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Who can say
where the road goes
where the day flows
only time
And who can say
if your love grows
as your heart chose
only time

The diner saw few customers for a Thursday night; the late concert and fireworks in the borough park saw to entertaining the town for the evening. Still, the customers were as animated as usual. Dar looked around, noting familiar faces that evoked both pain and peace as friendships that had lapsed were sadly but fondly recalled.

“Excuse me, Miss?” The man waved and pointed to his wife’s plate. Dar walked quickly to the booth.

“What can I do for you?” She wanted to add, “Dave?” but thought better of it. She wasn’t hiding by any means, but neither did she want to stick out; the idea that anyone could recognize her came and went without much thought since she didn’t much care what anyone might think, even if she still cared for the people who frequented the place. It just didn’t seem to be the time.

“My wife’s burger is really undercooked. Would you mind?” He held up the plate. Medium isn’t supposed to bleed all over the plate, and the fries aren’t supposed to be colored red, no matter what seasoning, she thought with a grin. She received the proffered plate and walked back to the kitchen after nodding politely. Dave was a tad controlling, but he meant well, and really, Marge rarely complained if at all; such was her resolve to be a kind and gentle person. A few minutes later she came back with a substitute burger.

“I’ll take this off the check.” A marginally satisfying gesture for her, but still it was what she could do to make it up to him, even if he didn’t realize that even after sitting and looking up at someone who had been his best friend.

* * *

She tossed the uniform top onto her bed and quick stepped out of the slacks. A very long shift made even longer by some of the tenacious aches and pains that accompanied her not even yet middle age; never a terribly strong person, the last few years had seen a bit of a rally made even more satisfying in that the body that complained on a daily basis finally seemed satisfied after screams for change were met with a single if irrevocable decision to get the help her whole being had requested almost since she was able to talk.

She padded across the bedroom carpet and winced only slightly as her bare feet hit the cold tile of the bathroom floor. She looked in the mirror. Things never looked….never, ever looked the way she had hoped and dreamed they would. A bypassed adolescence and young adulthood followed by a middle age spent in satisfying the expectations of a marriage that ended too soon from the ravages of cancer. She looked again in the mirror, touching her face. Crow’s feet, often the bane of a mature woman, seemed to declare, ‘this is what a nicely aged woman looks like.’

Dar was still glad that at least she could say she was as pretty even if as old as some. Her fading ginger hair, normally the hue of rapidly thinning and fading tresses, seemed to hold on stubbornly; perhaps a ‘reward’ for being so patient.

“You’re really looking pretty good,” she said to her reflection; a joke she shared with herself. While not a glamorous or even terribly pretty woman, she was happy that she actually did look ‘pretty good’ on most days and actually didn’t look ‘half-bad’ on those days we’d all like to avoid. She touched her throat and recalled the only outward sign of who she had been other than a wee bit of down that traversed the distance between her wrist and her upper arm.

“Dear diary,” she said with a slight laugh. Never one for documenting the day on paper or even on pixel, she never the less chronicled the day’s events in a dialog before bedtime.

“Dave is looking tired; I’m wondering if things have gotten to that stage?” She remembered how worn both of them looked only hours before. Marge normally didn’t accompany Dave to the diner, but this evening things looked much worse than she could recently recall. She sighed, remembering the day that Dave took Marge’s hands in his and spoke vows that would be tested over and over across the years; ‘for better or for worse’ seemed to be a cruel tease, but paled in comparison to the sad taunting of ‘in sickness and in health.’ No two people deserved happiness more than those two and Dar shook her head and blinked out tears remembering that no two people seemed further away from happiness than Dave and Marge….

“No…” she thought to herself, “that’s not right at all.” It was in spite of all the tests they underwent that tempered the happiness they enjoyed in the love they shared; a daughter gone from an auto accident and a son lost in a sea of faces on a wall at a monument yet to be built for a day always to be remembered. The only child to survive blessed the two with a grandchild that would likely be born too late to meet his grandmother. The patience of Job tempered with an undying love for a woman soon to depart this earth. Yes. If anyone deserved happiness it was those two.

