Troubled Waters

CW: Mentions of suicide

Right around April, maybe three years ago, we were sitting on the roof of our car, the old battered red Mitsubishi, parked right in the middle of the road. Friedman Avenue was void of traffic for a large majority of the time, so no one ever came to bother us while we sat there, looking up at the massive grey clouds. It had been raining for an hour, and we’d been there, motionless, for just as long. Nathan was dead silent, and back then, that was not something I thought I would ever miss. The faint sound of his breathing, barely audible over the tapping of the raindrops on the windshield, was all I’d been focusing on the whole time. I was soaked, my sundress as damp as if I’d plunged into the public pool two blocks down while fully clothed, and I remember feeling nothing but happy. Nathan’s fingers, interlaced with mine while our hands rested in a growing puddle, were starting to prune, and he looked the least miserable I’d seen him in a long time. I don’t remember realizing all the light was gone from the white sky, nor inhaling and feeling the petrichor fill up my lungs to the brim, but soon enough it was night, and Nathan drove us home. He would always drive with his frozen right hand resting on my left thigh, no matter how much I would swat it away and tell him to keep both hands on the wheel. He had all these little habits that, although I pretended aggravated me, greatly comforted me in the thought that we’d be together forever.

I’ve told this specific story an infinite number of times, but no one is allowed to tell me they’re bored of it. Not like anyone would ever dare; from the funeral on, everyone around me was dying to hear any joyful tidbits of what life with Nathan was like, back when he still deemed the world had wonders to offer. I’ve recounted this perhaps meaningless anecdote to his parents, to mine, to all of our extended families, and every time, they look at me with these deep, sad eyes. They look at me with the melancholy he used to lay onto me, and as much as I try to appear strong, I always have to excuse myself and go collect my emotions in private. As I make my way through the woods, I think about that story, about that moment where time stood still for the two of us, once again.

I know my way around the trees like I know the floorplan of what he used to call our dream house. It was a joke; we’d been planning the architecture of our forever home for years and in the meantime, we lived in an isolated cottage up in the mountains. It was quaint, but so far from what we’d envisioned for ourselves that he couldn’t help himself but make fun of it constantly. The years kept passing, and our house was still far from being ready, and so it started to look like the cottage would have to be our “dream house” in the end. I chase the abandoned blueprints from my mind and keep avoiding the ravines and other ambushes that appear on all sides of the path. I am almost certain I could walk this track, from the main road all the way down to the river, with my eyes closed.

As I get closer, I feel a ball of anxiety and nausea form in the pit of my stomach, as it does every time. I hear his laugh in the rustling of the leaves in the wind, I picture him doing a cannonball into the waves every time the water splashes against the shore. He was the forest with every fibre of his being, and now that he’s gone, the forest simply has no choice but to be Nathan in return. I feel him all around me, but it’s not just his rare moments of liveliness that I can sense. I take the last couple of steps needed for my feet to be in the water, and from the corner of my eye, I can see it: the rock. An imposing cliff, more like, that stands tall to my right and hides most of the horizon, almost reaching the sun. To get up there, he would climb the steep side of it all the way to the top as I nervously watched from the bottom, ready for him to fall to his death at any time. But no, he always made it safely, and he’d wave at me from the top with child-like excitement before diving or backflipping into the river.

If anyone had told me that, one day, he’d willingly fall to his death from that cliff, I would’ve laughed. Now, I can’t look at it without remembering the terrifying realization of what he was about to do. I can’t do so much as think of the cliff without also seeing him as he took a final step into nothingness. I can’t unsee his limp body float in the air, I can’t erase my own scream from my mind, I can never forget his gaze meeting mine and his eyes closing for the very last time when his head hit the surface. Today is no different; when I turn and come face to face with the rock, tears start flowing from my eyes and before I can even realize it, I am on my knees, right there in the water. My whole body trembles as I remind myself that I couldn’t save him, that I failed Nathan like I’d never failed anyone before. My shins scrape against the sharp rocks at the bottom of the river, but I pay them no attention. I know he didn’t mean for me to see him falling; he never would’ve done such a thing, but I can’t help but wonder what went through his mind when he did see me. Did he regret it? Did he still love me enough, then, to regret it? The sun sets over the feared rock, but from behind my curtain of still-flowing tears, it makes no real difference. I remain on my knees, shivering as the water grows colder around my legs and seeps deeper into my shoes and socks, but I don’t look up for a long time.

