Last Moments of Freedom

It had taken us nearly three days to get to the cabin on foot with no vehicle or cell phones. I had been taking a piss, leaning one hand against a tree, steam rising from the place in the snow where the hot liquid splashed. I didn't look down at the dried blood covering my jeans. 

“Jimmy!” 

The sound of Keisha’s shouts was enough to get me scrambling as I pulled my pants around my hips and stumbled in her direction. My heart kicked into a trot and I let the speed of it keep my head above the wave of fear that threatened to freeze me colder than the lake. I skidded to the edge of an embankment and wrapped an arm around a small tree that stood at the edge like a sentry. Relief spilled over me, the icy realization only causing my heart to drum faster as I saw Keisha perched at the bottom of the hill. A crinkly patch of sunlight had sifted through the many branches, falling in speckles over her lilac-colored hair. She glanced back at me with that beautiful smile before turning to point into the canopy of trees. 

“Is that it?” she asked from below me.

I stared in the direction of her finger. For the second time in my life, I saw the edges of my Uncle’s cabin bleed into view. I had not stepped a foot inside since the day my mother had left me at the bottom of the mountain nearby. The old vacation home has been long forgotten by most of the family since that particular tragedy. I prayed to whatever God still loved me that no one had come to pay a visit this weekend. 

I started down the hill at an angle, sliding against the steepness of the embankment until I came to a stop just in front of her. My memories rushed past me with the shifting snow. I turned back to her, offering a hand. 

“C’mon. Let’s hope the key is still under that pot.” 

~~~

We spent our first 20 hours going stir-crazy. Wandering and pacing, glancing at each other for a sign as to what to do next. They would be coming, they would be looking for us. Even as our bodies stilled, we found no peace. We came together, holding each other with a sense of uneasiness — as if letting go meant never seeing the other ever again. 

I stood at the hearth, a fire crackling gently from within, and I let the heat burn the skin of my shins, my body covered in the only pair of boxers I had to my name. Keisha was curled into the couch, her arms wrapped around her knees in the fetal position, the robe from the closet too big for her. We managed to bring in enough water from the well outside to clean our bodies over the bathroom sink. We hand-washed our bloodied clothes in whatever was left, leaving them to dry against the hearth.

“How much longer can we stay here?” She asked me without looking up. 

“We’re stupid to stay any longer,” I murmured. 

Neither of us moved to get up. The wooden planks creaked their worry as the shadows danced across the face of the fierce girl that had given it all up for me. 

“Keisha… I…” 

“Jimmy, stop.” She sat up, the sizable robe falling over her shoulders. “I know what you’re going to say. And we already talked about it. I’m coming with you.” 

  I wanted to believe her. That we were both making the right choice. That our love would save us from this all. So I didn’t bring up the sounds of her sobbing as I washed our clothes, or the silent shake of her shoulders as she disappeared to another room. 

She touched me gently that night – as if our love could save us from the damage I caused. Her hair fell forward over us, curtaining our faces from the harsh realities of the world. She tried to kiss me as if it wasn’t one of the last times but I knew better, and every second convinced me that she deserved something more. 

We fell into a restless sleep and when my dreams washed over me, the memories of my past played behind my eyes. The mountain reared its ancient existence before us as it had all those years ago. Mom was there again, just as she had been that day, filled with ominous knowing. She squatted in front of me, zippering the parka I wore. My hiking boots had been too small and my toes were already blistered but I did my best not to bring it up. 

There was little snow on the ground but the wind whipped at us, causing me to wonder about my own mother’s sanity. She stood there too long, staring up at the peaks before turning back to me. 

“On second thought, Jimmy, it might be best if we get you home. I already called Uncle Vernon and he’s going to come to pick you up.” 

I can still remember the relief I felt at getting to take those damned shoes off. It was so profound that I hadn’t even pondered Uncle Vernon or the strangeness of her voice. I ran back to the bench by the bus stop and started to undo the laces. It wasn’t until I finished them both that the stillness of the bench next to me became noticeable. My skin prickled at something other than the cold. I glanced up, scanning the area for my mother, but there was no one – only the mountain and the wind. I screamed, not her name, not to bring her back but because of the anger. I was angry that she had left me, that dad had left me, that Uncle Vernon would come to pity and pluck me off this bench. I fumed, the heat of my anger rolling off of me in visible waves. I never even looked for her. 

The whistling of the kettle pulled me from sleep, the recent dream carving fresh wounds into my heart as I contemplated my own mountains. 

~~~ 

I spent the day whispering sweet nothings into Keisha's ear, hoping that maybe those moments could erase the impending notion that we would lose each other. I stumbled upon an old record player in the basement and soon the velvet crooning of Frank Sinatra’s That’s Life lilted throughout our wooden sanctuary. Keisha pulled me up from my space on the floor, and I twirled her body close against mine, allowing myself to focus only on the present. Our histories and futures twirled away from us as we danced, and we lost ourselves in being, laughing together for the first time in days. Her heavy eyelids finally fell, leaving me with me creeping shadows of my thoughts. The night ticked away as I paced, piling cigarettes in the ashtray out front. It wasn’t until the sky turned pink that I descended to the basement once more. 

—

Keisha pushed open the sliding glass door to the deck, “Jimmy, aren’t you cold?” 

I did not turn to her, or wrap my bare arms around myself. I kept my gaze straight ahead, staring into the wood, wishing she would shut the door, and just go back to sleep until I was gone. 

“Jimmy.”

The tone of her voice forced my eyes on her. 

“What’s going on?” She stepped out onto the deck, her pink socks squishing in the snow.

“Keisha… I…” My voice cracked and I wished more than anything to be the boy under the mountain losing my mother. I had survived that one before, I could do it again. But, this girl…

Sirens pierced the air, causing us both to look down the drive and up the embankment. The snow-covered mountains would soon be shaded with red and blue lights. 

Keisha’s words were icy. “What did you do?”

The tears had started. 

“There was a working phone in the basement.”

“No, no, Jimmy, NO!” she screamed as she ran to me, latching her arms around my middle, pushing her body into mine. I let my arms fold around her, giving her everything I had left – giving her all my last moments of freedom. She sobbed into my chest while I stroked her lilac hair.

I let “I’m sorry” tumble from my lips over and over again until someone reached between us and tore her away from me. The police dragged me toward those swirling colors as they held Keisha in place. She kicked at them, thrashing with her anger.

 My chest slammed against the hood of the car and I reveled in the sensation, the pain more bearable than the tearing inside. I turned to watch Keisha, the cold air prickling her skin while her tears splashed ice onto the deck. The car started its descent down the mountain and I turned to leave her there, feeling a flutter of understanding as to why my mother did the same.