At The Dock

The wind bites at their skin as they climb higher and higher.

“Everybody gets high,” he says bitterly. “Why did you insist we have to go up high?”

“Keep climbing,” she says. And then: “Wait?”

He pauses, checking ropes and rock. “Wait?”

“Down there. A woman at the end of a wooden dock.”

“The smooth water, the sky, the mountains we’re climbing. I know about all that.”

“Look behind her,” she snaps.

“Oh,” he says, and they move back closer to the rock, and down a ledge. And watch. Because sometimes when you reach for heaven you miss far too much on each.

*

“I brought you snacks!” Jay says behind me, voice bursting with pride.

I let out a breath. I remind myself that Jay is eleven, and from far Outside the universe. Some days it almost helps. “I couldn’t get out of bed this morning. Because I was buried in pancakes, Jay. With syrup. And butter. And whipped cream.”

“Uh-huh! I made you breakfast,” he says, as if I could have someone forgot that.

“After I got the magician to help clean all that up, and you to eat it –.”

“I am very jaysome at helping,” he puts in.

“Then there was lunch. I’m not even going to ask how many subways you went to for all those subs. Or how, even with bindings and being quite jaysome indeed, you turned them into one giant sub. Which asked to be eaten.”

“But I totally explainified that. People sometimes get very unjaysome if their stomachs aren’t full with nummy food, so I helped find lots of food!”

I rub the bridge of my nose. Take a deep breath. Turn.

There is Jay. All of eleven, with a huge beaming grin. If there was a Geiger Counter to measure pride, Jay would be so far off the scale even jaysome wouldn’t cover it. I blink. “You filled the entire cart with fudge?”

“Because fudge is a very squishy hugging!”

“Jay. Kiddo. I’m not trying to be unjaysome. And I am eating enough. Sometimes people just feel out of sorts.”

“They do? But what if they only have one sort to be?!”

“Most people don’t.” I don’t point out I’ve met Jay when he is – older, and far less jaysome. Some things you just don’t say. “Everyone feels off their game sometimes, no matter what the game is. Even with all the adventures we have and the things we do, sometimes it feels –.” I shrug. “It feels like I need something else, but I don’t know what.”

Jay snorts. “But you have me and Honcho and lots of adventures so I bet you don’t need anything else!”

“You’re probably right, but sometimes I feel like I want other things.”

“But but but that’s totally wrong-face, you know! People want to draw a line between need and want all the time.” Jay rolls his eyes; I suspect he does it the exact same way I do. “Doesn’t mean they’re separate, Charlie! Needs and wants mesh together in bindings and that leads to desire and that’s never a little thing at all!”

“That’s... a good point.” I stand and walk over, snag a chocolate bar and start eating it. “Want to help me finish this?”

“Okay!”

And I watch Jay eat through the food in happy abandon and hope no one is watching. But not quite enough to try and make sure no one in. I’m in a mood, and it’s taking al the effort I can muster to make sure Jay doesn’t break it.

*

They reach the summit. There is no conversation. No arguments. Just a shared moment they will never talk about and never forget as long as they live. After a time they descent. The wind bites at their skin as they climb lower and lower but it doesn’t feel cold at all and neither voice a single word of complaint.