Love Story: Page 7
October 5, 2015
June 2000 – Risser’s Beach, Nova Scotia
The night after my sister arrived, we drove to the beach, late. We picked up her beautiful friend, Gill, on the way. I remember this quiet feeling of futility, knowing that Achim was going to meet her. Sigh.
The day had been warm, but the night had that stinging atlantic chill. The sky was inky black, with little to be seen for the palpable fog. We were going to go swimming. We stripped to our bathing suits, and I took off running down the shoreline to warm up before the plunge. I knew the beach well, a long, open expanse of fine, pale sand, generally void of any debris. There is something glorious about running at night, when everything, even your own body, is blanketed in quiet darkness. The quick movement without the distraction of sight sharpens the focus on feeling. I wasn’t wearing my glasses, but I wasn’t worried. I can remember I felt my legs like pedals pummelling the cool sand, changing gears, up, up. I was zooming, full speed, no holds barred. Blindly. Wildly, I careened around and tore back up the beach, lost in the feeling of flying.
Then, very suddenly, like a door hastily flung open, Gill appeared alarmingly close in front of me. I veered sharply to the right and narrowly missed her, but as she saw me and slowed, Achim, running behind her, was forced to the left – directly into my path! We collided, crashed, exploded into one another – I vaulted marvellously through the air and landed an impressive distance away, bursting immediately into dramatic sobs. I wasn’t injured, but my fuss served to overtake Achim’s quiet, calm observation that his hand kinda hurt.
It was broken. Badly. Very badly, as it turned out. But there was still a week left of his visit. He assured us repeatedly that despite the doubly thick, frightening purple-blue palm, he could still move it. Kinda. So it was probably okay. He didn’t want to leave yet.
Back in Goose Bay well over a week later, the doctor sucked his teeth emphatically at the x-ray and hustled Achim onto the next available flight to Germany for surgery. Three and a half weeks in the hospital. The break was deep and complicated, close to the joint on his left ring finger, exactly where a ring would sit.
Page 7/15. In case you missed this post, I’ll be writing and illustrating our story over the course of 30 days. It’s a true love story that spans 17 years. You can expect new “pages” posted every second day, from September 22-October 21.
p.s. Page 1, Page 2, Page 3, Page 4, Page 5 and Page 6, if you’ve just started reading. 🙂