Love and the Sea and Everything in Between

chapter twenty-three

On Saturday afternoon my parents text me that one of my cousins invited us to a wedding in Lake Tahoe so I drive to San Jose to meet them and then we head out to the lake.

The mountain road is rough and aimless as Gus works overtime to bring me higher. My parents are a few cars ahead and as the sun sets I find myself lost in the glow.

When there's space on the side of the road, I pull over and send a quick text to Mom.

Me: I'll catch up with you. Making a pit stop.

Her: OK.

So I get out of the van and, after locking it, I start to climb the mountainside until I come to a small, flat cliff and I lie down and stare up at the sky, surrounded by dirt and rock and trees.

The sky is a mix of blue and orange and yellow and red and white and it all just mingles perfectly, like colors of a painting joined together to create a masterpiece.

Tonight, the atmosphere is a masterpiece to behold and I feel lucky that I get behold it. It's funny; when you've experienced such brilliant life, the colors all seem brighter, more brilliant. Now, it seems, I stand in the afterglow of that experience and I can't help but wonder when it will fade.

Long after the sun has gone, I'm here and I watch the elegy of the stars above as waves of orange light ripple across the sky. The dirt and stone grinds itself against my back, but I don't move. Amid the dreary night, unpolluted by synthetic light, the stars are remarkable.

I breathe the mountain air and feel it purge my soul. There's something pure about the air up hear. It feels untouched by malicious humanity.

I feel angry, suddenly. I'm angry that humanity feels the need to pollute such pure existence. Wars and technology and greed and selfishness and anger and hate, all seeping into every facet of human existence, shattering the purity of life.

Men kill each other in wars over and over, never learning from history that wars solve nothing. Corporations destroy forests and flood seas with their liquid gold. People look out for themselves and no one else; the do what makes themselves happy, never taking other peoples' happiness into account.

The world has become survival of the fittest, but what will it matter if there is no planet for the survivors? What will happen when there's no one left to give the last survivor a reason to survive?

This is why life has to be more than just survival: because when we spend our entire lives trying to just survive, we don't know how to do anything else. We don't know how to live.

There has to be more than just survival. There has to be. – or else it isn't worth it.

I think of Liz. I thought I'd found my life in her. I thought I'd learned how to live and not just survive. What am I supposed to do now?

I decide to text her. I can't think of anything else. I'm not done with her yet and I hope she isn't done with me yet.

Me: Liz, please. Talk to me. What's going on?

I wait a few minutes, each second bringing its own disappointments. The worst is the waiting, the not knowing, the anxiety, the anticipation of what might happen.

Finally, my phone vibrates and I see her text.

Her: I just need some time, Adam. Please. Just give me some time.

I don't know how I feel. I don't know what to feel. I can't even feel closure because she makes it seem like there's more to come.

More of what, though?