An Eternal Adventure

Tap, tap

The little girl sighed and rolled over, hoping for the noise to stop. She pulled the thick blue comforter up to her chin, sinking peacefully into its warmth.

Tap, tap

Slowly, she opened her eyes and was met with nothing but darkness. She couldn’t even see the shadows in her room, nor the outlines of the desk, chairs, or mirror.

Tap, tap

Begrudgingly, she pushed the blanket off her body. Her thin legs swung to the side of her bed, and after a moment of hesitation, her small, bare feet touched the cool wood of her floors. She sighed as she stood, and felt the cold night air bite her bare arms and legs. Shivering, she made her way to the window.

Tap, tap

She quickly drew up her blinds, allowing the moonlight to flood the room, and bring color to her brown, slender face. She unlocked the window and pulled it up, sticking her head out as the boy prepared to throw another pebble.

“What?!” She hissed into the silent night.

The boy, tall and thin, grinned up at her as he lowered his arm. “Come down!”

“Why?” She tried to appear angry, but a slight smile grew on her lips.

“Just . . . because,” the boy continued to grin like an idiot, but she couldn't bring herself to care because of her love for him and his stupid grin.

She rolled her eyes and said, “Let me get a jacket.”

“Ok.”

Her curly black hair disappeared for a moment, and the boy took the time to put the pebble back in his pocket. A few moments later, she returned with a jacket and shoes, climbed out the window, onto the tree, and made her way to the ground. Without saying a word, the boy took her hand, and lead her off into the forest.

Leaves crunched beneath their feet, and every once in a while she thought she heard a wild animal not far off. She found herself getting closer and closer to him, until their bodies seemed attached at the hip.

“Here we are,” said the boy, as they stood on the bank of a river.

It was huge, dark, and frightening, yet beautiful all the same. The moonlight bounced off the rippling waves, as there were no trees to block the starry night sky.

Together, they sat down on the bank, dipping their feet into the frigid water. He handed her a pebble and asked if she knew how to skip rocks. She shook her head, and he demonstrated. Moments later, she had caught the hang of it, and together they created endless ripples across the water's surface.

“Why did you bring me here?” the girl asked after a while.

He turned to her and placed a warm hand on her face. “I wanted to see you,” he said. “And I wanted to teach someone how to skip rocks.”

She gave him a puzzled look and opened her mouth to speak, but her thoughts were quickly lost as she found herself staring a bit too hard into his stark grey eyes. Her face naturally rested in his hand, and she moved closer, and closer, until their lips met.

From the tree line across the river, an old brown owl took flight and made a silent trip over the pair.

The girl looked in the mirror one day and could see herself no more. Where a bright, happy face should have been, a hollow skull took its place. In her hand was a chunk of hair. The second chunk that day. The tenth that week.

She wanted to put it back, to glue it to her head.

She loved her hair. He loved her hair. And now there was too much missing to hide it. But oh, how she wanted to keep hiding it. How she wanted to keep pretending that she was all right, that the medicine wasn’t torturing her, that she was winning against this disease. That she could stay with him for a lifetime to come.

A tear trickled down her hollow cheek, and a look of shock crossed her face. Somehow, she hadn’t expected tears. She hadn’t cried yet. She had been strong. Why now? Why were the tears coming now?

Tap, tap

“Can I come in?” The boy pressed his ear to the door, hoping for an affirmative reply.

She sat there, staring at the skull that couldn’t possibly be her. Tears were now streaming down her face, and while she opened her mouth, nothing would come out.

The doorknob turned, and the boy pushed the door open just a crack. He poked his nose in, then his chin, then his head. Their eyes met in the mirror, for a split second, before she dropped the clump of hair and brought her hands over her face, hiding the tears a moment too late.

His stomach dropped. He wasn’t the best at comforting her, and he was scared to say the wrong thing. So he kept quiet and made his way to her side. He moved her hands away from her face and tilted her head so her eyes would meet his. He saw fear. Heavy, unbridled fear clouded her eyes and her tiny hands trembled in his.

He smiled at her, leaned forward, and placed a kiss on her forehead. When he drew back, the fear had been shocked out of her eyes.

“Come on,” he said, tugging her away from the mirror.

