I

I sat with my bare legs over the edge, my ankles submerged in the water. The dock swayed with the soft waves that rippled from the boats far out on the lake. The old boards creaked with every rock of the waves. I let the wind pull at my hair as my thoughts trailed, my eyes staring blankly into the distance. I could hear her soft breathing behind me, rising and falling. I let out a sigh. The sun had slid down behind the tops of the trees, only a curved orange glow peeking above the edges. The warm glow melted through parts of the sky, turning the once pale blue into inky patches of pink and gray.

“Do you ever feel like dying?”  she asked. There was something off in her voice. Her tone was cold. I turned to look down at her face as she laid on the dock. Her hazel hair was swept off to the side, her dark green eyes stared up at me. She was waiting for me to react.

I looked back out over the water. It was mellowing, the waves turning into small ridges and disappearing before they neared the shore.

She poked my side with her small finger.  “Answer me.”

“When I was seven I had scarlet fever. Then I felt like dying.”  She smirked. She enjoyed it when I tried to avoid her questions. She sat up and joined my gaze on the water.

“If I was to do it” she started, “I would jump.”

“I would sit on the ledge of a beautiful bridge overlooking a river. It would be early morning,”  she paused.  Her voice was soft, as if she was telling a fairy tail. “I’d watch as the sun would spill over the horizon.  Then, I’d push off the ledge,” her hands gestured like she was about to push off the dock and her lips parted in a smile. “The skirt of my dress would ripple and pull in the wind as I plummeted, exposing my legs.  Then I would hit the water and my body would slowly sink. The fabric of my skirt would be the last to follow me to the depths, billowing and floating above as I dipped further away from the surface.”

Her words fell out of her mouth without any effort, like she had thought about this for a long time – like a story she had told over and over again.

Her voice fell silent. I could feel her eyes searching my face, waiting for me to respond.

“It would be romantic.”  She sighed.

 

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