THE EDGE had and has always been my safe place.
It was a spectacular cliff overseeing the vast, picturesque forest starting from under its foot. The Edge was located in an idyllic location right above the forest; therefore, always promised a brilliant view and a great spot for reflection.
On most nights, the forest underneath was illuminated by the moon. It always looked captivating when I saw just how bright and white it was in contrast to the dark sky behind it.
Who was I if I wasn't just another hopeless romantic for the sky?
There was some sort of comfort that I found in the routine and familiarity that stargazing brought. That familiarity was what helped me feel safe when the whole world turned on us.
When I was younger, my grandfather would sit me on his left knee and we would stare up at the dark sky. He was the one who helped me develop my love for the moon and stars.
Back then, it was hard for me to see the stars; my eyes not being able to focus through the tears. Despite that, I remember wiping them away just so I could focus on something greater than myself.
My grandfather would tell me this story about the moon that never failed to make me feel happy, understanding the power of promise. He used to say that it was as if the moon had promised the night sky that it would always return. He would tell me the moon would never leave the night and they would always meet again; nobody could tear them apart.
That was simply magical to me; a little story that solidified the power of loyalty and love to me as a young, impressionable little girl.
It was at a young age that I developed a love for silence and observation. I loved how the darkness of the night can envelop the world in silence... never once missing because right at 11, in our small hillside neighbourhood, all the house lights would be closed, dimmed to a minimum. I knew that even my Aunt Marie would be fast asleep by 11:15 with her lights out by 11. There would be no use to try to reach her after then, nor did we try to.
Living by the rural side of the country for my whole life allowed me to realize that the night sky was always crystal clear to me, but outside, there was a world that was condemned to a sky without the stars. In our small town, no star was blanketed by the lies of light pollution, and it was truly a blessing.
Appreciating the sky started with my grandparents and I having dinner beneath the stars. My grandmother would light up lanterns that my grandfather would hang around the trees. In the middle of The Edge, there was an open flat-surfaced clearing where we would set up a large blue picnic blanket with our dinner as we counted the endless stars above. It formed when my grandfather would point out stars and it extended to when I started reading into it more, fascinated by the twinkles I saw in the darkness.
Now, I knew every constellation in the sky even after the days of those picnics were long gone with only me returning to The Edge every night.
As part of my routine, I was planning on heading right back out with my binoculars to gaze at the stars. I was particularly excited because today was supposed to be a full moon; I had been waiting for this day all month.
I took my blanket and unfurled it in the air before laying it flat on the grass. I smoothed out the edges, noticing that the wind was trying to pick up the blanket and carry it away. To give the blanket more weight I put down my lantern. Just as I did that, the wind died down and I noticed a flock of birds fly well above my head and into the horizon towards the forest.
I eyed my setup one more time and I felt giddy all over again.
I was so happy I invested in getting a better camera so I could take better pictures. My previous camera failed to capture the beauty of the moon; the light being too much for it to bear which often produced very bright or dark images.
I ran inside and found my grandfather inside the kitchen, his flannel-covered back facing me as he stirred something in the pot over the stove. I walk over to him and peer over his shoulders and into the pot to see him making my favourite food.
"Pasta with homemade sauce? That's exactly what I like to see," I grinned as I inhaled the delicious aroma.
"Yes, yes, you got to wait a few more minutes so that I can add the basil. Go wash your hands and set the table while I finish up," he chuckles when he sees my impatient expression.
I rolled my eyes and quickly washed my hands by the kitchen sink. I grab the plates and utensils from the cupboards and drawer and then set them on the table where we usually sit. Like always at our round wooden table surrounded by 4 chairs, I would sit on the side against the wall with my grandfather beside me. Occasionally when my aunt would come over, she would sit beside my grandfather facing me.
"Also!" My grandfather said as he briefly turned around to face me, "tomorrow I'm heading out to your Aunt Marie's. Someone finally bought the Dawson's house and they're moving in. So, me and some of the men are going to help them move in," my grandfather says as he continues to stir the pot with the tomato sauce. "You know... as tradition."
I nodded at him carefully while I watched him then mix the pasta with the sauce in the pot. He looks over at me as he continues to mix the sauce with the pasta.
When he sees my impatient eyes he chuckles.
"We have your grandmother to thank for this recipe. I added some garlic to the sauce just like she would," he says fondly. "Also I used Marie's fresh tomatoes that she dropped off earlier"
"She always had the best Italian food recipes," I agreed, referring to my grandmother's pasta sauce recipe. An image of my sweet grandmother pops up in my mind and I smile sadly. I truly loved her. She was an amazing, strong woman. She was energetic and extroverted in the very best way and she was quite the opposite of my grandfather who was often put together and sturdy while she was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. They both complimented each other so well, she had always been such a motherly figure in my life.
