The Green Ones

Episode 4, Part 7

Neca and I don't talk much over the next hour. He insists on paying for lunch. I insist on providing the place for our final meal together. I wonder briefly about Olin, but I’m confident he and Zorrah won’t mind being on their own a while longer. Today will be filled with last moments for all of us.

Neca breaks the silence as we traverse the same stretch of cave from a few days earlier. “You sure you’re not planning on knocking me out again? If this is your plan to keep me from—”

“If you're only going to live another handful of hours, it can't hurt to show you my mother's garden.” In reality, I'm hoping to give Neca a reason to live, at least a little longer. “Besides, if I wanted to knock you out, I would have done it at the dump. It’s full of places to hide a body.”

“You have experience with this?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

He’s quiet for a few seconds. “No, actually, I prefer the mystery.”

“Well, we’ve passed the place where I knocked you out anyway. The garden’s not much further.” Light appears in the distance.

“Thanks for sharing this with me. I know how much it means to you.” Neca speaks in a hushed tone, reverent almost.

“Sorry you had to wait so long to eat.”

“I’m sure it’ll be worth it.”

For the first time I can remember, Neca and I engage in polite small talk. It worries me. Somehow it feels like we’ve given up—like we’re disengaging from each other in advance. If that’s going to be the case, we should have shook arms earlier. I blurt out the first thing I can think to say, “If you happen to survive, maybe you can look in on it every now and then.”

“I’d be honored.”

We stop before the final descent into the broader mouth of the cave that shields half of my mother’s garden from the outside world. In between breaths, I hear water trickling. The day hasn’t yet turned to rain, but it will soon.

“It smells wonderful.”

“The honeysuckle is still in bloom.” We slide down the slope and weave our way through the shade garden. Finally exiting the cave, we stand blinking in the grey light of midday. The spring bubbles to the surface a few meters away. Tiny waterfalls drain into the canyon all around us. No more than fifty meters of the narrow, snaking canyon are visible in either direction. The resulting effect is like being at the bottom of a funnel.

“It’s perfect.” Neca breathes deeply and closes his eyes.

“The cave provides a constant temperature. The spring provides a constant flow of water.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

I hold my tongue.

“Right now, this moment is perfect. Thank you.”

I wait several more seconds. Apparently I find perfection more awkward than does Neca. “Should we eat?”

He nods. “Even better.”

After Neca unpacks the food, I realize it rivals the breakfast Olin and I had that morning. Throw in the kiwi, and I’m surprised I’m even hungry. “You really know how to have a last meal.”

He smiles, handing me a slab of jerky. “Why are you so afraid to die?”

I freeze, the jerky between my teeth. I tear off a piece and chew it in order to stall my response.

Neca does the same, waiting patiently.

I don’t want this time to degrade into bickering, and that means taking the question seriously. I swallow. “I’ve never told anyone this, even Olin.”

Neca nods.

“Honestly, death feels too much like losing.”

Neca contemplates the answer before following it up with another question, “You hate losing that much?”

“It’s just that—” I start and stop. Breathing deeply, I continue, “I can’t not try my hardest. If I don’t, it’s like I’ll never know what would have happened. You know, if I would have tried harder.”

“But can’t you always try harder?” Neca offers me a fresh tortilla.

I tear off a piece and let it melt in my mouth. He has cut straight to the one question I’ve never been able to put to rest.

He continues, “I mean, how do you know you’ve given it your best?”

I shake my head. “You don’t. I don’t. I just keep trying.” We continue eating, the sounds of water animating our surroundings.

A few minutes later, Neca picks up the conversation. “What happens when, after continuously fighting not to, you finally die?”

I find the question uncomfortable. Still, discomfort seems better than numbness. “I don’t know. I guess at least I’ll know I tried.”

“But you will have failed. Doesn’t that make,” he reaches out and takes my hand, “doesn’t that make all of life a failure? I mean, if the only point is not to die?”

I’m out of my depth, and I know it. I’ve spent the final years of my childhood setting priorities and meeting them. I haven’t had time for philosophy. Out of desperation more than anger, I throw up my hands. “I don’t know. What choice do I have? I can’t just give up.”

“What if you’re wrong?”

“What are you saying? That I should give up? That I shouldn’t take an opportunity if I have one?”

“I’m sorry, I know this is hard, but it’s important to me.”

We both pause to eat. I chew the last of my tortilla, but barely have the appetite left to swallow. As I finish, a raindrop strikes the top of my head.

“Come on,” Neca gathers the remaining meal and helps me up.

We hurry under the protective mouth of the cave. I lead the way to my favorite spot to sit and think—a dusty wallow between the well polished tree roots of a tzapotl tree. There’s barely room for the two of us. I end up on Neca’s lap, my head propped against his chest. Outside the lip of the cave, the rain falls in sheets.

He picks up the conversation from before, “Let me start over. I’ve never shared all this with anyone. I’d like to share it with you, if that’s okay.”

I shift my head. The physical touch relieves my emotional unease. “I would like that. I’m sorry for getting frustrated. I’m not very good at this.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve no one to compare you to.” He pauses. “So I suppose we’re both virgins at this.”

I reach up to slap him for his juvenile innuendo.

He catches my wrist and places my hand on his chest. “Besides, you’ve been a natural at everything else.”

Sitting here in my mother’s garden, curled into this dark-skinned chadzitzin psych-fighter, I’ve never felt more secure. And never have I wanted more for a single moment to last forever.