She reached in and turned on the shower. Pulling off her bra, she smiled at her reflection. Never to be remotely spoken as buxom, her slight frame seemed to recall Audrey Hepburn even if she reached five-ten in her stocking feet. Following quickly, she pulled off her panties and stepped into the shower. She looked down and recalled the past. Nothing was ever hated or despised; her life before and her life after marked by a necessary but oddly never urgent change. She nevertheless was happy; what was that expression they used to use? Ah, yes. Addition by subtraction.

She soaped up and began to cleanse herself from the cares of the day. Somehow there was nothing to be done about the pain and sadness she felt for her friends; even if they didn’t recall just how special they had always been to her. She remembered the look on Marge’s face at the restaurant. Never the one to complain at even the greatest of slights that was destroying her from the inside out, she was sadly and wrongly embarrassed when she spoke up. What was wrong with asking for her order to be fixed? Marge never felt that she deserved better than anyone else if that, and could almost never apprehend just how special a woman she was. Dar thought of the couple and how they seemed to ‘dovetail’ as two so superbly suited for each other. And she thought of how painful that conclusion had been.

“She loves you, Dave…. You and only you.” An admission that was both true and excruciating at the same time. A straightened tie followed by a hug and a kiss on the neck and a prayer. Two friends walking slowly into a very full gallery of people in a church filled with love. Marge walking down the aisle, escorted by a kind man while a woman in front beamed proudly at both of her children. The bride who gave her heart to her beloved. And the young man who stood by his best friend’s side. What’s that old verse say? ‘Greater love hath no man…no one…than to lay down his …their life for a friend?’

Dar thought again of that day; a smile softened by tears? Or was it a frown lightened by laughter. Two hearts beating gently and in time with each other…well one was wearing down and would soon cease to beat at all save in Dave’s own heart. Dar thought of Marge and put her hand to her face; her still soapy palm causing her eyes to sting. She began to weep at the loss that was yet to come. And she closed her eyes, remembering a time not so long ago when she stood next to her best friend wondering how things had been. If life had been cruel for them, how much more cruel had it been for her; wanting to tell Dave how much she…had loved Dave. How life could have been if she hadn’t waited so long to make the decision of a life time.

“It’s time,” she said to no one while still announcing it to the universe. She might never share her love with the man she cherished, but she would tell Dave and Marge who she was. Darien was going to celebrate two events in three days. The birth of Darren, who would have turned 44, and Darien, who would celebrate both her 44th and her 6th birthday. What separated her from being finally who she was? Only time.

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Cold as the northern winds
In December mornings,
Cold is the cry that rings
From this far distant shore.

Winter has come too late
Too close beside me.
How can I chase away
All these fears deep inside?

The face in the mirror looked about as pretty as its owner could recall while the woman inside felt about as ugly asa she ever had. The anger that had raised up inside her the past few days was nothing compared to the self-hatred that remained in its nestle; a not-so-friendly reminder of her beginnings and disappointing existence. She struggled in that void between love and loathing as dreams and wishes continued to be deferred while she forged ahead without a plan. It had to be good just to be a woman, even if she was a woman who had no real regard for herself.

* * *

A while later...at work...

“Good afternoon,” Dar said to the woman sitting by herself. A rare moment alone, Dar wondered where Dave might be, since Marge rarely if ever came to the diner alone. She smiled warmly and placed a glass of ice water on the table in front of Marge, confident that things would be as they always were while lamenting the sad same routine. Marge stuck out her hand suddenly and touched Dar’s wrist.

“It’s always the eyes, Miss,” she said softly. Dar pulled her hand back quickly and went to turn.

“The windows of the soul. They never lie even if we fib now and then, Dardie.” Dar shuddered at the familiar if long forgotten name. She bit her lip, fearing what might have been the worst moment in Darien’s short life. Marge smiled and nodded eagerly, which however intended, still caused Dar to shake nervously. Another attempt at escape was met by a firm grip pulling her closer.

“We shared a crib, remember?” Dar bit her lip again and tears came to her eyes.

“Dardie….it’s okay…Dave doesn’t know. At least I think he doesn’t.” She giggled a bit at the tease, but Dar didn’t hear the last words as she pulled away and ran into the kitchen. A moment later a frail figure stepped behind her as she wept, standing at the back door of the diner’s kitchen. Arms wrapped around her and hugged her, sending her over the edge as she began to sob.