She also took great care of me while she was around, making sure I never missed those who were not around.
"Remember when she burnt the turkey on Thanksgiving and it started a fire! She accidentally used the fire extinguisher on you and completely missed the turkey," I guffawed as the memory replayed in my mind while I talked. With that, my grandfather starts loudly laughing along with me. The memory was still fresh in our minds and it was still absolutely hilarious. Just 3 years ago, my grandmother was still an active member of our life. I remember her getting mad at my grandfather for getting in the way of the extinguisher even though he wasn't even close.
"Oh, Revina was always unintentionally clumsy. From that day on I swore to become vegetarian because I'm telling you that what I ate that day was not edible" My grandfather shuddered before chuckling deeply.
I laughed because I remember my grandmother forcing my grandfather to eat the turkey even though it was burnt. He protested and called my grandmother crazy but she didn't back down, insisting that he eat it because apparently, it was just a little 'overcooked'. He wasn't kidding though because he seriously went vegetarian after that. It was for his heart, but he'd never admit it.
I didn't even notice he was done with the pasta until he put the delicious pot of food in the center of the table with a serving spork. I quickly grabbed my plate and served myself a helping, sheepishly smiling at my grandfather when I saw him quirk a brow at my quick motions. I quickly checked outside to see if the moon was out because I wanted to get out as fast as I could.
I finished dinner after 2 bowls of pasta and amused glances from my grandfather.
"Gosh slow down, Layla! It's not like the moon is anywhere, you have the whole night to take pictures and gaze," he chuckled as he stuffed a fork of pasta in his mouth. I rolled my eyes before smiling at him.
"Yeah, but I want to take pictures right when the stars are at their brightest," I replied giving him a look. I take another look at my grandfather who continued to eat but slower. I rushed into my room, trying to ignore the horrific mess that it was, and grabbed my binoculars off the dresser, almost accidentally knocking my lamp off.
I close the door behind me and head towards the dining room where we had the backyard door.
Our house was a relatively small one-story house. Therefore, our kitchen, dining room, and backyard door were all in the same area. Despite the mismatched furniture, worn out drapes, scratches on the wooden floors and doors, there was a charm to our home. The furniture was all thrifted and antique and the house carried almost 50ish years of memories from when my mom was merely a kid
Love still reflected off the wallpaper that we could thank my grandmother for; she had always been into making our house look its best despite the situation we lived in. She would always say that we had to keep our heads up to let them know they didn't affect us. According to her, that started with keeping our house looking maintained. My grandfather and I continued her legacy, making sure the house was always in good shape.
For the most part.
I was about to head out so I could make the 2-minute walk to The Edge which from our house, was hidden behind a wall of large tall trees. It was a relatively short trek that only required getting through masses of thick branches and bushes since the trees were thick, tall, and closely grown together as if trying to protect the location.
I passed by my grandfather who silently continued to chew at his food. I noticed that he was still on his first serving. For his health, he was required to chew excessively and take smaller servings and with everything that happened to us, I had promised to never make him feel alone no matter what.
I grabbed my camera and sat back down on my chair at the dining table in front of him. I started to shuffle through the pictures I had taken yesterday in the forest. Everything can wait.
I saw my grandfather look up from his plate with slight surprise and a small smile on his face.
Small things are what matter the most.
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My grandfather was safely in the comfort of his bedroom, probably reading a few pages of Moby Dick before falling into slumber. I never knew why he read because he had always claimed that reading was boring and that he found no enjoyment in reading words on paper without illustration. I believe that itself was the reason he read; to bore himself to sleep.
That's Thomas Fraser, ladies and gentlemen.
It was only after knowing he was content and safe that I decided to permit myself to go out for the evening.
I rushed out the backdoor with my camera and binoculars and closed it behind me softly making sure not to rattle the door too much so much that it would fall off its hinges.
Gramps was yet to fix that.
I could hear the faint sounds of crickets and the warm summer air flowing through my dark brown hair and causing goosebumps to form at the nape of my neck. I made my way through the wall of trees, moving those branches out of my way so that it wouldn't hit me, my beloved binoculars or camera. The leaves crunched from underneath me and I welcomed the brisk scent of fresh pine to relax my senses.
When I got to the clearing, I looked up and ahead right over to the edge of the cliff, wanting to see the full moon in all its glory. But, that's when I froze.
The thing is that The Edge had always been my haven. Mine. In all my years after my grandparents had discovered the place and after they had stopped visiting, never once have I ever encountered anyone else here; at least not at this time. It had always been me, the sky, the ground, and the melody of lone crickets in the night. I never had to share it.
I didn't want to share it.
I stood there gawking at the silhouette of the boy sitting by the very edge of the cliff, his long legs dangling over the edge. He was undoubtfully lean and muscular and had hair the colour of dark chocolate as illuminated by the full moon. I also noticed the basketball tucked between his right arm and his hip, secured tightly so it wouldn't slip.
