Fallen

For the first time in a long, long time, Heath was on his way to see Lora.

Heath couldn’t lie; the anniversary date crept up on him this year. Between all of his traveling and checking in on his family, he hadn’t spent as much time with Lora as he wanted to, let alone prepared for the anniversary.

Okay, so it wasn’t just not “as much time.” Heath had totally left her.

Huffing, Heath continued on to their special place. She hadn’t forgotten him, right? No, no; that’s ridiculous. Their love was strong enough to defeat time apart.

Dancing alone. Music, and laughter. Green eyes meeting brown. Brown eyes like firewood, like pools of hot chocolate (Heath was getting cold).

A calloused hand reaching out; judging at first, then accepting—perceiving. Seeing and being seen for the first time. Dancing together. Gliding, (well, moving, and maybe even stumbling,) around and around ‘til they were asked to leave.

Time passes. Turns out, those are a woodworker’s hands. She makes things: art. She chops, plans, saws, sands, and the result? Masterpieces, even when she doesn’t think so.

(The trees in the woods he walks through, he thinks, would be honored to be reborn under Lora’s craftsmanship.

He knows he was.)

One day, she understands him. He was embarrassed by his comparatively delicate touch, but she asks, so he answers, honestly and whole-heartedly. He shows her his studio, where he blends colors and glides brushes across canvas. She thinks he has a gift. He says the same of her.

They fall in love and build a life together. Their house, he thinks, is like that birds’ nest; they put work into carefully crafting a home, putting their skills together to craft and color the perfect lovers’ den.

Living together made them realize that they are the perfect team. They start their own business. Lora builds beautiful pieces and manages all of the money, while Heath simply decorates them. She tells him not to be so modest, and presses a kiss to his lips.

Things are going well, and then…

And then…

Oh.

Heath stops. He can’t remember.

All is quiet. But then, there’s the unmistakable peckpeckpeckpeckpeck of a (adeptly-named) woodpecker. It reminds Heath of Lora—he knows that this is so not because it is the perfect metaphor, but because he wants to walk through the world and be constantly reminded of the love of his life.

 So what if Heath doesn’t remember? Lora will remind him. Of course! Of course she will. He just has to get to her.

Heath tries in vain to appreciate the freshly fallen snow and the peaceful quiet of solitude, but the abundance of trees untouched by his beloved woodpecker began to feel less charming and more and more...sinister? Violating? He didn’t know, but it didn’t matter.

He reached the hill! He’s running upwards, and she’ll be at the top, holding flowers and waiting for him, patient and loving as ever, and he will apologize, but she’ll insist that it’s okay, and he’ll keep saying sorry...their standard Lora and Heath lovers’ quarrel.

Or, Heath reaches the top of their special place. And Lora isn’t there. No sign of flowers, or footprints, or...anything, really. Not even the sound of a woodpecker remained.

Heath had to admit that that stung, but he could see Lora’s perspective; she had every right to be mad at him for being away. He felt his body going numb. When the love of your life is not with you, what’s the next place to check?

Home! Of course; he should have gone home first. It would be much shorter than he’d already come, and he’d better get going right away. Lora probably expected him to come home to her first after being away for so long. Even though they do it every year, if she hadn’t seen or heard from him, how could she have possibly known that he would still come? A small part of Heath wished that she had had more faith in him, in their love, in what they’d built together, but he loved her, and he knew she still loved him, but they needed to see each other.

He walked the familiar path to their home. It still seemed that no one else was out, but he could be wrong; he had realized at their special place that he was too light to break through the surface of the fresh snow.

Home was in sight. Heath was more than ready to make it up to her for his departure—she would let him in, then he would sweep her off her feet, and they would dance and dance and…

Whose car was in the driveway?

You know what? Not important right now. Health had a soulmate to come home to.

Lora, Lora, Lora! He pounded on the door.

Again, and again, and again.

Okay, maybe she was asleep? Or ignoring him, but no: she would never.

Heath took a breath. He looked arou—Jesus! Who the hell was that?!

An elderly woman stared out the window, directly next to the front door. She was in a wheelchair. Behind her, a young woman cleaned up the room and tended to the hearth. Did...did Lora move without telling him? Was she leaving him?

Heath gave an awkward wave to the old woman inside. She didn’t wave back—in fact, she didn’t move at all; it was like she saw right through him. 

But her eyes! Oh, God, Heath would know those eyes anywhere. The brown eyes that he fell in love with...what the hell happened that he left for so long and didn’t even realize? What was wrong with him?

Lora, Lora, Lora! He knocked on the glass. Nothing from her, but the young woman brushed off her hands and put a hand on Lora’s shoulder.

What are you thinking about, Mrs. Lewis? Heath heard—well, watched, mostly—the young woman ask Lora. Wait.

It happened around this time of year, didn’t it? The young woman’s pity-tinted question caused Lora’s eyes to well up. Sorry, Mrs. Lewis, let’s get you some tea.

She wheeled Lora away, towards the kitchen. Heath had heard what she asked Lora, but what was she really asking? Why were they ignoring him?

Oh! he felt so cold. You know what? It was his damn house, too. Heath was going inside to figure out what the hell was happening.

Huh. He had never done that before. Was it a trick of the light? No; he tried, again and again and again, with the same result: his hand slipped right through the doorknob each time.

Heath stumbled off the porch and onto the snow—the damned snow on which he left no footprints. 

How could he ignore everything up until now?! He was invisible, unheard, didn’t leave a trace, he—he—

The memories shattered his mind into infinite pieces! There was too much; much too much, and all of the things he’d thought Lora would tell him were stuffed into his mind all at once instead and God oh God it hurts it burns it rips it tears—

And then he remembered. He looked around. He took a deep breath (that he didn’t actually need).

Turns out, Heath Lewis knew the answer to an age-old question: if a tree has fallen in the woods and no one is around to hear it, then yes, the damned thing still fell; it fell, and it left Lora Lewis a paralyzed widow for the rest of her life.

This wasn’t their wedding anniversary. This was the anniversary of the day where Lora lost everything.

She lost her ability to work, and she would never know her husband was still here.

Well, not here here. There was no trace; not even a single footprint in fresh snow. But Heath fell; he fought to be allowed to check in on Lora, and even went through with it after being told that it would be pure torture and that he would only see her once a year. Of course Heath took the deal in a heartbeat; he would never go anywhere without her.

Every year, he glides over the snow to his love, and every year, his heart ached as he thinks he’s being ignored, and every year, the memories of his death and everything after are stuffed back into him.

And, Heath suspects, taken away again before he’s ready.

It’s ending so fast; he barely saw her, and she’s helpless and hurting like the past thirty years, and already he’s being torn out of time. She’s living, but in her condition, it’s just existing, and maybe at this time, he and her are just as alike as when they were both alive. But he’s been ripped away, and everything is Light. Or Dark; it’s hard for him to tell anymore...

Where. Where is he? What was he doing?

Fresh snow has fallen and these woods are familiar.

Oh. That’s right: going home.

For the first time in a long, long time, Heath was on his way to see Lora.