Madeline
As I stepped out of my electric blue Nikes and removed my ankle socks, I felt the grass was cold beneath my feet but it felt good and refreshing like a stick of spearmint gum for my feet. I moved my feet around, feeling the blades between my toes and the wet mud underfoot. I could hear the ocean waves crashing on the sharp rocks beyond the cliff. I stood close to the drastic edge, maybe too close, and I looked up into the blue sky. Why did it seem more blue here than any other place on earth?
“I’ll miss you, Dana,” I said above a breath. The nearest town was miles away and I never saw a soul on my way here. “I’ll miss you, Dana!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.
I had met Dana when we were freshmen at Crocker College for women. We shared an anthropology class during our first semester. In the lecture hall, I enjoyed sitting on the right side of the lecture hall. It was on the opposite side of the main door and felt empty on that side of the room. It felt like sitting there helped to balance the large room. Dana also enjoyed sitting on the right side of the lecture hall.
One day, she had asked me to borrow a pen for notes. When I retrieved one from my MonsterCat pen pouch, she could not stop talking about how much she loved the animated series, how much MegaCat was her favorite MonsterCat, and that she couldn’t wait for the next season to come out. We made plans as class was starting to watch the first episode of the new MonsterCat series together. We soon became inseparable.
One Wednesday after an episode of MonsterCat she asked me, “have you ever seen the ocean?”
The question struck me as odd that she would think to ask, but I replied, “only in movies.”
Crocker College for women was in the middle of Oregon. I needed to leave my home town of Copper, Colorado. Leaving seemed to never be an option, until my mother asked me about college. By the mention, I knew it was the only chance to leave.
The following Friday, after class, we loaded her red Subaru Outback with camping gear borrowed from friends and headed west. Dana grew up in Oregon and seemed to know the ins and outs of the green state. The drive took us through high mountains and down low valleys and when we stopped; it seemed to be at the end of the world. We had stopped at the place I now stood.
“This is my favorite place in the entire world,” she said.
“Aren’t you afraid of falling on the sharp rocks below?”
Dana smiled. She looked at me with her big blue eyes and said, “it’s only death.”
When Dana disappeared over three months ago, I gravitated to this place in my mind. Day after day, I had thought she would reappear. There was no suicide note. Her small dorm room remained untouched. It was as though she disappeared. But something about this place told me I would find my answers here.
Although they never found Dana’s body, they suspected her boyfriend Ryan had killed her. In all disappearances they seem to look to the boyfriend. As the evidence grew and Ryan confessed, it appeared I would never see Dana again.
As I stood there, Dana’s words came back to me, “it’s only death.” Feeling the calm air on my face and the chilled grass in my toes it took me back to standing here with Dana. It reminded me that Dana would be okay with her death. She could visit this calming place now any time she wanted. The sun warmed my face and for a split second, for the first time in three months, everything seemed okay.
“Don’t fall,” said a familiar voice from behind me. For a moment, I felt unsure of the grip of my feet, like I would fall down onto the sharp rocks and into the crashing waves.
I spun around, my electric blue Nikes still pointing to the wild ocean, to see Dana’s warm smile and her big blue eyes. Confusion spread across my face.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Are you surprised to see me?”
“You… you’re dead. Ryan killed you. He strangled you and dumped you deep in the Willamette National Forest. He confessed to it. I was there.”
Dana laughed and said, “that man is a piece of work. You know that if people are pressured, they will confess to things they didn’t do. I can’t believe he took the fall. Serves him right for all the hell he has done to me.”
“If you are not dead then…”
“I escaped. I needed some time to think. The pressures of school. The pressures of money. And then there was Ryan. He was so needy. I couldn’t cope.”
“And you couldn’t tell me you were leaving?” I asked. My voice was elevated. I could not believe Dana could be this wildly selfish.
“I couldn’t risk it,” Dana said.
“Ryan is in jail because of you,” I couldn’t tell if I was happy to see Dana or furious with what she had put us, her friends and family, through.
“I saw,” she said. Her words were so simple, but held so much heft. We let the heaviness sit in the air as though it were a cartoon anvil dropping on our heads.
“Are you coming home?” I asked.
“I can’t. My place is here now.”
“We need to tell everyone you are here. And get Ryan out of jail.”
“I can’t allow you to do that.”
Dana’s face was no longer kind. It was a face of strong determination. I knew I needed to get away.
We started our confrontation fifteen feet apart but now Dana was close enough I could hug her. Or reach out and wring her scrawny neck. I went around Dana to dodge her. I needed to walk back to my car, drive far away, and make the phone call that would relieve Dana’s friends and family of their worry and set Ryan free. But as I dodged her, she pushed me. I went sailing into the air as if there was zero gravity. Up and down onto the sharp rocks and into the angry ocean waves.
My body knocked against the rocks with the movement of the furious ocean and Dana called out, “it’s only death.” I now know what she means by this.
