Day Two hundred and fifty one - Fjara

From where I live to where I'm going is about a two hour drive, maybe a little bit more. There's music playing in the car's stereo, but I pay no attention to it. My mind is elsewhere. Focused. I drive almost absent mindedly, though I am well aware of what's happening on the road. This is the home stretch, I feel, just like saying goodbye to an old friend. 'What else is there?', sings the girl on the radio. Not much, to be honest. There's no time to be anything more after this. The warning shots, the final calls, the curtain falls - they've all evaporated. It's almost time. It's almost no time. The car glides down the road, the song's over. I press a button on the stereo, and it plays again. 'It was me on that road, but you couldn't see me', she sang. We can't see each other anymore. We won't. I feel myself falling into a deep chasm, thinking about things long gone. I'm close now, so close.

I arrive at the beach, and park the car still some way away. That's good, the walk down to the beach will feel good. For the moment, I stay inside. I turn off the heating, so I can start feeling the cold. It's cold outside, and it's going to get colder very soon. My hand reaches out to my pocket, and takes out my phone. Going through my contacts, I rifle down to 'T', where I find your name. That god damned temptation again. To hear your voice again. To feel near you. Throughout all these years, you've never changed your profile picture. You always loved it, and so did I. I took that picture of you when things were still good. It's twinned to another we took seconds later, of us kissing in the same spot. It's the only picture of us I kept. And of course I have to look at it now. Ah Jesus, look at the state of us. We were so happy.

I get out of the car, and slam the door shut. It is cold. I start my slow walk towards the shore now, bracing myself for the biting cold. I close my jacket, and put on my gloves. I feel the chill in my bones nevertheless. It's about twenty minutes until I reach the beach proper, and at once I feel the crunch of the black sand beneath my feet. It reminds me of that walk we went on the heath, late one fall, when I proposed to you for the first time. You walked some steps ahead of me, your hands snug inside your jacket pockets. I knelt, and asked you to turn around. I knew, even before I saw your face, what your answer would be. '"I don't belong here", said old Tessa out loud'. I wouldn't see you again for a few months after that. But you always came back. You were the fury in my bed. You were the fury in my head. It's a pattern we created, it's a loop we wanted. Fury. Leaving. Coming back. Fury. 'Then you said the emotions are dead, it's no wonder you feel so estranged'. You left, you came back, I always welcomed you. I always wanted you. Damn me all to hell, I always will.

It's getting late, and as the last rays of sun ebb away from the sky, I sit down on the black sand. It's a moment of peace, a moment of clarity. 'Now I only think about Los Angeles when the sound kicks out'. Do you remember L.A., love? When we went there for your birthday and then we got married? That didn't last. That was our curse, we could never make it last for more than a tiny, furious moment at a time. Time. Time is still. Time stands still. Look, look, as the northern lights dance across the midnight sky. Can you see us, spread across time? Us, suspended in time, star-crossed souls slow dancing. Look, at us, in the distant past and in the far-flung future, together or alone, together and alone, alone together, looking at the Pleiades. Can you feel my heart beating? Do you hear that sound?