The abandoned railway line that we had been walking on, the tracks long gone and lush green overgrowth filling in the gaps, widen into a clearing at the end of which was a tunnel built of stone that emerged from the undergrowth.
“Jesus Christ,” Lill said “What is that?” Her tone was tight, fearful even.
“It’s an old railway tunnel,” I said matter of factly and gesturing obviously to the path behind us.
“You don’t expect me to go in there, do you?”
“I thought you, of all people Wednesday Adaams, would love this place.”
She glared at me. That stare, meant to deter me, did nothing but make me want to do something to make her glare at me again. Those lips in that pout…
“It looks like a gaping void of hell.”
“You should love it then,” I teased, unable to stop myself, then musing, said, “I think it looks romantic.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Oh, come on,” I said, “it’ll be a great little adventure.” I put my hands on her shoulders and gave her a little squeeze, pulled her close to me, and nuzzled my face in her neck. Her dark hair smelt clean and fresh, just like the lush wood surrounding us.
A moan escaped those pouty lips, and I encouraged it by adding “A very hidden and private adventure.”
I had been coming here since I was a kid, and my intention of showing her my name carved into the stone wall, my masterpiece when I was 10, was quickly morphing into something decidedly more adult.
“We’ll be murdered,” she whispered.
“No we won’t,” I whispered back.
Since when did anything macabre, deter her?
“You ok?” I said, pulling away, suddenly serious.
“I am,” she said, and I saw many more words flash behind her eyes, that she was not saying.
“It’s not that long, once we are inside, you can see the light at the end of the tunnel,” I tried to be reassuring. “I’ve been coming here for years, it’s safe, I promise.”
Her shoulders relaxed. I wasn’t sure what spooked her, but being able to comfort her, puffed my chest more than it should.
I thought that it was an enchating place - the way that green forest sprouted out around it, threatening to swallow it. It made me think of life, and growth and renewal. Not murder! I guess, the fact that she thought that was one of the things that drew me to her. Opposites attract.
“Come on,” I said “I’ll protect you.”
Those seemed to be the magic words, because her face softened even further, and wait, were those tears in her eyes?
“Well, let’s not delay the inevitable,” she deadpanned and held her hand out to me. I laced my fingers through hers and pulled her close, wrapping my arm around her shoulders, tucking her safely into the side of my body, and like that, we walked towards the tunnel. 
The wind off the ocean was rolling and picking up speed. Dark clouds in the distance were fast approaching.
Ren was telling me that he wanted to spend more time with me out and about, ‘doing things,’ social things, blah blah blah. It was the same argueent over and over, and I stopped listening minutes ago: he thought I was too introverted, and I thought he was too focused on others - disconnected from himself. There was no middle ground when every date turned into a battle of wills - mine quiet, his loud.
Whatever this was, this “walk” that was supposed to help repair our relationship, was doing nothing put pushing us further apart. If the weather was indicating what to come, we were in trouble. I kicked the toe of my boot into the moist dirt of the footpath and watched it lift, and get carried over the edge of the cliff by the wind. I did it again.
“This is what I’m talking about Millie, this,” he gestured erratically to me. “You are so withdrawn, living inside your head, thinking ‘who knows what,’ but obviously it’s something big enough to make you pull away.”
Withdrawn? I’ve actually never been more connected, thank you very much, the problem was I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. This man could talk the leg off a table. Sure, I lived in my head but at least when I opened my mouth it carried some sort of substance.
I huffed out a sardonic laugh, “we’re just one beggar telling another beggar where to find bread.”
He tossed his head back in frustration, “What?”
I took a step towards him, the wind now at my back, pushing me, encouraging me onward. “You think you have all the answers. You think that for anyone to figure this” - I waved my hands in a gesture that was meant to indicate ‘life’ - “out, they have to be just like you. Except you are so busy getting involved in everyone else’s business, you haven’t taken the time to look within yourself.”
“That’s not —,” he started, but I cut him off for once.
“It is, Ren. It is true. None of us have life figured out, including you. We both want love, we both are hungry, starving beggars, telling each other where to find bread, but neither of us are going to eat it. We aren’t helping each other Ren. We are actually hurting each other. Stalling each other. Spending more time trying to figure the other out, without figuring ourselves out.”
