie's voice is warm. I wonder if she's happier to see me or the supplies I bring. She sounds so sincere…

“I'm alright. I brought the usual, uh, plus…”

“Oh, how sweet!” Ellie cries as she spots the stuffed bear in my wagon, “Is that for the kids?”

“I thought they might like it,” I have trouble meeting her gaze.

“Kids! Come see what Grey brought for you!”

“I found some medicine, too. You mentioned your headaches last time…”

“You're the best, Grey! So thoughtful,” Ellie pulls me into a hug, and I'm not sure what to do. Something flutters in my chest, unfamiliar. I tentatively put my hand on her back.

“Hi!” Ellie's daughter peeks out the door as she approaches. She's probably around 9 or 10.

“Grey!” Ellie's son toddles into view. He's two, I think? I used to bring formula for him when Ellie was having trouble nursing.

As I awkwardly pull away from Ellie's embrace, I wonder what either of the children knows about the schism. I almost envy the boy–for him, this is just the way life has always been.

“Where have you been camping lately?” Ellie asks. This conversation is familiar. There's a cadence we'll follow–like the steps to a dance we both know too well.

“Here and there,” my usual reply.

“Have you joined any of the other groups yet?” her careful response.

“Not really. I'm okay on my own,” my signature line (aka: what I tell everyone who cares to ask).

“No you're not.”

I stare at Ellie, stunned. That is not her line.

“No one is okay all on their own, Grey,” she says, and there's an edge to her voice, “People need people–we need each other. Look outside! The world is literally falling apart. You're not okay. I know you say you are, but I see it. It's in your eyes. I know you care–that's why you do the supplies thing, you want to do your part. But you're fading. I can see it. You're losing what little you have left. I don't want that to happen to you.”

Ellie's kids look up at her, then at me. Numbly, I hand them the bear and they smile and skitter away. I give Ellie her supplies.

“Thank you,” Ellie says, taking the things, “I know I've overstepped, but I had to say something. Think about it, Grey. I care about you, too. I don't want to see you disappear. We've all already lost too much.”

“I know,” I say, and I almost hide the shake in my voice.

“You can stay with us. I know I offer every time, but really think about it this time.”

“Okay.”

“Promise me you'll think about it,” she insists.

“I will.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“You're welcome,” I'm turning before I've finished uttering the words. I can feel the moisture dripping down my cheeks. The cracked sky is filled with churning, unnatural clouds but it hasn't started to rain just yet. I can't use that as an excuse.

Ellie's right. I wish I could be with others, I wish I could settle down somewhere and share in the responsibility of rebuilding the world.

The truth is, I'm still afraid.

I don’t want to get hurt again.

***

The final door closes in my face, and I sag. I’ve kept just enough for me for tonight. The others should be good for at least a week, but I’ll have to scavenge something for myself tomorrow, and the next day. I have to travel light.

The rhythm of the squeak of the wheel is cold comfort. The purple sky continues its strange pulsations overhead, and I wonder if it’s finally going to rain. The air is stagnant, like it’s holding its breath. It’s dizzying.

I don’t know where my feet are taking me. I barely notice as I pass the green-green park. I glimpse floating pieces of earth and places where existence is breaking down. There’s an emptiness, and I wonder as always what the schism took from me. Something inside me is missing, an invisible void.

Then there’s the visible void. I’ve walked to the end of the street again without realizing it. Something in my chest squirms as I try to make sense of it, what I’m staring at.

I don’t know if anyone’s ever gone into the shadows. Maybe there are people that do it all the time and I don’t know about it. Maybe everything we’ve lost is just on the other side. Maybe death is waiting, or some kind of hell even worse than our dilapidated world. Maybe it’s heaven? I don’t know about these things. I might have gone to church before, but I wouldn’t remember. I understand the basic concepts, so something still remains, I guess. The shadows in front of me look ready and able to swallow whatever the world brings them. And maybe they should? Anything crazy enough to get this close to the nothing deserves to be swallowed.

I step through.

(Part III)