Mary's Point

Mary's Point

"If we stay out here much longer we won't go back

together."

Mary shifted her weight on the rock

sending gravel and dirt down into the gorge toward

the river. Joe was uneasy sitting beside her--- he'd never

seen her quite like this before.

Mary was usually passive, unwilling to chance

an opinion, although she held some strong ones.

"You'll never

marry her. She doesn't love you--- I just know it."

"Mary...," Joe's queasy stomach reeled as he twisted,

gingerly placing his hand on Mary's shoulder, "Let's go

back to the lodge and talk--- I know

how you feel, but...."

"No you don't... you see," she smiled

lightly, "I'm just worried about you, that's all."

He touched her hot forehead clumsily with his

cold, white fingers--- he tried to be warm,

but the long hike up to The Point, his vertigo

and her decisive mood that had brought him scrambling

up to join her stole the blood from his hands,

from his head. He stood and stumbled back

away from the ledge and toward the trees to catch his breath.

Joe fell to listening. Softly a lightness

descended around him, the dappling of late afternoon

through the branches above. He was slowly warming--- warming

to the quiet chirp in the limbs around, the soft

dusky scent of dried needles and new

sap. These things seemed suddenly significant.

"This is the worst time of the year to fight with your

best friend," he thought.

Early summer,

it's slow breath drying the sweat on his face,

stole away his vertigo, that long drop

he sensed he'd made by falling in love, but wouldn't

undo. "I'll simply tell her the truth. I love

Susan. That's all. She'll understand.... we're friends...."

When he returned, Mary was gone. The river

moved on beneath the place they'd hung their feet denying

anything had ever happened there.