Suddenly, when the sky finishes turning pitch black, I realize I’ve never stuck around by the river this late into the night. I don’t trust myself to be here alone once nature goes to sleep and the forest doesn’t sound like it’s watching over me anymore. Just as I stand up to leave, a faint, cyan-coloured halo of light appears in the middle of the river, about 50 feet ahead of me. As I wipe the remainder of tears from my cheeks, the light it emits keeps making the environment brighter, and the circle gets so big that it nearly reaches my feet. In the middle of the halo, the water starts bubbling, even though it’s nowhere near-boiling temperatures. Something tells me I should leave, maybe even run back down the path that takes me back to the road, but my feet are firmly stuck in place and I am forced to keep watching the water. The bubbles inflate and explode incessantly, until finally, someone, or something, emerges from the water. A head peeks out of the water first, closely followed by what looks like a humanoid torso and arms, but after the waist, no legs: it’s all some kind of smoke that sways around in the air. The shadowy figure that now stands, or rather floats, before me is enormous, its skin a translucid blue and its whole body illuminated and reflecting the moon’s light the way metal would. I can’t tell if it’s a woman or a man; it looks like something in between and neither, all at once. When it opens its mouth, a frosty cloud escapes, and by the time it floats through the space between us and reaches me, I hear a deafening sound of waves slowly turn into words.

“Are you the fairy I have been waiting for?” Its voice is booming, seemingly coming from everywhere around me. Nathan had dubbed me his forest fairy, way back when we first started dating, and for some reason, it doesn’t strike me as bizarre that this… thing, would also address me as such. There is no inflection in its tone, no clear indication that this was a question, so it takes me a while to realize it is expecting an answer from me. Frozen and completely stunned by the sight of this water creature, I find myself unable to speak and simply nod.

“Ordinarily, I am not a patient one. I have many other mortals to attend to. You’re lucky he was able to convince me you needed my assistance,” it continues, swirls of light escaping the surface of its glass-like skin and disappearing into the night, all around it. Its hair, which looks more like white strands of see-through seaweed than anything, floats up and down as if transported by the wind, yet I feel the air is completely still around me.

“He? Is Nathan with you? Who are you?”

I hear the despair in my own voice when my words make their way towards my mysterious companion. In that instant, I feel sorry for myself. I would give anything to see him again, but from the creature’s subtly pitiful expression, I can tell my wishes will not be granted tonight.

“Some humans have resolved to call me Nav and attempt to pray to me using that, although I was never given a proper name, nor was I meant to be worshipped. I watch over the waters of this land, caring for the living souls that inhabit them, collecting the souls that lose their way within them. Your love rests with me, as he forever will, and now acts as one of my sprites,” the spirit whistles in my general direction. I can’t help but look around, even though I was taught long ago that sprites are not visible to the human eye.

“Is he alright?” I feel panicked, I cannot shake the anxious feeling that has settled into my bones. “Can he hear me?”

“Do you not feel him wandering all around? He greatly pleaded for permission to hover around you; he has been pushing you towards me for weeks now, to no avail. You always leave the sanctuary too soon.” The spirit gestures its arms towards the forest as it says this, sending a cascade of water droplets my way. When they land on me, it feels as though an army of hands is patting my shoulders, caressing my forehead, running its fingers through my hair. I feel stuck in a group hug of strangers, and although I feel Nathan is somewhere in there, I struggle to pinpoint the familiarity with which he should be embracing me. I fear making the spirit disappointed in me, so I simply nod, attempting to look reassured.