“Shhhh…..it’s okay. I understand,” words that seemed almost foreign to Dar; only a few people in her lifetime admitted to that; her therapist and her surgeons and a very small handful of friends. Even Marge had pushed her away the last time they met as siblings. So many years had gone by; fear and doubt fueled by unkind words exchanged from both of them. How could her sister understand; she wasn’t even ‘her’ sister, so to speak, since Marge had been Darren’s twin and not hers. Thanks to her facial 'rearrangements,' there wasn’t even a family resemblance any longer… Except for the eyes… those same eyes that stared back in disbelief when they last spoke. Eyes that no longer loved but rejected; angry, ignorant…sad eyes.

I'll wait the signs to come.
I'll find a way
I will wait the time to come.
I'll find a way home.

* * *

The two sat at a booth in the back; Candy took over Dar’s area for the remainder of the shift. Marge held her hands across the table and spoke softly.

“Honey, I knew the first time we came in here. You were flitting by and I asked for some lemon for my tea and you said, ‘No problem, Ma’am.’ Like when you used to imitate that waitress at the Jamaican Café when we were little. Funny how things work out.” She laughed softly and Dar’s face turned red.

“Oh honey…” Marge looked away; no amount of playful banter would soothe the uneasy guilt she felt. She patted Dar’s wrist and swallowed hard.

“I am … so sorry.” She looked away again, afraid to face her own brother…her sister.

“I wish I could say it was just because we were young and that I didn’t understand. Marge shrugged her shoulders, but the look on her face invited the anger that had been pent up in Dar’s heart. She went to pull away but Marge would have none of that. She spun Dar around and their eyes ‘met,’ as the saying goes. No passing glance or gazing downward, Dar’s stare practically went through Marge.

“I am…Daddy and Mommy….you know what it was like… I could never do enough to please them.”

“But…” The words stuck in the back of Dar’s throat and she shook her head; angry at herself for hiding for so long and furious with the inexcusable way Marge had treated her. As frail as Marge was, Dar still wanted to shake her; beg her to explain why.

“I….” Too much sorrow between the two of them; years of wasted time seemed to mock both sisters as Dar realized how much she hated and loved Marge at the same time. She stared at the weak figure in her arms and was overwhelmed with guilt; had her bitterness led to Marge’s illness? She shook her head, wishing she could roll back the years and hold the girl she grew up with; her baby sister, if by only separated by several minutes.

Marge hesitated again, the words choked in the back of her throat. She looked up slightly into Dar’s eyes…the same eyes that smiled when the two were young and filled with joy. The same eyes that wept at a horrific parting too long ago to frame within the perspective of new meanings and ideas, and too recent to forget the pain that brought those tears forth….

My light shall be the moon
And my path - the ocean.
My guide the morning star
As I sail home to you.

* * *

Several years before...

“You what?” Marge shook her head; an almost violent reaction to Darren’s news.

“I…I’ve come to the conclusion…” He put his head down; her tone already said everything he needed to hear even if the words were few and seemingly benign. His lip quivered at the thought of the rejection that was underway; a feeling of hopelessness that he had feared, and rightfully so. No one knew Marge better than anybody…anybody that is but her new husband Dave.

“Conclusion just about says it all, Dardie…” Marge shook her head; bitter, ignorant tears streamed down her face. How could her brother turn his back on his faith and his family? How could he embrace something so foreign; such a weird, wicked view that seemed to embrace such wicked, foolish ideas.

“You’re choosing to end your life for a folly!” Folly? Who even used that term any more? Darren continued, but his voice had modulated to a soft, almost feminine whisper.

“I…My life will end if I don’t do this, Margie. I can’t keep this up…it’s more than a charade. I could…”

“Don’t you dare! Mommy and Daddy love you, and…. Just don’t!” The prospect of suicide was only important in how it might affect the family; never mind the loss of her twin. Darren put his head down once again; feeling ashamed seemed to be a habit with him. He hated his life. He hated his gender….rather, he hated the gender to which he had been imprisoned, so to speak. And he hated that his love was not only misplaced, but forever thwarted by the loss to another. He raised his head only slightly, the voice still soft and high, but with a tremble.

