Ellie's River

The sky was as a vaulted ceiling above my head, with not a single cloud in sight. A hot summer day in July made hotter by the distinct lack of any wind. Retribution, I guess. An echo of her fury. Or maybe her pain. Heart in hand, I wiped the sweat from my brow, stepped from my car onto withered grass and leaves, and entered the yard. Its crunch was the only thing I heard as I approached.

I slowly advanced, passing through the crowd of others gathered on the dried-up lawn. They all seemed to sneer at me. If I didn’t know any better, I would have left. I should have. But I needed to tell her. I needed to make sure she knew.

Then I saw her.

She sat perched on a small mound, to the back of the yard. Her crown was of most dignified and resolute grey. The scorching sun didn’t seem to phase her; it gave her a brilliant spotlight. Above her head, a tree withering under the sun’s heat. The grass around her was blessed by her presence – it was the only green spot in the entire yard.

I paused for a minute. Would she want to see me? To hear what I had to say after all this time? Would she admit this pitiful audience?

I took a deep breath and advanced toward her. Soon, I stood facing her, with all the courage I could muster.

“Hello, Ellie.”

Her stare returned to me, cold and unmoving. She barely acknowledged me at all.

“I came to talk to you. Needed to get something off my chest.”

No reply.

“Been six years sober,” I said. “It’s true. It’s been hard, but I haven’t touched a single drink in all this time. I know that means nothing to you now, but I think I need to tell you why.”

Clumsily and hands shaking, I reached into my jeans pocket and pulled out the small velveteen box I brought with me. Opening it, the hellfire of the summer sun caught the sparkle of a diamond perched on a silver band.

“This is yours,” I said. “I wanted you to have it.”

She said nothing. I fiddled with it in my hands, examining its sparkle in the sunlight.

“Remember that day we spent at the river?” My mouth turned up at the memory. “I brought tuna sandwiches in that wicker basket you liked. You looked at me oddly and said you said you never liked tuna.” I chuckled again, still fiddling with the ring. “I gave you a taste, and you ended up eating the whole basket. I thought it was so funny.”

I paused to look at her.

“And then we stripped to our undies and got in the water. ‘It’s too hot,’ you said. Do you remember?”

Still, no response from her.

“You always loved that river. You told me that you used to play in it as a little girl. You even told me how your dad would bring you there when the sun became too unbearable for the farm. You told me how he carried you on his back to that spot, and you would drink from the river and then just dive right in. You told me, right before you pushed me in.” I chuckled again.

“You told me that day…”

I paused to catch a tear from my eye.

“You told me that you wanted to marry someone who reminded you of it. Of that river. Steady, cool and unchanging, with its water just glistening in the sunlight.” I managed a smile. “You were always such the poet.”

“I remember how your face just lit up in the sunlight when you said it. The bushes made a near-perfect shadow on your face, and the water reflected a soft glow in your hair. The river washed away all your makeup, and you said your hair was a perfect mess, but I just knew at that moment, that you were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. That was the first time we kissed.”

Her expression was one of stone, while my face began to well up with tears. I couldn’t take it anymore.

“I know I should have listened to you more that day. You told me all you wanted, and I just brushed it aside. I didn’t listen to you.”

My tears tracked down my face as I spoke.

“I wish I was more like that river. Clean, clear and cool. It’s what you wanted. It’s what you deserved. But I’ve been a fool. I’ve been such an idiot. Now it’s been six and a half years!” I began to sob.

“You begged me not to leave,” I said, wiping the pools of water from my eyes. “You begged me to stay with you. But I was hard-headed. I was upset and stupid. And I decided to go anyway, whiskey in hand in that old pickup truck. I was drunk. I was so drunk I didn’t see you run out of the house after me. I didn’t hear you when you screamed out. I didn’t feel it when the truck—”

I broke down and knelt in front of her, weeping bitterly. The ring fell to the ground. It no longer glimmered in the sun; its light forever lost to the earth below.

“Ellie, I came to tell you that I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You were such a good woman to me, and I didn’t deserve you. I could never deserve you. And you deserved more. You deserved so much more.”

I picked up the ring and placed it back in the box.

“This ring was my grandmother’s,” I said, wiping more tears from my face. “It reminds me of that river where we first kissed. It reminds me of the life we could have lived together. It reminds me of you and of the love we once shared.” Taking a deep breath, I said softly, “I want you to have it. For as long as I live, I will never love another woman the way that I love you. I want you to know that you are my reason why.”

I gently rested the box under the shadow of her grey tombstone.

No sooner had I placed it on the grassy mound that I felt the first drop, then the second, then a river of rain upon my head. I got up and started for the car as the rain soaked my clothes to the skin in no time at all. I dashed through the headstones that greeted me earlier. Jumping into the car, I felt relief.

“Thank you, Ellie,” I whispered, as I drove off into the downpour.