He was hunched over as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. His white sweater was draped over his back, being worn in a way I had never seen before with the sleeves tied around his neck.
I look up from studying the back of his figure and up to the moon that stood right above him as if it was a halo.
I am shocked and pissed beyond belief.
There was someone at my spot.
I looked over at the blanket that I had laid down earlier and checked if anything was stolen or moved and I realized that my lantern was moved. It was closer to the edge of the blanket where I had not left it.
Did this guy seriously touch my things!?
Why was he here? Why? Nobody ever came to this place.
I shakily exhaled as my eyes darted from his body to my blanket. I tuck some loose strands of my dark hair behind my ear, feeling my heartbeat inside my chest.
He was yet to notice me which calmed me because I seriously wasn't in the mood to converse with him. For some reason, I had a feeling he wasn't either.
I could feel the sadness radiating off of him and I couldn't stop myself from thinking the wildest of thoughts:
Maybe I should go ask him what's wrong.
Nobody comes to The Edge; and if they somehow manage to, I don't think that it would be by chance. There was no way this guy who looks about my age walked into the forest looking for this place.
I sighed and looked back up at the sky, wanting some sort of guidance on what I should do.
Should I just go back home and leave everything here?
Should I just ignore him and just take my pictures?
Wanting to be brave, I go with the latter. I had never done this before.
I nervously look over at the blanket and slowly make my way over to my light, blue picnic blanket. I curse myself as I accidentally step on a twig and drag my foot into the rubble disrupting the silence around us. I curse hell upon the twig before looking back up.
This was able to catch the stranger's attention as from my peripheral vision I saw him snap his head in my direction. For a second my heart skipped a beat, worried that the boy would fall off the edge with how fast he looked over at me.
He knew I was here.
My first instinct is to run away but I don't. For some reason, I don't feel entirely compelled to run.
My eyes dart to him to make sure he is still okay and I quickly look back down at the blanket and the lighter that I had placed by the lamp. Since it wasn't lit yet, with shaky hands I take the lighter and try to light the candle inside.
The soft flicking becomes part of the collection of sounds around us. I had become hyperaware of my surroundings as I kept my attention on the boy in my peripheral. I watch as he slowly turns back around and faces the moon, his attention no longer on me. I release a breath I didn't even know I was holding, shakily. I look over at him and notice that his mood seems to be lifted slightly as he is no longer hunched over.
That made me feel better. I didn't want his vibes to mess with mine.
I was super excited about the full moon, I wasn't going to let some random dude who probably won't be here tomorrow, ruin the experience for me.
With my lit candle in the lantern, I notice how the blade of grass around it balanced a hue of gold and I feel mesmerized for a second.
Light makes all the difference in a world of darkness.
I shake my wrist for my watch and check the time. Seeing that it was just 11:45 relieved me because I had thought that I had wasted a lot of time cleaning up the house and hesitating to sit down. I still had the whole night at my expense.
By the time I had started taking pictures of the beautiful moon, I had almost forgotten about the guy.
I briefly remembered him standing up from his spot by the edge of the cliff and moving back to the other side of the clearing, someplace obviously safer.
The clearing wasn't huge and maybe there was only a 10-meter distance between us. He sat there with his basketball, softly playing with it and the blades of grass around him while I snapped photos with my camera, impressed at the quality of the pictures I had taken.
He was on his side of the clearing and I was on mine.
The invisible boundary gave me comfort.
As the night progressed, he became nothing but a small unconscious thought in my mind. I had my binoculars pressed close to my eyes watching and observing the patterns on the moon like I always did. I move the binoculars away from my eyes and gaze at the moon in awe. It is when I look at the rest of the sky and air around me that I spot a few fireflies playing around me, a large smile lighting up my face.
I love fireflies. Nature's flying lanterns.
Then, I make the mistake of turning to my right where he was sitting saw him looking at me curiously and something else in his green eyes. I was left in slight shock once again as just like the green blades of grass turning hazel with the light from the lantern, his eyes did the same; reflecting a hazel hue.
It was just then that I realized that green and gold together were such a beautiful colour combination.
Something was compelling about him that I couldn't pinpoint. I still found it surreal that someone had found this cliff; making the place also officially part of another person's memory. Someone who wasn't me or my grandfather.
The sound of crickets brought me to reality as I awkwardly looked away from him to glance back at the moon.
I think back to the boy, I could see sadness lingering in his eyes and it made my heart clench the slightest.
For some reason, I didn't feel endangered by him, it felt as if we were sharing the night and this spot and I didn't feel as territorially protective as I did before. I didn't feel anything but warmth and a pinch of sadness.
Maybe if it was someone else I would have been more upset.