“I could just kick myself for keeping it up. I’ve been so good for so long that you and Mommy and Daddy believe the old lie instead of me. I’m telling you, Margie. This is who I am.”

“No…you’re my brother…you’re not some thing…somebody else. I don’t have a sister. Stop it! Stop it now, Dar…” Her voice trailed off and she dissolved into tears; selfish, perhaps because they only wept for what she felt she was losing without a thought of whom she might lose. The one person Darren felt he could trust was proving how foolish that trust had been.

“I’m not claiming anything but who I am, Margie. Please.” By now, both were weeping.

“I think you should leave.” Marge turned her back on Darren; a gesture that would prove to be devastating for both of them and their parents as Darren took her words far beyond their intent and moved away; never to return at least in the way that any of them would recall. Neither parent would ever see their son again, and never got to meet their ‘other’ daughter in the intervening years before they passed on; both in the same year and both to the same dreaded affliction that would come to apprehend their younger child.

My light shall be the moon
And my path - the ocean.
My guide the morning star
As I sail home to you.

* * *

The present...

“Dardie?” Marge looked up into Dar’s eyes. A pouty frown accompanied Dar’s tears and she shook her head as if to say, ‘Whatever you have to say, I don’t want to hear it.’ She turned away, which evoked a weak tug on her sleeve. She turned back to face Marge. How did she get so frail? Marge took a deep but raspy breath before speaking again; the whispers coming from her lips instead of Dar’s this time.

“I am so sorry. You have every right to hate me. Please don’t hate Mommy and Daddy?” She pled on behalf of their parents; voices stilled by time and distance and another plane of existence. What difference did it make now? Who would benefit, since their ears no longer heard and their eyes…eyes that chose to be blind…now were sightless anyway.

“We….they thought you were dead. You didn’t write….you never said a word.” It might have sounded like a rebuke but for the welcome in her expression and the continued stream of tears.

“They…. They had no way to tell you how sorry they were, Dardie…. I am so sorry.” Once again, Marge felt the need to intervene. She placed her hand in Dar’s and squeezed; the grip was weak and Marge winced with pain. How long did she really have? How did she get so small?

“They could have…“ Dar shook her head at the thought of the decision being so far removed from the present. Whatever they could have done or said was beyond their parent’s ken; as angry and hurt as she was, she still wanted to believe that they had passed on to a better place.

“They did, Dardie…in their own way. Mommy…when they realized how wrong they were, Mommy prayed every night for you to know….I’m so sorry…” Dar thought about the irony; a faith finally exercised in faith; believing the best for their other child long after it was possible to be a part of their other child’s life. It was her turn to weep bitterly; the sudden sobbing startled Marge enough to shake her. The forgiveness and the search for forgiveness both came too late to realize in this lifetime and it was too much for Dar to bear. She turned slightly away and leaned against the wall as her grief took her. Marge felt helpless; she leaned against the back of the booth, wondering if her plan would succeed. She had every intention of atoning for her sins, but her disease might take its toll before she could see her sister blessed.

Forgiveness seemed to be lost to both in the midst of each other’s pain; both of them wanted to forgive while neither felt worthy enough to be forgiven. But that was just it; Marge needed to forgive herself first before she could receive the forgiveness her sister offered. And while Dar finally was coming to grips with how bitter she had become, the residual effects of her decisions remained; she was unable to grab onto the love her sister had tried to bestow because in the years in between their last words, she had come to a place of self-loathing and disappointment. What would heal her? One might say that only time would tell, but time was about to accelerate, and healing was on the way.

I'll wait the signs to come.
I'll find a way
I will wait the time to come.
I'll find a way home.

Who then can warm my soul?
Who can quell my passion?
Out of these dreams - a boat
I will sail home to you.

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O má´r henion i dhu:
Ely siriar, áªl sá­la
Ai! Aná­ron Undá³miel

(From darkness I understand the night:
dreams flow, a star shines
Ah! I desire Evenstar)

 

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Tiro! El eria e má´r
I 'lir en áªl luitha 'uren
Ai! Aná­ron...

(Look! A star rises out of the darkness
The song of the star enchants my heart
Ah! I desire...)

