In Four Words

CW: Non-graphic drowning

"Have we met before?"

It's so simple the way she asks it, her head tilted to the right, eyes slightly unfocused. Her coffee is halfway to her lips. She's itching to leave, but somethings keeping her still.

I can barely form a word around the knot in my throat. The "No," I finally settled on, couldn't be easier than swallowing glass, though there's a million things I wish I could say instead. Yes, in every sunrise, in every sunset, yesterday, in the park last winter when the snow first fell, beneath the sway of the spring leaves. I find her in every color of the world. There's sand in my throat now, a tremor in my hand.

She lets out a curious little hum, a small uneasy smile, and then she's flitting away into the crowd, lost between the streams of other nameless folk. I have only a second to memorise the bounce of her hair, a soft strawberry blonde, before I lose sight of her.

It's not until some years pass that I chance upon her again. I wasn't even looking for her, not this time. She's rounding the corner of the sidewalk, sleeves pulled up from the unexpected heatwave. She almost trips, she stops so fast to stare at me.

"I've seen- Have we met before?"

I had practiced, told myself I'd get the moment right when it happened next, but like every previous time I'm at a loss for words, just at the sight of her. I shake my head, ready to walk off, but I'm not able to because she's stepping back into my view before I can escape.

"Really, you're quite familiar, we haven't met?"

I think I might die for a moment, I hadn't even felt her hand on my arm until it's suddenly so warm, fire reaching up to my face. I'm sure I'll melt, reduced to a puddle, in which she'll wipe her skin of me and continue on.

"Only in passing," I manage finally. Her brow furrows. I don't want to get my hopes up, to think she would be disappointed, but I can't explain the somber expression in any other way.

"Oh. Alright, sorry to bother you." I can't tell her that I would give every part of my being for her to bother me. In every aspect of my life, I would wish for nothing more than for her to barge in. The bad, the good, every melody in between. I don't know why I don't, can't fathom the reason words stick to my tongue. They're stuck in place, but I'm not. I wage a losing war, the temptation of looking back almost too great, but I've learned from past lessons that looking back only gives you more to lose.

I soon find I can't seem to escape her anymore, maybe those years of quiet were more of a blessing than I considered. It had hurt back then, to notice her from a distance, too afraid to draw any nearer. The sudden appearance of her hurts more. Theres always a question on her lips when she catches my gaze. The unspoken "Have we met?" Daring to cross forward. Learning to ignore it took more strength than I imagined. I try not to think about the strength it would've taken just to stop, look her in the eye and let everything unspoken flood out between us. Its only ever at night that I dream of what could've happened after.

I barely leave my house anymore.

I'm climbing the rocks by the beach when it happens, trying to gather my thoughts, to think of anything but her, I'm better off attempting Mount Everest. I step forward just to realise, far too late, that my balance is unstable; one slick spot is all it takes. My hands grasp uselessly around me, but I can't find anything to hold. Then I'm sinking, clear, cold water rushes me from all sides, and I feel a great deal heavier than I did.

I want to close my eyes, I want to move my arms, to hold myself and drift. Theres something soft in letting go, in moving on. A feeling I'm not used to settles somewhere deep inside me, could be peace or anything of the sort.

Theres an angel in front of me, I'm sure of it. Waves of blonde fan out around her; the shape of her face, I mistake it for the sun, I had started to miss it in my habit of agoraphobia. In all the languages of the world, I don't think a single one of them could do her beauty justice. I know it's her; she's changed since our last conversation. Time seems to move without me noticing more and more nowadays.

The chill disappears from where she touches me, and the ocean slips past me as we ascend from its depths. The sun sparkles across the surface; it's like stars touching down, swirling in her presence.

We burst out. I'm practically gasping. She has a touch more finesse about it. It's a slow road back to shore, but soon we're both staggering back to land. I stay standing for a few moments before slumping back into the sand. She's blocking my vision again, reaching out to brush wet strands of hair out of my eyes.

"Surely this time you'll tell me yes. It's starting to become far too strange the way you seem to linger. We have met before?" Theres a slight twinkle to the right of her pupils when she says it, it feels as if I'm back in the ocean staring through the water again. She leaves me even more breathless than before.

A laugh bursts out of me, tears threatening to fall, and I wonder if she would even see them with the sea still clinging to me. "Yes, I'm realizing now, I'm sure we have."

Theres only a flicker of surprise before she's grinning, brighter than I've ever seen.

"Tell me your name."

"Lucy," I pause for a moment. I wonder if this is worth it. I know how it'll end, how things will go, what I'll lose. "Tell me yours," I say instead. They'll never forgive me.

"Martha."

Later, when I watch her walk down the aisle, passing my parents' empty seats, she stops to hand the bouquet off, bells ringing in the distance.

She grips my hand in hers, a sly smile forming.

"Say, have we met before?"