“Millie —,”
“Stop. This is my turn to speak. This is my life, and my choices. I need space from you so I can figure out what I want. Me,” I slapped a hand to my chest for emphasis.
He slumped. He had to have known this was coming. Things hadn’t been great between us for weeks, and I was done pretending it was.
“Mill,” his tone was exacerbated, “This is what I’ve been trying to tell you. You don’t need to people please all the time. I just want to do it together.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not.”
“Because the second I’m with you I start taking care of you and I don’t know how to stop.”
“I’ll help you.”
“I don’t want help.” I was starting to feel cornered. And when I feel cornered, I can’t trust. And when I can’t trust I start to think people’s motivation is to hurt me. And around and around we go.
“Mill,” he pleaded.
“I’m done. I’m taking care of myself from here on out, alone, you need to take care of yourself. Alone.”
I turned and walked away, surprised that it wasn’t sadness and loss that I was feeling but strength, determination and finally, a sense of freedom.
I left him standing there, holding the baggage he carried, but couldn’t see.
The space between stars is best described as nothing.
The same nothing as the distance between the tree just outside your window and the blue sky beyond.
The same nothing as the the rainbow you chase as a child - sure of it’s colourful existence but never able to catch it.
The same nothing as the thought that goes into planning a meal. The unseen conception that only becomes created when it’s you who creates it.
The same nothing as the presence you feel of loved ones, after their death. Irrepairably gone from this realm, but somehow still there. In your bones, you can feel them.
Stand outside, at night, with the cold air on your skin, and look up into the sky. The space between the stars is nothing, except what you - standing there - ponder into seeing.
“It sounds like it smells,” I sign, then wave my hands around as if to stir up the fall scents around us.
“Explain,” Tara signs with a smile.
“You know in the morning, when the air starts to feel crisper. Like, hmmm, like there is a sharpness to the air. And it smells a little damp, but not hot damp, cool damp?”
“Yeah…” she signs slowly, skeptically.
“Well it sounds like that.” Pausing, grab a fallen yellow leaf from the ground. “Hold this,” I sign as I pass it to her.
“Feel how it’s not soft like it would be when it’s on the tree and green? Now smell it. It smells like dirt or soil, but not as much like a leaf?”
Tara nods, turning the leaf over in her hand.
“And it’s crispy,” I continue, “now you’re going to squeeze it and when you do, feel how it srunches and snaps.” I instruct.
“Now times that by all these leaves,” I sign, referring to the covered ground, “and that is what it sounds like. Crisp, just like the fall air.”
She closes her fingers around the leaf, feeling it crunch on her fingertips. She lifts her eyes to me, bright with understanding, and smiles.
The candle glow was warm, and cast a glow that reminded me of butter. The leaves closest to my candle brightened, but not enough to discern their color. Nevertheless, their vibrancy was highlighted.
The glow cast a spherical light. The thick milky darkness of the night beyond. Over head, the stars were peeking through, beginning to sparkle.
It’s not that it was simply dark and bright. There were shades. The sky was lighter on the horizon. The last remnants of the hot august sun reflecting up from the curve of the earth. Night was being rolled out like a red carpet - an honour and respect i could understand.
August was a super moon. And there it was, riding over the silhouetted trees in the distance, standing like an honour guard.
The size of the moon seemed comical it was so big. Like the earth may be swallowed by a ball of Swiss cheese.
I blew out my candle then. Snuffing out the comforting light in favour of the more wild moonlight and dark of this lookout.
Em, Seems like you’ve been gone forever! How has your summer been? When my mom found my report card (my backpack is NOT a great hiding place) she registered me in summer school. So that’s what I’ve been doing for the last few weeks. Super boring. How’s the lake? It’s kinda fun to write snail mail back and forth.
