The Sounds of the Evening

In the waning days of summer, Anna sat on her deck listening to the sounds of the evening pierce the still-light air. There was not yet a hint of sunset, but in the atmosphere the night was clawing its way forward. A breeze from somewhere far off carried a cooler wind than the day could conjure. And in her peripheral things already seemed to be growing darker. 

At her feet the wooden planks of that old deck seemed damp and yet it had not rained in days. The air was so thick that it seemed to clamp all around her. Some days it was hard to even breathe. At night, when that grip should have loosened it seemed only to grow tighter. Her heart tried to jump out of her chest, her lungs gasped for breath, her throat clenched in desperation and anxiety. What, she sometimes wondered, could possibly survive in this air?

Most days she couldn't even face the sun. The heat was too much, the constant attention left her exposed, visible. The last thing she needed was for someone to notice her. And yet for the last few nights she came out on her deck and sat in a chair that had been ignored for years and allowed the sun to catch a short glimpse of her before it disappeared.

Things always disappeared.

Anna stared blankly at the pool; unattended and uncared for it had turned green and began to fester. Things grew inside of it, but it was a shell, nothing like what it once was, nothing lived there. Through the artificial pond that it had become in the intervening years she saw happy moments. Summers with Rachel--splashing, talking about boys, drinking lemonade, ignoring the reality of life beyond childhood and youth. Completely unprepared for the reality that yes, they will grow up and that sometimes that means growing apart. Remembering Rachel hurts, Anna cannot even completely recall why. It hurt more then; in the years since it has become a numbness. Anger replaced with acquiescence, replaced with…nothing.

Rachel wasn't the first case, but Anna hoped deeply it would never happen again. Now, as the sky faded into a hazy purple, she longed for that numbness.

The noise of the evening grew louder but more remote. The sun dipped toward the horizon, grew larger. Its light faded.

The evening was coming on now—the air thicker than before. The bugs began to bite around her ankles and her chest began to tighten and it was all too much. She slipped through the screen door and slid it shut. Quietly. Her mother would be in the living room now and if she knew Anna was stirring she'd make her talk about the things going on. About the things the sun had already seen. She had already been exposed. It was enough for one day. Too much.

Her mother called her from the living room.

Anna took in a deep breath and crossed the threshold between rooms and no one was there. But the voice—hadn't she heard? She shook her head. No, Anna told herself, no one else had been in this house all day. 

One day, she dreamed, there would never be another lonely house. Even when her mother was present it felt like she was alone. Not the daughter she wanted and never could be. Anna ran her fingers down a few strands of hair in front of her face. Working as hard as possible was simply not enough. She always worked so hard but perfection is a hard sister to emulate. 

It had been a unique summer. Not once since she was a child had this house felt so warm. Once it had been easy to just live exactly as her mother wished. It was rewarding to live up to those impossible standards for a brief moment. On top of the pyramid Anna saw her mother's face in the crowd and it wasn't her teammates lifting her up—it was that longing in the pit of her stomach being fulfilled lifting her weightlessly into the air. If only for a few brief seconds.

But trophies and ribbons don't win happiness, they do not measure love or pride. And when Anna broke her leg and the competitions ended the truth became clearer for Anna. The demands of competition became demands in the household. The quality bonding time was stifling. Friends on the squad were good for morale and trust. Friendship on its own was rebellion and betrayal. Good grades did nothing to console her mother; she was being irresponsible. She once had a purpose and a sense of drive; competition gave her meaning. What was she now?

When Anna went to college she met a boy named Brad. Brad and Anna dated briefly, and although he was always very friendly and respectable outwardly, Anna's mother disapproved. Anna was supposed to come home on weekends, but she would rather be with him. This meant that Anna was ignoring her mother.  "How can you be so selfish?" her mother asked without a hint of irony. Anna was appalled. It had not been the first time she was asked something like that.