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“Can you forgive me, Dardie? Please?” Marge lowered her head slightly. She was strong enough to keep from crying; not because crying was weak, but she wanted to keep from moving Dar into a choice fueled by guilt, and that took a supreme effort from someone who could ill afford to expend so much energy.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” she sighed, which said much more that she had intended. Her face was etched with tenacious but fading grief over so much loss between them…and another.

“Whatever you decide, Dardie. I understand.” Any one else uttering those words would have seemed manipulative, but the conviction came through; she wanted the best for Dardie, and that could only be what Dardie decided was best for herself. She had spent almost a lifetime already either bending to the will of others or fighting them in wasteful anger. It wasn’t fair for her to have the need to take the high road; she certainly earned the respect of her family even if they never offered it. But she chose, instead, to take the low road; a parallel path the led her along side her sister and her parents in bitterness.

“I…I know I should be angry with you!” God knows she had every right she thought, and she would have been mostly right. But the need for her own forgiveness and the need for connection with the woman who was her mirror image; the same yet entirely different. The two were asymmetrical opposites, but still tied together inexorably by more than just genetic similarities, but by love. Dar desperately wanted to hold onto unforgiveness, but she had to let go in order to receive.

“I…” Her voice broke and she began to weep. Marge held her arms open wide; barely able to keep them up. The urgency of the moment wasn’t lost on either of them as Dar hurried to her sister and received her frail but determined embrace. The two wept as one.

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O má´r henion i dhu:
Ely siriar, áªl sá­la
Ai! Aná­ron Undá³miel

(From darkness I understand the night:
dreams flow, a star shines
Ah! I desire Evenstar)

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A few days later at Dave and Marge's home...

“Margie? Honey? Dave walked in and laid his laptop on the kitchen counter.

“In here.” Marge called out and Dave strode quickly into the living room, finding Marge sitting with Dar on the couch. The two were drinking tea as if they had been old friends. Dave smiled and nodded.

“Hello; company? Well it’s nice to see you outside of the restaurant.” He stepped closer and kissed Marge on the top of the head. An odd grin crossed his wife’s face before she smiled and spoke.

“Dar was telling me that she’s just last week completed her nursing degree. I was thinking. Maybe she could get a job with the agency.” Dar looked with embarrassment at her sister, hoping Dave wouldn’t notice the growing red glow on her face. She shook her head ‘no,’ but Marge continued.

“We…it would be nice to have someone here that I’m already familiar with. Dar has been very warm and kind to me, and I just know she’d do a great job. Dave shook his head; it was an excellent idea which he hated to face. She noted his uncomfortable expression by forging ahead with a plan she was making on the fly; an idea in the back of her head and the depths of her heart.

“Dave…Honey. We’ve had this talk before. If things get better, all well and good, but we have to face facts.” She appealed to his problem-solving side even though she wanted to embrace him and never, ever say goodbye.

“But…it…”

“I need someone and the agency is needing good help; what better way to keep things….” Her words ended abruptly as she caught herself from saying ‘in the family.’

“Cozy?” Her face took on a Cheshire-cat-like aura as she sidled on the couch next to Dar. She put her arm around her and looked up at Dave as if to say ‘please.’ While she wasn’t about to manipulate Dar into anything at that point she wasn’t above nudging her husband a bit in the direction she felt was direly necessary for everyone.

“I…I’ll talk to Nina tomorrow.” He shook his head; he agreed entirely with Marge that it was a good idea because it was something she wanted for herself; perhaps the last significant request she would make.

Tiriel arad 'ala má´r
minnon i dhá»-sad oltha
Ai! Aná­ron Edhelharn.

(Having watched the day grow dark
I go into the night - a place to dream
Ah! I desire Elfstone.)

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A few weeks later...

“Shhhh…She’s resting, okay?” Dar put her hand on Dave’s arm, and pulled it back quickly. Old feelings had been rising with great effort to the surface as they fought their way through guilt and shame and confusion. How many others had walked her path? Was she the only caregiver who was falling in love with the spouse of a patient? Had she made the same mistake as so many others to fail to guard her own feelings as she poured herself out to her sister?

“Okay. I brought some dinner home; I know things have been rough with all the responsibility today since Jane was unable to come.” He pointed to a fair sized brown bag on the kitchen table; probably a fairly bland meal for Marge if she could tolerate it. Dave likely picked up something Hunan or Szechuan for himself.