Sam
Sam! Your letter arrived! Obviously, because I’m writing back! Look at us, existing without the internet! I was hoping for more of an update from city life besides school Em. How is Nate? Still your crush? And your sister - how are her treatments? Life here is pretty tame. I sleep in, help get food ready for the day, then we go to the beach. There are other “summer kids” here too, so we hang. Stare at guys. None of us have enough courage to talk to them though. Neither do they, I guess. We just circle each other like vultures, pretending no one notices. Maybe one day… Em
Emily Margaret Neufeld. I did not stay in the city to go to summer school and be the “good” big sister while Sara goes through cancer treatment to hear that you are just staring at hot guys on the beach. You get out there and do something crazy for the both of us. I need some excitement in my life. You are my only hope. Nate is away for the summer, just like you. Sara is OK. She’s better than my parents believe it or not. They are trying to control everything I do…I’m probably the easiest thing to control in our lives right now, so I’m rolling with it. I wish I was there with you though. Go get ‘em haha. Sam
Sam, Aw hun, I’m so sorry your summer is the summer of cancer and control. You are a good big sis. I’m sure they all appreciate you being there. I took your advice and talked to one of the cute guys on the beach. We are going to the ice cream shop this afternoon! What should I wear?! Wish you were here,
Em
Em, I can’t wait to hear about your ice cream date. I’m happy for you, and in no way does the rest of this letter mean that I don’t want to hear more about it…but I have to tell you that sara’s been admitted to the hospital. Something about an infection. I’m not sure - my parents seem overwhelmed so I haven’t asked much. I can’t stop crying. I’m scared. I wish you were here. I feel myself withdrawing, as I do when I’m stressed. It’s all just too much. —-> tear stain
Sam
Sam, Oh no! This snail mail thing is now causing me anxiety. I don’t want to wait for updates from you. I’m sure there’s so much you need to say and I feel so far away. Write more when you can.
Em
Sam, Haven’t heard from you in a while. I hope Sara is Ok and so is your family. Write when you get a chance
Em
Sam? Are you ok? Now I’m really worried. I asked my mom if I can drive home for the weekend. I’m worried. I want to support you. My mom will drive me. See you soon.
Love Em.
Em,
Thank you. See you soon. I love you.
Sam
“Like this,” the woman snapped, shaking a picture she had torn out of a magazine. “I want it like this! I don’t know why you are arguing with me.”
I took a deep breath. We had been talking in circles for 5 minutes: I want my hair like this - but that’s curly hair - if mine were shorter it would be more curly - that’s not the way it works - but I like the style - but it won’t look like that.
We went on an on until both of us wanted to pull out our own hair at each others.
“I’m not arguing with you,” I said, as though I were trying to calm a wild animal. “It’s just that I think if we do that style you will end up being disappointed with how it looks.”
“Well, you are the hairdresser, make it look like this!” Angrily poking the picture with her index finger.
“I can’t change straight hair to curly hair, and that style looks the way it does because that woman has curly hair!”
“Fine,” she said resolutely, stuffing the picture back in her bag, “I’ll take a perm too.”
“A perm?!” I said, huffing a startled laugh, “Oh, Okay. Well, I don’t have time to do a perm today. You were only booked for a 50 minutes times slot, so how about I book you back so we can do the perm and a cut?”
“You expect me to come back? I’m here now and I don’t have all the time in the world,” she said.
“As if I do?” I snapped, before I could censor myself. I had a moment of remorse, before realizing that it actually felt good to stand up for myself for a change. I was a new hair stylist in the city, and thought I should take any client I could get…but not clients like this. As far as clients go, I could do better.
“You know what?” she said, scowling, “I could do better. Hairdressers in this city are a dime a dozen, I don’t need this.”
“No, you don’t,” I replied peacefully, “And neither do I.”
I calmly walked to the door of the salon and opend it. A cool breeze rushed in, bringing with it a sense of refreshment. I stood a little taller and relaxed my shoulders. “I hope you find what you are looking for, but I’m not it.” I waved my hand in the direction of the door, urging her to go.
“This is how you treat clients?” she asked, snarkily, as she stormed by.
“No,” I said, “This is how I treat myself.”
This is the way sunlight feels as it glimmers through the leaves, This is the way air feels as it breezes through the blades of grass, This is the way an ant feels as it crawls over my leg, This is the way the clouds feel as they float in the sky, The way the ocean must feel as it waves. Effortless Connected I drift off, dizzy with sleep. Absorbing and absorbed, By sleep, by nature. My mind dreams. A bird soaring on the currents of the wind.