Without another word, they packed a couple of bags and got in the car. They drove to the airport, picked a destination, and waited to board the plane.

“What are we doing?” She whispered to him. Her foot tapped nervously against the ground.

“Those treatments…” his words drifted off as he chose them carefully. His hand held hers tight. He was scared too. “Those treatments are awful, aren’t they?”

She nodded.

“And you’re tired of them, aren’t you?”

She paused. “They might save me.”

“Yes.”

“But they failed before.”

He nodded.

“I didn’t want to lose my hair. I didn’t want you to see me lose my hair. I didn’t want you to see me look like I do.”

“You still look the same to me,” he said. At first, she stiffened, as if offended by the comment. She didn’t know how to take it. “You’re still just as pretty. You’re still beautiful. You’re still my girl. You’re still the person I want to take off with in the middle of the night. Nothing changes because you lost your hair. Actually, don’t you think our adventures will be a little easier without it? I mean, all those products, all that extra shower time—we can skip all of it now.”

Once again, the puzzled look crossed her face. His words were ridiculous, yet they made all the sense in the world.

He smiled and asked again, “Are you tired of the treatments?”

“Yes. They make me feel awful.”

“Then we’re done with the treatments and we’re done with this city. We’re leaving, and we’re going to have fun together, and that’s that.”

A warm feeling grew inside of her, fluttering around in her stomach and spreading to her heart. She put her head on his shoulder, and said, “When we get there, can you shave my head?”

“Absolutely,” he said. His gaze drifted to the window, and against the fading sunlight, a brown owl flew swiftly by.

Years later, the boy found himself driving with no destination.

The gas was depleting, bit by bit, and he had yet to pick a destination.

He found himself in the mountains, alone on the road. The sun would be setting soon, and he needed to pick a place to stop.

His head felt fuzzy. He couldn’t focus, his eyes bounced around, and he scratched at his beard every few seconds. She had never liked his beard.

He reached for the cup of coffee in the cupholder and took a sip. His face scrunched up as he reluctantly swallowed the cold, bitter liquid.

He sighed, set the cup back down, and put his hand back on the wheel. Slowly, his foot fell harder and harder on the gas pedal.

Faster, faster, faster.

Drive. Just drive.

The years hadn’t been wasted. He had loved every minute of them. Every last second. He loved her bald head, her raspy laugh, her weakened smile, and her frail little hands. He loved their adventures. He loved all the places they had visited, all the nights they had slept in the car, all the starry skies they had seen, all the cheap hotel beds they had slept in.

How would he ever choose a destination now? She chose the destinations. She said, “We’re going to Greece today!” She said, “We’re taking the train to Paris today!”

She was always so happy, even through the pain. She always loved picking the place, and he loved the adventure. He loved the trip, the time it took to get there. He loved the silent rides, the rides where they talked for hours about the universe, the rides where all she wanted to do was hold his hand, the rides where she wanted the windows down because it was weird to feel the wind on her bare head.

The sun had set. He’d lost track of time.

A little sight-seeing stop was coming up ahead. He pulled over and parked the car so he could look out over the mountainside.

Little pockets of lights could be seen below. Tiny towns that would be sleeping soon. Some were connected by nothing but two-lane roads.

He hated two-lane roads. She thought they made you slow down and appreciate the journey.

He looked to his right, almost expecting her to be there in the passenger seat. For a split second, he thought he saw her tiny little figure. The red sundress she always loved, and her beautiful black curls raging around her head. He thought he heard her laugh. It had sounded like little tinker bells before the disease had made it scratch against her throat. He thought he saw her smile, shy but so wonderful to witness. He thought he saw her hand reaching out to touch his face.

A soft smile crossed his face, and finally, he let the tears come.

Maybe he had seen her, one last time, just for a moment. Perhaps she was on this adventure with him, laughing at the fact that he couldn’t choose a destination.

But now he saw that the space where she had always been, right by his side, was empty. Deserted, cold, and alone.

Still, he smiled, and looked over the mountainside again.

Further down the slope, an old, gnarled tree stood apart from the rest. In its branches perched a huge barn owl, whose pitch-black eyes were fixed on him. It opened its beak, and the sound of tinker bells echoed in his ears.