Free Anxious Hearts by Tucker Shaw Page B

never seen before, mountains above the trees. The peaks stretch ahead forever, and I know because I can see forever in every direction, and what I see is beauty, quiet and unchanging, no tides to wash away the past or the future, and Gabe’s arms are wrapped around me, his notebook pressed against my chest, and we’ve come here together, to stay together, forever. And then I realize that we are not on the mountaintop, but soaring above it, flying, together, silently and effortlessly, the weightlessness of infinity surrounding us on all sides, lifting us higher and higher. As I rise, I look for Gabe, but he is gone and the sky is cold around me.

Gabriel

    “A ND DO YOU SO PROMISE, FOREVER?” ASKED Père Felician. He stood behind the flower-strewn altar.
    “I so do,” answered Gabriel, kneeling before Evangeline. “Forever.”
    Gabriel stood up and gingerly lifted Evangeline’s veil. Every corner of her face smiled at him. He kissed her, and the crowd cheered. Michael’s bow hit his strings, giving rise to a cheerful tune.
    And Gabriel, proud and complete, his beloved aside him forever now, finally knew what it was to be alive.

eva

    It is not until I wake up that I really begin to worry about Gabe. It is still night, and he is not back, and it is raining, hard. Not like raindrops, but like big, juicy chunks of water, splattering on the roof of the tent like water balloons. “It’s raining cats, dogs, and fried fish,” Da’ would say. I am glad I moved into the tent.
    I am not worried about Gabe’s safety. Gabe knows the forest. If anyone can find his way through a storm, Gabe can. I am worried that he will never come back. Maybe he decided that he doesn’t want me around. He wishes he hadn’t brought me here. He didn’t want us to be together last night, he hated the way I looked, the way I moved, the way I sounded. I tryto remind myself how I felt this morning, leaning against the birch tree, unworried and certain.
    I unzip the tent and shine the flashlight out into the woods. I gasp when its light catches a pair of sneakers, standing four feet from the tent.
    Gabe’s sneakers.
    “Gabe? How long have you been standing there? Why didn’t you come in?” I shine the light up at Gabe’s face. “You’re wet.”
    “I’m going, Evangeline,” Gabe says, emotionless and stern and certain. “Away. Forever.”
    I slide on my shoes and step out of the tent and into the rain. “Gabe, what are you talking about?”
    “I only came here to say good-bye.”
    “You said that yesterday,” I say. “What’s the deal?” My hair, suddenly soaked with rain, begins to mat to my face. “Gabe?”
    Silence.
    “I’ll come with you,” I say. I think. I’m not sure. I want to say it, and I want him to say yes.
    “Not this time,” he says. “No.”
    I point the flashlight at his sneakers again, then turn it off. “What did I do?” I say. “What did I say?”
    “Not you,” he says. “Not you.”
    “Is this about Paul?”
    Gabe turns around and takes a few steps toward the woods before stopping. He shakes his head. “I failed him, Eva,” Gabe says.
    And I know, as well as I’ve ever known anything, that this time Gabe really is going away. He wants to disappear.
    He walks not slow, not fast. I notice that he is limping more than before. His notebook peeks out from under his sleeve, wrapped around his forearm. And I just stand still and watch.
    As his footsteps fade and his shadow is swallowed by the wet pre-dawn forest, my heart sinks and slows. I feel for my pulse in my wrist and I find none, and I wonder if this is what it feels like to die.

Gabriel

    S UN GAVE WAY TO MIST, WHICH GAVE WAY TO A shower, reversing the usual order of things, but the wedding celebration progressed through the hazy seaborne spray. Gabriel held Evangeline’s hand tightly while they danced, spinning her faster, ever faster, under the canopy of apple trees, her swirling skirts and his soaring soul caught up in the lively tune