When the Heart Falls

Winter holds my hand tighter. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." I pull my hand away and point to another painting, of a slave ship caught in a storm, slaves thrown overboard and drowning. The angry sky fills the scene with dark hues as the sea rages against the ship. "I like this one."

"It's sad."

"It's life. You can try to hold on to what matters, a ship on the sea, someone you love, but in the end life tears it all away." Looking back and forth between the two paintings, connections form. "We start in light. We end in darkness."

Winter takes my hand. "I'm happier than ever."

"For now."

She smacks my arm. "You're horrible."

"You bring out the best in me."

"Kiss me," she says, face upturned.

"Never."

She pouts. "Aren't you afraid the world will end?"

"You never know."

"So just in case?"

"Just in case." I kiss her, feel her hands wrapping around me, going down my back, sliding into the back pockets of my jeans.

Winter moans.

"Get a room," a teenager yells. He turns to his two friends as they walk by us. "Stupid slut."

Ripping away from Winter, whose face falls into pain, I grab the kid’s collar, face inches from his. "Apologize to the lady."

The kid holds his hands up. "What the fuck, man?"

My grip tightens. "Apologize. To. The. Lady."

"Dude, anger problems. What, you got beat up on by your dad or something?"

"Shut up."

One of the museum staff, a large black man, gets between us. "Excuse me, is there a problem here?"

I let go of the kid. "This fellow insulted my girlfriend."

The security guard turns to the kids. "I'm sorry, but I have to ask you to leave."

The kid scowls. "What? Man, we didn't do nothing."

"Please leave,” the security guard says with more force.

"Fine." They start to walk away as one of them says, "Can you believe that guy? Needs anger management, man."

I straighten my shirt. "Thank you." I’m turning toward the paintings when the security guard puts a hand on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry, but you too."

"You serious?"

"I am."

I glance at Winter, tears streaming down her face, make-up smeared.

"We'll go.” I take her hand. "It's late."



I buy Winter a print of Turner's painting of Honfleur at a nearby gift shop, and we head to a hotel. "One room?” I ask her.

Winter nods. She hasn't spoken since the museum.

I pay for the room and find it upstairs. Winter sits on the bed, already undressed, as I take my clothes off.

"That guy was an idiot.” I throw my jeans on the chair and sit next to her.

"I know." Winter doesn't face me. She's still solemn.

"It's okay to kiss in public." I rub her back, hoping it will help her relax.

"And have sex outside?"

"Even better."

"I just wish people weren't so mean.” Her voice hitches.

"Few people are truly mean. Most are just stupid. They forget actions have consequences."

"And you remind them with a fist?" She turns to face me.

I sigh. "I shouldn't, because there's another way, right? But I don't know that way. And I won't let anyone hurt you. I can't. You understand?"

She nods. "You were right about the slave ship. That's life. You can try to find happiness, a raft amongst an ocean, your soul mate, but something always holds you back, something always traps you. We start off pure, but eventually something gets its claws in us, and it never, ever let's go."

I whistle. "I miss the optimist."

"She's gone," Winter says.

"Just tired." I lay down and pull the blankets over us. "Let's go to bed."

She puts a cold hand on my chest. "No. I want you."

"Winter, are you sure?"

"Yes. I refuse to let bullies make me feel bad for wanting to be with you, for enjoying this."

"What do you—"

"Shhh." She straddles me, her hands gripping my chest.

"Winter, we don't need to—"

She silences me with her body. We become one, dancing to our own rhythm as we let the judgment of stupid people fall away.

"You're amazing,” I tell her, as our bodies recover.

She leans into my arms. "I never want to feel bad for kissing you. I never want to fear touching you."

"You never have to. Whatever anyone says, whatever comes and whatever came before, it's okay."

"I thought you didn't care about that," she says. "I thought you didn't believe."

I kiss her again, arms tightening around her. "For you, I believe."





CADE SAVAGE





CHAPTER 24





WE TRAVEL OVER the first, and formerly longest, cable-stayed road bridge, Le Ponte de Normandie, that spans the river Seine, and I marvel at what the human mind has conceived of that once must have felt impossible. The bridge serves to remind me that what people call impossible is just something that no one's done yet. Everything was impossible at one point, until it wasn't.