I looked back at him and saw that he was no longer looking at me, he was sitting cross-legged with his basketball on his lap as he gazed into the sky. His sweater was still draped across his back with the sleeves coming over his shoulders and tied around his neck loosely. He was truly strange. I had never seen anyone wear a sweater like that.
Maybe it was something in the air or something but I opened my mouth and almost made the mistake of talking. That was until he interrupted.
"You alright?" He questions. I'm momentarily stunned by the fact that he was actually talking and that he was talking to me.
I felt betrayed for a second because it was as if his voice had broken something that we had an unspoken rule about:
No talking.
His voice was deep, husky, and a bit raspy, and I couldn't help but look up at him with big eyes, but he wasn't even looking at me.
"Yea."
"That's good," he says to the sky after a second of reflection. I don't know what answer he expected from me. I continued to look at him, studying him but the lack of light did nothing to help me uncover the mystery. "Are you seriously though?" he then asks softly and I hear a slight shuffle, the sound of grass, and I look back to see he is no longer cross-legged and rather he was lying on the soft grass with his front towards the moon and back towards the Earth.
I wish I could capture the moment with my camera because he looked so angelic. His face was perfectly illuminated by the moon and I became starkly aware of how insanely attractive he was.
Clear, tanned skin, and a side angle that I was viciously envious of.
I ponder on his question for a moment. I gaze up at the moon, fascinated by the thought that we are both looking at the same moon, but with different desires, motives and thoughts.
So I thought about it.
I had nothing to lose.
He was a stranger and I was a local. He was probably staying at a motel somewhere nearby, his bags probably packed to leave the next morning.
He wouldn't be here tomorrow so I decided that there was no harm in finally being able to breathe and vent my suppressed thoughts.
"I don't know if I really am, or if I'm just pretending," I say truthfully feeling unburdened as I let out my pent-up feelings. It was vague but it had been the most I had communicated to anyone who wasn't my grandfather or aunt. Someone who was considered a stranger.
My hand pulled and twisted at the blade of grass underneath my palm nervous about the consequences of opening my mouth. It was about him now; how he would choose to respond.
He looks at me briefly with a sad smile before looking away in respect for my vulnerability.
Oh.
"Yea, I feel you. Things are just happening so fast that I feel like I just can't keep up. I feel like I don't know anyone anymore. Heck, I feel like I don't even know myself anymore."
I knew I was nothing like him and he was nothing like me but for some reason, his words hit home. I take a sharp intake of breath, dumbfounded by his words and how he managed to speak his mind. I peer back at him, looking at him in a different light.
How does he look different every time I look at him?
"Life becomes at you fast with a curve ball just as when you think you got a handle on things," he says lowly before shuffling the ball in his lap. I feel myself begin to nod.
"I didn't mean to intrude on you tonight. I didn't know anyone even came here. I decided to get away from home for a bit and I stumbled across this cliff," he admits truthfully as if knowing I was wondering about how he got here. I could feel the slight guilt in his voice. "If you want to be alone I can leave," He says looking back at me. My breath hitches as I stare back into his hazel-tinted eyes.
Deep inside, I felt bad for the dude. I saw myself in him. I knew what it felt like to feel as if you had no safe space.
If he wanted to stay, who was I to stop him?
I look away at him and look down at my lantern on my left. I could feel his eyes on me as I spoke.
"I don't mind. I understand wanting to have an escape, so feel free to stay for as long as you need to be," I say timidly. I look back at him and see him give me a brilliant smile.
He had a nice smile.
"Thanks."
"Don't mention it."
The silence that came afterward spoke volumes and I just exhaled slowly, not wanting to gain his attention.
"Uh- also I moved your lantern earlier, it was only because your spread was going to fly away so I moved it so that it wouldn't," He pitches in. I look over at him and nod my head, showing him I understand. Well, that did make sense but little did he know I had internally freaked out when I first suspected he had touched my stuff.
"Well, thanks."
"No problem," he glanced over at me before standing up abruptly. He looks up into the sky and catches my bewildered expression and looks down at me with amusement.
He looks like an entirely different person with a smile.
"I got to head home now, I didn't tell that I was leaving the house," He chuckled awkwardly before rubbing a hand behind his neck. I nod slowly not knowing what else to say. The world around us started to slowly come back into motion as I had realized what our realities were. Bitterness came back to me. I was still me and he was still him.
A random guy.
"See you around?" he looks at me with a slight smirk before turning on his heel and walking into the thick bushes.
When he left, the atmosphere had returned covering up his tracks. It was like he wasn't ever here.
The only trace of him being my racing heart.
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Hi! Thank you so much for checking out my story! This is a re-write of my original story which I took down because I wanted to add more context and develop the characters more. I wanted the timeline to also make more sense.
If you see any typos, or plot holes or anything do not hesitate to point it out!
Tyyy and happy reading <3