A Quiet Walk

“Hey, remember that one time we got lost trying to get to Central Park, and we somehow found ourselves in Coney Island? That was a good accident.”
“No. When did that happen?”
“Oh, right. That was Andy.”

They walked through the woods in silence. Crimson light was leaking through the trees, making it look like autumn in the middle of summer. The wind softly carried the chirps of the crickets as they sang. He got closer, reaching out to put his arm around her. She ducked as a branch got in her way.

“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” she said.
“Positive. I think,” he said. “That’s really reassuring.”
“Don’t worry so much. Remember that one time you thought we weren’t going to catch that Yankee’s game, and you were so anxious you made me weave in and out of traffic, getting us a speeding ticket, only to find out we were actually an hour early?”
“Again, no.” “What? How could you forget? We were on the kiss cam!”
“I hate baseball.”
“Oh, right. That was . . . Andy.”
“You kissed Andy?”
“Of course not!”

He coughed, letting the sound fill the air. He put his hands in his pockets and tried to whistle a song he heard the other day, but he couldn’t quite match the tune. He looked up. The sky above them was beginning to turn a deep orange. A stillness rose, the kind that feels like something is about to be said, something important, but nothing is. As they followed the beaten path, the wind grew stronger, causing the trees to crackle and shake. The girl shivered.

“Are you cold?” he said.
“Yes. But I’ll live,” she said.
“Sorry I didn’t bring a jacket. I didn’t think we’d be here for too long.”
“It’s ok.”
“Hey, remember–”
“Is this another memory you had with Andy?”
“What? No, no. What makes you say that?”

She stopped and closed her eyes, massaging her temple. “Look. I understand you like me. I like you too. But my liking you doesn’t mean I’ll fall for any lie you throw my way. Contrary to popular belief, love isn’t blind,” she turned her back to him. “But it isn’t stupid, either.” She walked a few steps forward, then looked back. “I think I see the way back. Don’t call me.” She stumbled down the path. Then she stopped, as if she forgot something, and turned. “I . . . no. Goodbye.”

He watched her walk away, unable to speak. He couldn’t see her anymore. His eyes glazed over, lost in thought. He remembered the goose bumps he felt on her arms as they sat on that hill, looking at the stars. Her smile, as he tried to point out the constellations that lined the sky. Even though he didn’t know a single one, she still pretended to look surprised, and they both laughed when he realized she knew where each one was exactly. She pointed out the Swan, and asked isn’t it beautiful? And he said yes, even though he couldn’t see it, but he could see her. He felt her shiver against him, so he gave her his jacket. He remembered the smile on her face as they kissed.

A frog croaked in the distance, bringing him back. He shivered. It was cold.