"Do you ever stop to wonder how your actions effect others?" her mother asked when Anna explained she and her friend Rachel had planed to go to the beach for a week in high school. Anna's grandmother had to be taken to a doctor's visit that week. With no discussion or warning, it had been deemed Anna's responsibility. There was no argument, but Anna's mother stalked away in silence. Anna left the next day for what should have been a week of fun with a close friend feeling guilty.

Brad was supposed to visit over spring break but instead Anna got a call that his car broke down. The next day there were pictures of him drinking with his friends the night before. Brad stopped talking to Anna over that break and Anna was inconsolable. Brad had always treated her well, she thought. Why could this have happened? Why did the people who meant the most always disappear?

I didn't do enough, she told herself. It wasn't a healthy relationship, she rationalized, after all, my mother did say I was ignoring her.

She knew in her mind these things were not true, that she had done nothing wrong, but somehow the things closest to her always disappeared. Brad was not a real solution; he was a replacement, and so she clung to him desperately, though he never spared the effort to deserve it. She ignored any warnings from the people around her. Brad had dated a lot of girls. But he was different now. She could make him different. She had no one else, needed the way he made her feel or thought he made her feel. When she needed them most the friends she had played with in  that once-pool had disappeared. She couldn't even remember why. She almost wished she could stir up the energy to be angry. Apathy was more painful. She left Brad behind with Rachel in the past. A past that despite her best efforts clawed at her when the sounds of the evening whispered in her ears. 

Anna let go of her hair and let the house come back into focus. She peered over to the chair in which her mother sat so often. Whatever pride that she tried to seek so often was now a distant memory. Demands and reprimands were the new household vocabulary.

The silence in the house was overwhelming. Anything, she thought, would be better than this silence. The house was so empty. It had once been so full of life. When she was a girl she always had friends over. She always had her puppy to cheer her up in the dark nights when the thunderstorms rolled in or when the silence took over the house. But now, she only had herself and she didn't know whether or not she was strong enough to keep herself safe. She tried to be for so long. Told herself that she didn't need her mother's forced pride, her friends' temporary embraces, or any other phony show of support. In the end it had always just been Anna. On her own. Everything disappeared. She was an adult now and she had to face that truth.

But this summer was unique. She had laid on this couch and cried not out of loneliness but because for once she didn't have to try to fight to feel accepted. She fought to keep herself from getting hurt. Insisted she didn't deserve any kind of attention. That he was wasting his time on her. That he could disappear now and it would be better than to think that for once something would work out. 

Now she was alone in this silent house. The sun had gone away and the smothering air from outside had crept its way in. The noises of the evening were drawing in all around her. Anna collapsed onto the couch where she had once been held and tried not to think. Tried not to think about anything else disappearing. The house was so hot and everything was closing in. 

She had to get out. Had to leave. She ran out through the front door and tried to breathe. It was still warm from the sun and damp and thick. Like taking a breath under water. Trying to recover herself she looked into the sky, which they still shared. Sometimes at night she'd look into the sky and imagine him on one of the planes flying overhead. One day soon he would really be flying over her. But it was too far off. 

Fighting for breath, tears began to trickle down her face. She was tired of waiting, tired of having to pretend to be strong. She just wanted to rest. She fell from the weight of her own thoughts and buried her head into her arms. Her tears pooled around her face. Anna had heard so many promises and didn't want to wait to see if this one would be like all the others. She trusted him like she had never trusted anyone before. But the sounds of the evening whispered to Anna. 

She didn't know how long she cried. She didn't know what time it was when her mother came to the stairs from a late night at work and wrapped her arms around Anna without a word. She didn't know how to respond to this foreign act. But she accepted it and fell into her mother's arms. The weight slid down from her shoulders and poured out of her. She couldn't carry it all alone, and though her mother said nothing that embrace said everything. The air didn't seem so thick, the sounds of the evening were now farther off.

Anna would be safe. Some things didn't disappear.