Chapter 25: Descending Quietly, Desperately

Calvin watched Alexander and Miranda enter their bedroom. He got up a few minutes later, in order to head over to the couch. He felt very tired from the afternoon's conversation, and confrontation. All he wanted to do was sit back and read something logical, something that made sense, something not about people. Alexandria stopped him.

“I'll take the couch tonight,” she said. She looked miserable, but her voice was firm. “One night it's yours, one night it's mine. That's fair.”

“And the other nights?” Calvin asked, as Alexandria went into her room to get her things.

She stopped, putting her hand on the door frame. She ran her hand up and down it's weathered wooden side. “There aren't going to be any more nights,” she said, softly. “We're going home tomorrow.”

She went into her room, and closed the door behind her. Calvin knocked on Miranda's door. She came to it, and opened it softly, making sure it made no sound.

“I think Al finally fell asleep, thank goodness,” she said. She was pitching her voice as quietly as possible. “So keep it down. What's up?”

Calvin spoke quietly as well. “Did you hear that we're going home tomorrow?”

She passed her hand over her forehead. “That doesn't surprise me. Tensions are running pretty high. But let's all sleep on it, and see what happens. I'll pack Alexander's and my things just in case, I suppose. I guess it was good that I did some cleaning today.”

“You did?” Calvin asked.

“Yes,” said Miranda. “Couldn't you tell?”

Calvin could not.

“After breakfast, Al went back to his room to try to rest. He hasn't been sleeping well at all, you know. You guys were on your hike, and I thought that I would be a poor guest if I didn't do anything to help. So I cleaned up as much as I could. Dusting, mostly. Their friend must keep things pretty clean when he leaves. And since we all have sleeping bags, we should have to do any laundry. I'm not even sure he has laundry here, for that matter. Anyway, we shouldn't have to do too much before we leave tomorrow.”

Calvin nodded, and let Miranda withdraw into her room again. He packed up his things by the couch, and by that point Alexandria was done packing up her things. They switched places, without a word.

He laid his possessions out inside the room, but not too many of them. He put a change of clothes in the closet, and his sleeping bag and pillow on the bed. There was no point in spreading his belongings everywhere if they were leaving the next morning.

Alexandria had probably been upset with him for not siding with her. But he could not get the journal out of his mind. The last entry had been dated for today. One of the two girls was right, and it was impossible to know without the journal. And if they were leaving tomorrow, they would never recover it.

Furthermore, it was probably not a good idea to steal from the dead man's house. And because he guessed that none of them read shorthand, they couldn't borrow it temporarily. It was good that he left it where it was.

Although the puzzle of the whole thing was surprisingly frustrating. And it wasn't helping that, now that he thought of it, the entry could have been anything-- a grocery list, a book he was writing, anything. It didn't have to be a suicide note. And if it had been a suicide note, the man probably would have written it in plain English so anybody could read it-- although, was that really true?

Calvin thought about it a little longer. But he still came to the conclusion that there was simply not enough information to figure out which girl was right. There wasn't even enough information to tell whether there was an answer, somewhere up in those high and cold mountains.

No, Calvin did not regret his decision for staying impartial. The girls weren't really interested in facts, anyway. Was that a bad thing? No, probably not.

It was getting late. He walked over to his window, drew back the curtains, and looked out.

Through the dim and flickering light of the fire coming from the windows of the next room, he could see that a fresh snow was starting to fall. It made no sound as it dropped, lazily, from high above. The tracks that he and Alexandria made on their return were slowly being buried. There would be no evidence that they had ever been here, soon enough, except for a clean house.

Alexandria had been right; it got dark very quickly up in the winter mountains. The slim crescent from the night before had vanished. The moon was new. He looked closer, and high above them he saw the lighthouse, still spinning, still shining. Oddly enough, the light did not seem so far away, now. Perhaps it was the fact that he had hiked to and from it in a day. But perhaps not.

He went back to his bed, and sat down. Would the police turn the light off when they got up there to investigate? He hoped not.

Calvin laid down, facing the ceiling, and closed his eyes. He heard the door open and close a moment later.

Alexandria had entered the room. She was wearing loose pajama bottoms and her oversized sweater. Her brown hair lay tangled about her, messy without the winter hat. Her eyes were red.

Calvin opened his mouth to speak.

“Don't talk,” she said. “Please. Please don't say anything.”

He closed his mouth again.

Alexandria hesitantly climbed onto the bed along side him. Calvin didn't move a muscle. She slid up along his left, and reached over and grabbed his right wrist. She turned away from him, pulling his arm with her as if she was curling up in a blanket. Her body pressed against his, very warm, very light, and very fragile.

Calvin knew that she didn't want to hear any of this; he knew that she had asked him not to speak, but he couldn't just sit there and let her do this to herself.

“Lex,” he said, softly. “You know that I don't feel this way about you. This isn't real.”

“Shut up,” she whispered. “Just shut up.”

And so he lay there, thinking of Alexander, and how stories matter. He could let her have this story for tonight, couldn't he?

As he held her, he noticed that she started to shake imperceptibly. And then she started to cry, softly, but desperately.

Yes. He could let her have this story for tonight. Yes he could.

The group drove back to campus the next morning.

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