“You’re welcome to stay.” She went to shake her head. He shook his head instead.

“No…. you’ve been here all day, and Carla can handle the work while we eat.” His face grew hot and a look of shame appeared.

“Don’t, Dave. I know what you meant. She turned and looked down the hall to the bedroom, sighing deeply.

“You’ve been terrific; I’m so sorry. She’s not a job… You treat her like she was your own. She gets so much out of you being here, and I’m looking at her like a burden.” She stepped back as his eyes teared up. Long slumbering aches seemed to insert themselves in between them, and she was afraid to show any sympathy lest she get too familiar.

“That’s not true, and you know it. You’ve been trying to prepare yourself for something no one can accept with ease. She’s your wife, Dave; you’ve loved her since you were kids.” Dar’s eyes widened as she realized how foolishly transparent her words had been… She quickly backtracked.

“Oh…Marge and I had such a talk today….she told me all about you and her and how you got together.” She covered her tracks carefully and looked back down the hall; the movement of her head drew his attention there only briefly.

“Did she tell you how I betrayed my best friend? Did she tell you how I… I turned my back on her brother in his greatest time of need?” He bit his tongue and looked away; tears began to fall from his face as the shame and truly earned feelings of guilt seemed to overwhelm him. Again she resisted the urge to comfort him even as she noted the pain in her heart over the hearing of his words; his confession. As much as she wanted to be careful, she also cared a great deal for her best friend. She smiled.

“From what Marge tells me? I bet if Darren heard what you just said, he’d probably forgive you.” She shrugged almost imperceptively, hoping he didn’t catch her misstep.

“Really?” Dave couldn’t conceive of a world that banished bitterness and ignorance; he recalled his last words with Darren.

“You hurt your family! I hate you for that!” The two stood almost toe to toe. Dave’s posture was one of a prizefighter sizing up an opponent. Darren shook his head.

“You can’t know how hard this is for me.” There was nearly no chance for reconcilliation at that moment, because, as far as Dave was concerned, it was all about Darren and his needs irrespective of how much heartache those needs would inflice on his parents and sister.

“I’m over you, Darren. Get out!” Once again, another invitation to leave that sealed the fate of an entire family as the love they had fell away to be sadly replaced by ignorance and foolish anger.

---

A few days later...

“You have to take care of him. He’s got no one, and he needs caring for.” It was so touching to hear someone facing the ultimate challenge looking out for someone else, but that’s what Margie had been all about, save for a protracted time-out from compassion. Restored to its proper place, her heart for others was beating strongly even as it waned.

“I…I just can’t.” Dar argued. Marge patted her on the face playfully.

“Of course you can. It’s what I want, and since I’m the one dying here, you just HAVE to!” Her voice mimicked a time and place of innocence and wonder when the two were little. She smiled a conspiratorial smile once again. Dar shrugged her shoulders and nodded reluctantly. Easy enough to agree and then keep an eye on Dave from a safe distance once…. The finality of the thought pushed itself rudely into their playful moment and she began to sob.

“Shhh….shhhh. It’s okay….. I’m okay, honey.” She wasn’t okay, but she would be.

“Now I want you to promise me that you’ll look after him….Promise!” Dar wiped the tears from her face with a washcloth lying on the bedside table before nodding.

---

The following morning...

Carla greeted Dar with a hug and a shake of the head. It was almost time. Dave was in the kitchen pouring a cup of coffee. He held up the cup as an invitation, but Dar shook her head no… She walked quickly to the Marge’s bed, which had been moved out into the living room.

“Hey…” Marge gasped weakly but her smile seemed to light up a very dimly lit face. She raised her head and Dar cradled her. A kiss on the lips; hopefully one of several more of greeting, but both knew it might be the last sharing between the two this side of heaven. Dar had promised herself she was going to be strong for Dave’s sake as well as for Marge. The subterfuge crafted by her sister had worn defenses down as she labored greatly to keep a secret she desperately wanted to share. She was more than a nurse of course, but still one of the caregivers of the woman she held. She choked back a sob as she noted how transluscent Marge’s arms had become; the darker lines of veins and arteries traveling down to her wrist like clearly displayed roads on a map.

