The Sad Side of Happy

JULY 3 Years After, the Year 2018   ELISA TOOK A BOLD step forward and felt her chest constrict in pain as a shiver run up her spine, trepidation looming over her. The clouds were visibly darker at the moment. Lightning was supposed to look frightening, but as Elisa stood at the edge of the cliff, the lightning looked like stars—massive stars that twinkled in the ever so soft welkin. It was at this time she wished she had gone—no, not completely gone, just invisible—as her eyes breathed in the world’s limitlessness. The sound of anger echoed from the dark skies, thunder. She fluttered her eyelids and breathed gradually. The harsh winds were sore against her body, but she felt so beautiful. She felt as if she was part of the world for once. She found herself staring at the entirety of what was beneath her, at the vast yet soft waves caused by the biting sore winds. The water, to her, looked calm. Gentle. Almost welcoming. She knew the water was a monster—powerful enough to destroy the whole land if it’s water levels rise. Her eyes stung, and before she realized what was happening, a culmination of tears shed from the corners of her burning eyes. She was scared. She was terrified, instead. She could feel her heartbeat—every single pound of it. Not through the drumming sound in her ears, or the way she felt her blood rush through her entire system—it was just there, constantly reminding her that she was utterly and wholly alive. The constant beat was still there even when she held her breath and closed her eyes as she listened…listened…and listened to whatever sound she wanted so desperately to hear. Without knowing, a loud clap of thunder boomed and threw her off her balance. She backed away from the edge of the cliff, not fully prepared for this. Elisa thought for a moment if this was the right thing to do. ‘It would be like in the movies, perhaps. I know how to dive. If I’m not ready, I’ll know it because,’ she thought as she stared ahead, to the line where the sky kissed the water. She was five desperate steps away from death. Elisa took a step forward again. Four... Aunt Tyra used to tell her never to settle for mediocrity, to always believe in herself, and always to face her fears. But today, as she stood at the edge of the cliff, as her eyes looked down at the splashing waters 200 feet below, she wondered: should I face today’s fear?    -- He stood a few feet away from Elisa, holding his breath without knowing, waiting for her to step away. His heart…this great pounding and thick pressure he felt almost broke the bones in his rib cage. ‘Is this possible?’ he thought because maybe he just imagined it. But when the girl with quivering hands moved a step forward, the waves from the water down below splashed so hard it sounded and broke his reverie. Before he ran out of breath, he spoke, "Don’t do it." Elisa’s hands trembled so much; she spun around quickly to make sure she did not hear voices. The shaking stopped. Their eyes met at some point, and then the air in her lungs had gone. Not knocked out but gone, completely gone. She wasn't breathing. Elisa took breathing for granted—she didn’t deny it—until to this day when he unknowingly stole the air from her lungs. Elisa thought his eyes were the worst thing about him because they were so green, so crystal and big and…familiar. She knew she had seen them before, stared back and engulfed in them before. She wanted to speak up and call his name, but the moment she opened her mouth, nothing came. “Don’t do it,” he said again, outstretching an arm at her to stop her as he took deliberate steps toward her. "Stop right there!” Elisa shrieked, trembling at the thought of him witnessing her death. “I…was just admiring the waves.” He nodded, looking pale, his shoulders shaking. "Careful,” he slowly said, “you might fall.” “What, will I die when I do?” she asked, sounding calm but breathless at the same time. She let out a laugh. He peered over at the edge even when he couldn’t see anything from his distance, and released a sigh. “Not from the fall; you’ll die from the impact. Rocks…” he trailed off. She noticed how he enunciated his words and the way his lips quivered every time he stuttered or paused from speaking. Elisa sighed, defeated. The silence stretched toward the sea, and he thought she was going to do it in front of him. He knew this was something he shouldn’t be involved with. But one look at her face and those eyes, those light brown eyes that almost resembled a golden yellow light—he knew he could help her escape it. A dim idea came into his mind as he ambled toward the girl. “I’m just admiring the — er — waves, too,” he said slowly. Elisa found herself widening her eyes at his proximity to the precipice. He watched her with careful eyes and noticed how her eyebrows met in between, close to a lost freckle. Although she did not want to die alone, the idea of him jumping to his death to try and save her worried and made her feel accountable and guilty of the possibility. So, she took another step forward without thinking twice, hoping the bold move itself was going to scare him away. But his heart was burning, and he felt it burst into a more significant blaze as he watched her make the bold decision of taking the step. Three... “Why are you here?” he asked. “I could ask the same thing to you. Didn’t you see the no trespassing signs?” “I don’t know. Didn’t you?” Elisa watched as he brought a hand up to wipe the sweat on his forehead. She realized he was making her anxious. She wasn’t sure if the boy knew what her intentions were, but it seemed like he understood even when she didn’t say anything. He was only two steps closer to her, and she hadn’t noticed; two steps closer for him to grab her arm. “Can you please just leave me alone? I came here to think,” she said hurriedly. Elisa’s problem was that her anger was a slowly filling glass—half empty, half full—at first, there was no problem; no fury, no rage, no words. Until the liquid has reached the top, and it starts to overflow. "I’m admiring the waves,” he prompted with no ounce of feeling projected in his features, but his furrowed expression indicated a more profound concern. She took a half step back and staggered. His fingers tingled as he resisted to reach out and grab her waist to steady her. It was too soon for that. He clenched his hands into a fist and watched her breathe in deeply. Before he could even show any signs of panic, he went on with the conversation as a form of distraction. “Had enough?” he said, his eyes intensely focused at waves crashing onto the rocks. The water split in half as ocean swells, coming from opposite directions, met at a certain point and collided with an unimaginable force. Elisa