Page 94 of The Square

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE - ALEC

The yellow windbreaker she has on feels in contrast to the darkness in her eyes. She and Eliza continue talking and I step closer to hear them. But no matter how close I get, I can discern nothing. Their mouths are moving, but no sound is coming out.

Christine is growing increasingly animated and Eliza, as is her natural state, remains inscrutable and unmoving. Then, finally, Eliza reaches out and places her hands onto Christine’s shoulders. I brace myself, waiting for the punch to the jaw Eliza is surely about to receive. But it doesn’t happen. Instead, Christine’s shoulders drop, and her expression softens. She looks over to me. Then Eliza turns her head toward me as well and they are both staring. I wish I could hear them.

Eliza turns, stands next to Christine, and they look at me for a very long time indeed. The sun goes down, the sun comes up, the sun goes down, the sun comes up. Over and over and over again. It’s like one of those sped-up nature documentaries where they show the deterioration of a rose petal over days or weeks.

But nothing here deteriorates. In fact, everything stays the same. We are captured in amber, it seems. I try not to blink. I have this suspicion that if I do, when I open my eyes, it will all be gone. But eventually, I can no longer keep my lids lifted and I do. I blink. And when I do, and my eyes open again, I find Eliza walking away, holding the hand of a tiny person carrying a battered teddy bear. And where Eliza stood, Danny now waits.

It all happened in the blink of an eye.

And I fall to my knees and cry.

I have never cried in front of anyone other than my father. I cried in front of him once, when I was a boy, and the slap he delivered on that day warned me off crying in front of anyone ever again. But here, in front of these two people, I kneel and weep.

They rush over now, and as they approach, the sound of the world suddenly warps back into my ears. Like a tornado in reverse.

“Hey, hey. Hey, dude, why so sad?” Danny asks.

“What?” I respond, looking up at him through a veil of tears.

“He asked what you’re crying about,” Christine says. “Is it Eliza? Is it Andra? Do you want us to go after them for you?”

There’s no heat in her voice. No anger or jealousy. Nothing but kindness, compassion, and love. Danny’s face is the same. Pure love. Pure care. Unquestioning devotion. I shake my head at them.

“No, no, it’s not that,” I say.

“Then what?” Danny asks. “What’s wrong?”

I pause to consider the answer. I realize I have none. “Nothing, I don’t think. Nothing’s wrong. I… I just… I think I felt like crying.”

And then Danny laughs. And Christine laughs. And I laugh, even though sobs still emanate from within. And Danny smothers me in a hug. And I hug him back. And Christine wraps herself around both of us, opening her windbreaker wide, and enveloping us in the bright warmth of the sun that is she.

And the yellow sun around us grows bigger and bigger, and it glows ever more intensely, filling the room, and then bleeding free from inside the house and covering the walls and the grounds beyond. And rising and rising and rising up to touch the sky itself and compete with the rays coming down to earth from the vastness of space.

And like some type of nuclear reaction that blinds the world, we explode as one into that cloud of love and light, and we shower down on everything we touch.

And as I’m falling through the air, drifting throughout the universe, now transported and turned into pure energy, I see in front of me a face. A face growing larger and larger, careening into view.

It’s Lars.

Lars is there. Waiting. He opens his mouth as if he means to consume me, and I try to stop my trajectory. I try to slow my collision course with him. But I can’t. I can’t slow and I can’t stop. And all the light and beauty that I feel and that I am is in danger of being swallowed up whole.

And, with my heart racing and my breaths ragged and frantic…

I sit up in bed.

It’s just starting to become light outside. The curtains are of the blackout variety, but there is a crack in one of them and I can see sunshine just peeking through. To my left is Christine. Still asleep. The covers of the bed have been all but kicked off and her naked body is visible in the dim light of the room. Her hand is resting on my thigh. She moans slightly as I wake.

Danny is to her left. Also still asleep. His arm is draped across her stomach, the fingers of his hand also just grazing along my thigh. He doesn’t move. He is as still as a mountain. Strong, powerful, eternal.

My breathing slows as I look around and realize that we are alone. I roll my neck back and cast my eyes at the ceiling. I laugh—almost—at my dream. At the completion of a dream I’ve been having for weeks. At least. I laugh because I’m not a terribly deep thinker. I’m truly not. People mistake me for someone who possesses some sort of philosophical acumen simply because I attended some lekker schools in my day and I have a fair facility with language. But I’m not actually all that bright. I just know how to present for the situation in front of me.

When all is said and done though, deductive logic ain’t really my strong suit. I follow my impulses and operate from instinct. However, even I, as shallow and petty as I know myself to be, don’t have to work terribly hard to figure out what the fok the dream is all about.

Lars was working all this time to take from me, and I never even saw it. Never even thought to consider it. Never took steps to mitigate the damage until it was too late.

As I say, deductive logic ain’t really my strong suit.