“Shhh….You’ll wake the baby!” A little kidding between the two of them; it was a joke that was left over from the past from whenever things got too loud in the house when they were little. Dar bit the inside of her bottom lip; a nervous habit that had produced a distended bit of flesh akin to an old piece of gum. She bit harder than normal as she began to cry. Marge reached over to the table and grabbed the remote, turning the volume up on the TV to nearly deafening. Dar stood up and grabbed her sister’s hand and stroked it softly while kissing her on the forehead. Carla didn’t have anything to hide, and wept unashamedly as Dar beckoned for her to join them. A moment later they stepped back as Dave leaned over the bed, kissing Marge’s cheek.

“Hey, big boy….you got any more at home like you?” She laughed and coughed at the same time, which led to a rough coughing jag. The pain of coughing was etched across her face. Dave took a cold wash cloth and patted her forehead gently. She motioned for Dave to draw closer; her hand touching his gently.

“I love you.” Simple but as true as true can be; she smiled once again and raised up slightly and kissed his cheek. His tears dripped onto her face; a blessing that would be remembered forever. She smiled once again and spoke.

“I think I need to sleep, babe, okay?” He nodded and kissed her on the lips. A moment later he stood back up, and Dar noticed the look on his face. Carla stepped forward and put her stethoscope in place and nodded her head slightly with a half-smile even as the tears fell off her chin. Dave turned to Dar and shook his head as if to plead somehow that Dar could perform a miracle. Her silence and her own tears proved too much and he leaned closer and began to sob in her arms.

---

A darkened near-twilight; made darker by rain and clouds...

“I can’t begin to thank you enough for your help.” Dave said to Carla and to Inez, one of Marge’s home health aids. A few brief tearful hugs and promises to keep in touch before parting; the two women walked away from the grave site to their cars. A few moments later, Dar was left alone with her thoughts as Dave had stepped over to the driveway to say something to his pastor. Dar looked down at the casket sitting on the bier.

“I was going to walk away, you know? It’s really what I do best.” She winced as the presence of a cold breeze seemed to rebuke her guilt. She shook a bit and put her hand to her face.

“I’ll keep an eye on him, but that’s as far as it goes, Margie. You know…a guardian angel, sort of? I couldn’t bear to be any closer than that.” One of those moments where you fail to notice how quiet things have become, she stared at the empty chairs by the grave. No one left, and of course their parents absent as well. As angry and as determined to live her life alone in freedom, for the first time she felt utterly abandoned; a girl who had her way while losing it, only to gain and lose it again.

Alae! Ir áªl od elá­n!
I 'lir uin el luitha guren.
Ai! Aná­ron Undá³miel.

I lacha en naur e-chun
Sá­la, éria, brá³nia.
Ai! Aná­ron Edhelharn

(Behold! The star of stars!
The song of the star enchants my heart.
Ah! I desire Evenstar

The flame of the fire of the heart
shines, rises, endures.
Ah! I desire Elfstone)

“I….can’t, Margie. But I want to, you know? He… I never stopped loving him, even when he rejected me. But I can’t…. To be a caretaker instead of the…”

“Instead of what, Dar?” Dave’s voice seemed to boom in the mostly silent moment, save for the rustle of leaves across the field.

“Nothing…” I was just talking you your wife.” She shrugged her shoulders as if to shrug off her promise to Marge, but her sister had left her with little choice. It’s too hard to say no to something good for you if it’s what you want, no matter how sad or scared you might be. Dave stepped close and spoke softly.

“You were saying…’a caretaker instead of…’ Of what, Dar? A wife?” She shuddered as the word seemed to pierce the cold shell her coat had become; going deep into her soul.

“I know, Dar...I know! I think I knew from the start, but I didn’t believe it. I didn’t want to believe it. But Margie was never good at keeping secrets, as you probably remember.” He laughed softly; of course Dar would know.

“But…” She went to protest, but he raised his hand to quiet her argument.

“I know this has to be very difficult for you. Hell, it’s crazy to me as well. I can’t seem to wrap my head around the fact that the woman my wife picked to keep track of me used to be my best friend; my brother-in-law.” She winced at the former title; as loathsome as if he had called her a whore or a something worse. He noted her embarrassed shame and shook his head, but smiling; the gesture saying, ‘you’re wrong…it’s okay.’