got the reference and immediately raised her arms in front of her in defense. "What? Why would you think—?" "Something wrong? What I said?” “I know what you mean,” she replied, anger laced in her tone. He shook his head no, and in a deeper voice laced with caution he said, “Don’t do it if—” "Do what?" She realized he caught up. "Jump off the cliff." Elisa silenced. "I stood behind you and," he went on, "and I — well, I — thought you were gonna…jump." He was stupid. No, correction—he was stupidly right, and Elisa hated every part of the truth. Elisa laughed humorlessly, surprised at how straightforward he handled this situation. "Do I know you?" she asked sourly. She looked at him in shock as his shoulder slumped at her question. There was silence as they both looked down at their feet. Elisa was starting to see the stars in her eyes as if she were half-drunk. “I think I’m scared. I fear death." Lightning flashed as he blinked at her sudden statement. She took another deathly step, and it was enough to set the flames in his heart. Two... He took one, too. "You don't fear death," he mused. "You don’t know me.” She sneered. “I do." "But maybe you’re…afraid of life itself," he replied. "Contradicts the fact. But the truth." "Nonsense, you know that?" "Are you running…away from…from something?" He moved closer to her. One step closer. "That’s none of your business," she spat. "Back off!" The glass of liquid was almost full. "I'm so—" "Shut up!" "No, no!” She saw the fear flash in his eyes as she watched him grab her wrist, his hand cold and clammy against her skin. His skin felt icier, she noticed, and his hand seemed to have molded perfectly around her wrist that his iron grip almost ironically held no strength in them. "Don’t do it, please," he spoke, carefully, his eyes pleading. One... He took another step, and Elisa’s eyes widened at how close he was to falling, she stared at the tip of his shoe already off the edge, and the only part of him on land were his heels. His hold on Elisa was the only thing keeping him from falling. She stood on both of her feet more firmly and with conviction as she found a new reason to hinder her meeting with the grim reaper himself. She didn’t want him to die. “What are you doing? You — you step away from me this instant! Are you out of mind?” she yelled in sheer panic. He dared to laugh; it drove Elisa mad. "We both are," he said. "But I’ve cheated death a lot of times." She was silent, waiting for him to continue. But before he could speak, Elisa startled them both when she reached over a free hand to hold his arm, steadying him. The wind was growing harsher and colder, swaying them off-balance, almost as if it were pushing them. "You’re tired," he spoke, "but it's not yet the endgame here." With his free hand, he pulled the sleeve up of his arm, and stopped right where her hand was, and hovered his hand on top of hers, almost grazing but never touching—a scar. Elisa stared at the scar that lay against his skin, lifeless, from his elbow down across his wrist, resembling a line. It wasn’t a fresh scar, but the bumps and stitches were evident. It was one of the three pieces of evidence of his tragic accident two years ago. Sometimes, it aches every night, like someone was stabbing it with a knife, consecutively until he felt numb to the pain. “Accident from three — three years ago,” he explained. He watched as she brought a free hand to trace a delicate finger on the scar. “I have amnesia.” He paused and glanced at her. “Uh, amnesia is—” “I know what amnesia is.” The answer to her question was finally known. Elisa struggled to breathe as she felt her heart constrict even tighter at the sound of his broken and lonely voice. He didn’t remember. He didn’t need to explain to her to understand. Because she already imagined the look of disappointment in somebody’s eyes when he told them he didn’t remember their eyes.  “Are the memories haunting you?” she asked him in a hushed tone. He scoffed. “How could it haunt me when I barely remem — remember? All I ever receive are — disappointed — and, and pity looks.” "Are you in my Support Group circle?" she asked, once again. "You shouldn't be telling me your secret if I’m not." "Not a secret.” He shook his head. “Everyone knows my truth," he bit back. "What do you think is my truth, then?" "I don’t know. But just accept the things happening to us. You shou — should," he replied, “things will be easier.” And then they stood there for another minute in stillness. The air was so thick between them; they both felt it run through them, telling them to step away. "Do me a favor. Come back to the campgrounds — with me. We can forget — yes, forget this conversation then." Thunder boomed what seemed like literally right in front of them. They both flinched in unison. "Please?" he pleaded and tightened his grip on her when he watched her eyes averted its gaze to the crashing waves. He noticed how her body retreated from his touch, but he tightened his grip on her more, if it were possible, and tugged her wrist to snap her out of trance. She was still holding onto his arm with the same force he had on her—they were inevitably going to leave bruises on each other. Elisa inhaled sharply. With all her remaining strength, she pushed both of them aside, away from the precipice. "Please, help me…” He looked at her, and for the first time since they stood an arm's length alongside each other, their eyes met and Elisa…innocent Elisa felt the strong surge of familiarity burst through her entire system. They didn't seem to share the same look of awareness, but it was there, floating in the atmosphere like a bird's feather. She knew him. She knew him. He didn’t. "I’m Marc," he sputtered and reached out to her. "Marc Khader. Can you trust me?" Her ribs felt like a trap. She couldn’t breathe through it. “Marc Khader…” she slowly said, testing the syllables in her tongue. She never thought she could ever call his name again. “Trust you. I can do that,” Elisa replied. She looked down at the scar on his arm and slowly, with delicate hands, pulled away from his hold. His arms fell limply beside him as he watched her slow movements in question. She couldn't bear to gaze upon his eyes at a time like this. She couldn’t risk telling Marc she knew him so much. It would hurt both of them. She knew it was going to be a long story to tell. She knew it was going to hurt him the most predominantly.  She breathed, finally once again and looked back at his eyes, allowing the words to slip past out of her mouth like it was only an innocent, white lie, “I’m Elisa Ridley,” she whispered, never looking away from his attentive eyes. Elisa knew she could not ever forget those eyes, so green they could kill you.