Fading Away

Ty McPherson

It was her smile that he would never forget. He sighed as he watched her sitting on the edge of the
large, lily pad, his hands tight balls in the pockets of his jeans, boot cut, a dark wash above brown hiking
boots with orange trim. The sky overhead reflected his mood, melancholy grey clouds and thick smog
that choked the city, made it difficult to see the building across the street, let alone further down the
main drag. Perhaps the sky didn't reflect his mood though, but rather he reflected it, just another
passionless prole going through the motions. He knew the city had poisoned him, it poisoned everyone,
but maybe that poison wasn't something so obvious and mundane, like cancer. Maybe it was subtle,
insidious. Maybe before it killed your body, it killed your soul.
He started to walk forward, toward her, toward the pool of water she sat in. "You could have told me,"
he said, wincing at the unintended bitterness in his own voice, feeling the pain more sharply than she
likely did. Spite would get him nowhere and it's not like she was the one to blame. No one was to blame,
it was just the way of things.
She turned and looked over her shoulder, her black hair wet, made darker by the water, and hanging
heavily down her back and across one shoulder, some errant strands stuck to her face. She was as
beautiful now as when they had first met, her eyes the pale grey of the sky overhead, yet somehow
vibrant, like a brewing storm. There was more life, more energy, in those eyes that any four city blocks
combined. "Would it have mattered?" she replied with a smile, reassuring yet resigned. Her voice was
cheerful, bubbly even, in spite of everything.
"I guess it wouldn't, no," he sighed, reaching the pool and sitting down on the cement edge. She
continued to stare at him, smiling more with her eyes than her mouth, a look of 'hey, cheer up' on her
face. He couldn't bring himself to look back to her, instead absent mindedly kicking at a few pebbles on
the hard ground, scuffing his shoes, scraping stone against stone.
He heard a splash and knew she had left the lily pad, gone back under the water. She could pop up
anywhere now: the pool was large, covering most of the building's roof, and she was fast. But he knew
exactly where she would resurface and braced himself. He used to look forward to this next part so
strongly, but now it created a hard lump his throat, a bitter, foul thing he wanted nothing to do with.
He smiled despite himself when he heard her rise out of the water behind him. She wrapped her arms
around his waist and he could feel her chest press against his back, her cheek against his shoulder blade,
and she squeezed, letting out a happy, little sound, the one she always made. It was neither a warm nor
cold day and he didn't mind the slightly cool sensation of the water as she soaked his shirt through with
her hug. "You said you wouldn't come back today," she whispered as she held him, "but I'm glad you
did."
Those were the words that broke his calm, that caused him to double over, tears spilling down his
cheeks in silent sorrow, his face buried in his hands. He felt her cool hands stroke the back of his neck,
heard her shushing him, her voice soothing, as it always was. She wrapped her arms around him again
and held him, held him as long as he needed. The city around them went on with its day, people's lives
continuing to unfold, totally oblivious to what was happening on this rooftop in the downtown core.

When he could recompose himself, he turned around to face her, dipping his feet and lower legs
shoes, socks and jeans into the water, taking her hands in his, trying to look into her eyes with his
own, bloodshot, tear-stained. She smiled and leaned forward, kissing him gently, tenderly, her lips cool
against his. No matter the weather or the temperature outside, her lips were always cooler than his,
although he didn't mind.
"I don't regret any of it," she said softly, stroking the back of his hand with her thumb, her eyes holding
his gaze. "If I had to choose again a hundred times, or even a thousand, this is the choice I would make
every single time."
He tried to speak, but his words turned to staring. So that is what they did. And when the staring ended,
he held her as she held him and the world outside stopped mattering. It never mattered in her arms:
family, friends, work, commute, shopping, chores. Nothing existed outside of her in these moments.
"How much longer?" he finally asked when the silence became too much, when he was afraid what it
might mean, and had to speak to just to hear her.
"Not long," she said softly as she looked up at him.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered, reaching out and brushing her cheek with the back of his fingers.
"Are you sure? Could you be wrong? I mean, you look fine."
She closed her eyes at his touch, bringing her hand up to hold his against her cheek. "I'm sure. This is
how it always happens."
"Does it hurt?"
She giggled. "I don't know. Never been through it before," she offered with a wink.
He started to speak, started to say those three words that held so much meaning, the words that lovers
whispered across a pillow, that parents whispered into a child's ear, but she stopped him, putting a
finger to his lips. "Not today. We said we wouldn't say it today, no matter how true it is." Her voice
cracked as she spoke and despite the water all over her, he could still see the trail down her cheek. This
time, he held her.
When her shoulders stopped shuddering and all he could hear was her breathing, he spoke. "How will I
move on?"
"Don't worry about it. You will," she whispered into his chest.
"What if I don't want to?"

She looked up at him and touched his cheek, but said nothing. She curled back into his chest and held
him as tightly as he held her. He stroked her hair, she ran her fingers delicately down his arm, and that
was how they said the words they needed to for the last time.
He was aware when she stopped breathing, or at least within a few minutes of it, but he continued to
hold her anyway. The day grew long, the sun set, and it began to grow cold, but he held her. He never
wanted to let her go, he wanted to hold her forever, knowing that when he did let go, when her body
sank into the water, it would fade away and she would be well and truly gone.
So he held her, even as he started to shiver and long after his feet had gone numb. By the time he was
ready to let her go, the skyline had begun to lighten, the dawn teasing its way toward the horizon. He
was gentle, leaning forward and slowly lowering her into the water and, even as he did so, he could see
her tail fading away, moving up her body, across her stomach, then torso.
He let go of her hands and watched her face, her eyes shut gently as though she was sleeping, and in the
dim of the morning, he could swear there was a slight, coy smile upon her face. It was her smile that he
would never forget.