“It is very rare for me to collect a soul such as the one your love had to offer… It was not yet his time. He insists I tell you he never stopped loving you, and that this is what he felt he needed to do. He insists I tell you he apologizes for all the pain he caused,” it says in a rumbling voice, even deeper than before, at an even slower pace than before.

My eyes have cried all the tears they could for tonight, but my heart always has more space for hurting, and the mere mention of Nathan thinking about me sends me into a frenzy. Not being able to hold him, not even being able to see him… I feel my insides swell and press against the walls of my body with all their might; I brace myself, genuinely convinced the pain is about to make me explode. Instead of that happening, I just start screaming. A feral noise starts from the depths of my chest cavity and makes it all the way out into the open before I have any time to repress it. Unfazed, the creature watches me as I rid my lungs of their contents, and when I’ve finally run out of breath, I fall to my knees, feeling empty and weak.

“When you said I needed your assistance, what did you mean?” I manage to squeeze all of that out between two gasps for air.

“Well, it is part of my calling. When someone loses a soul to my waters, it is my duty to heal whatever they leave behind. Grief can destroy beings from the inside, more than anything I have ever witnessed before. I cannot make it disappear, but I can help soothe it,” it says in a matter-of-fact way, incredibly emotionless. Despite its seeming lack of compassion, its words feel like bandages being wrapped around me.

“Can I ask you another question?”

“I have other duties that need completing before dawn, fairy. Be brief,” it breathes out, surprisingly gentle. Feeling sufficiently replenished, I rise back to my feet.

“When does it stop hurting?”

For the first time tonight, the spirit closes its eyes, and I feel it thinking, maybe even feeling for me. Its eyes don’t open when it starts talking.

“One day, you will awake, and your first thought will not be for him. One day, the sound of his name will flood your mind with images of light before any memories of the cliff have a chance to make their way through. You will walk through these woods, your heart lighter than a feather, with a smile on your face, and you will feel him, a sprite in the nearby waves, sometimes hiding way up in the trees. I do not hold more knowledge than you, and I cannot tell you when that day will come. But I can extend my senses into the future better than you ever will, and I will spare you this single promise: that day is coming,” it tells me, its voice still full of overbearing tides, but more comforting now than it was aggressive at first.

In return, I have nothing but silence to offer. The spirit looks down at me, and I look up at it, and though I cannot see any of its beams of light glitter towards me, I feel some kind of energy escape its aura and enter my body through my forehead. Something escapes from me as this happens; I can’t put my finger on it, but my heart beats faster, in a way that feels healthier, less painful. The spirit comes towards me, shrinking down to my size, and when it's close enough for me to look into its eyes, I find it looks like Nathan. I know I am imagining it; I quickly noticed that every single face I’ve ever come by can easily be projected onto the unbelievably anonymous one of this water entity, but I cannot help myself.

It gets incredibly close to me and when I inhale deeply, my nostrils start tickling, unexpectedly filled with the pungent smell of salt. I am so accustomed to the blandness of freshwater and I haven’t been to the sea in years, so for a moment, it takes me back to my childhood summer vacations. It leans in even closer and when I close my eyes, our faces come into contact, although it feels nothing like I had expected. I don’t think it kisses me, but whatever it does, I get from it a wave of comfort from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes, albeit completely frozen. When I escape the trance-like feeling its embrace gave me and finally open my eyes, a deep shiver runs down my spine; I am in the complete darkness, alone. I look to my right, to my left, I even check the sky, but there’s nothing: the spirit has truly disappeared. The water is back to being nearly invisible and I can feel every pore of my body again. I feel myself smiling and, incredulous, I have to touch my hand to my mouth to make sure it’s really happening. When I turn around to go home, at last, I don’t even think of looking towards the cliff; the trees open up in front of me, and the moonbeams shining down from above make themselves brighter to light the way. I start walking, unafraid, and the wind pushes me forward, one step at a time. With every gust, I hear Nathan's voice whispering my name between the branches.