“I can’t promise anything at this point except that I’m determined to see this thru.”

“I’m just a promise to be kept?” She began to sob. He pulled her closer as if to protect her from her own shame as well as the stiff cold breeze that had stirred. There might be exchanges of affection, but it wasn’t time for that. Time instead of reassurance and acceptance and true, not-expecting-anything-but-giving-everything kind of love. He spoke gently.

“No….I’m determined to see this through for you and me. I love Margie and I can’t see that will ever change. But I also know that my love for you never went away….oh you know what I mean. You never stopped being my best friend even though I treated you horribly. I don’t understand this at all. I just know it’s not only what Margie wanted, but what I want. What I need?” It seemed as if he was trying to convince himself as much as Dar until he finished.

“I believe ….I trust that things happen for a reason. We found you because we were supposed to find you. I don’t think I could have done what I needed to do for Margie if it weren’t for you. But I also know that something has been working in me since….since you came to help. It’s like Margie knew it wasn’t just a good idea for us to be together, but a blessing.”

“I…I’ve always loved you….even before….Oh god…” She began to weep; her hand covered her face even as she went to pull away from the safety of his side.

“It’s not that way, Dar…” He paused and laughed. She looked at him and closed her eyes, shaking her head once again.

“Margie told me that ….you know…when boys become….shit…sorry…when boys who are girls….they often just take their name and ….” He laughed again and she lifted her head up; her look was more than a little upset. It was a nearly welcome if awkward moment of annoyance that seemed to help dissipate the grief.

“Dar…Darren??? Come on.” He laughed and she folded her arms and glared.

“It’s not like I thought I’d run into you and Margie here. There was no need to change my mind about my name since I never expected to see either of you again. And then you came into the restaurant, which was bad enough. When Margie talked to me…. I wish I could turn back time.”

“I wish I could, too….to unsay all the cruel things I said to you! To at least try to understand. But we can’t go back…only forward. I think that’s what Margie was trying to say… that only time knows…”

“So where does that leave us?” She turned away slightly and stared once again at the casket.

“I don’t know where that leaves us, but…”

“I know it leaves ….US.”

He smiled and she smiled back weakly; almost willing and yet still afraid to look past the moment to see what the future held.

She looked upward, as if to track her vision from the casket to the dark clouds above. A low, sharp, thin ray of sunshine broke through the dark haze on the horizon and fell upon the slate pavers that led up to the grave site, as if to light their way. She smiled upwards and nodded while a tearful grin grew on her face.

She stepped closer and grabbed Dave’s hand and pointed to the illuminated walkway; noting the obvious sign from heaven before saying at last as she took a few steps with his hand in hers. Kisses would come in time; they always seem to arrive at the right time. But for now, she merely stopped and looked back at the casket one last time before smiling; her voice was only a bit tentative and her hand shook only a little before she said with a grin,

“To us!”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i7MLT4MmAK8

May it be an evening star shines down upon you
May it be when darkness falls your heart will be true
You walk a lonely road
Oh how far you are from home

Mornie utulie
Believe and you will find your way
Mornie utulie
A promise lives within you now

May it be the shadow's call will fly away
May it be you journey on to light their day
When the night is overcome
You may rise to find the sun

Mornie utulie
Believe and you will find your way
Mornie utulie
A promise lives within you now
A promise lives within you now

---

Only Time
words and music by
Roma Ryan and
Eithne Ná­ Bhraoná¡in
Performed by
Eithne Ná­ Bhraoná¡in
(Enya)

Exile
words and music by
Roma Ryan and
Eithne Ná­ Bhraoná¡in
Performed by
Eithne Ná­ Bhraoná¡in
(Enya)

Aná­ron
words and music by
Roma Ryan and
Eithne Ná­ Bhraoná¡in
Performed by
Eithne Ná­ Bhraoná¡in
(Enya)

May It Be
words and music by
Nicholas Ryan, Roma Ryan
and Eithne Ná­ Bhraoná¡in
Performed by
Eithne Ná­ Bhraoná¡in
(Enya)