Suburbia

You and your Significant Other had an argument about half an hour ago. You know the type. It isn’t dissimilar from the hundreds of arguments that the two of you have had in the past. It started with something small; You don’t even remember what it was, but that isn’t important, anyway. What is important, at least to You, even if not them, is that You are tired of the arguing. You know that the argument itself wasn’t a big deal, but these things are cumulative, aren’t they? Yes. Yes, they are. 

So, now You find Yourself at the entrance to one of the many state parks in The State in which You live . You love it here. You always have. What’s funny about that is that it wasn’t even your choice to live here, was it? 

“No.” You hear Yourself say, “It wasn’t. It was theirs.” And it was. It was your Significant Other’s, yet here You are. 

When You first moved here, You and your Significant Other lived in The City, but then You had The Kid. The City was no place for a kid; you both knew that. So You made the decision to leave the bustling city, and overpriced apartment, for Suburbia. That was a long time ago.

You had all these great and optimistic ideas about Suburbia. 

“What great opportunities, here!” You told Yourself back then, and You found Yourself agreeing. 

When You found the perfect house, one of the “great” things about it was that it was next to a state park. The very state park in front of which You now find Yourself. 

“I can’t believe it’s taken  this long to come here.” You say.

You find Yourself nodding, “I know.” You can’t help but look at Yourself. Although it’s near dusk, and getting darker, You see the age lines. 

“Time flies.” You hear Yourself say. 

You had heard once, that there is a trail in this park that leads to a beautiful little waterfall. You aren’t sure which trail it is, or how far it is, but You do know that You have always wanted to see it, and, although You and your Significant Other are hosting the monthly dinner party that You have had going for several years, You decide that You need some time to think. To relax. So, You decide that it’s time to take Yourself to see that damned waterfall. You pick up the backpack that You brought and stride into the park. 

As You cross the parking lot, You spot the park ranger, “Park’s about to close.” They say.

“Only be a minute,” You say, knowing that that isn’t true.

“You little liar” You hear Yourself say with a sneer.

“They won’t be able to find anyone who’s on the trails,” You reply, “Besides, there won’t be any vehicles in the parking lot, so they will probably forget all about this.”

“Probably right.”

You continue on. You pass a restroom and patio and make your way to the entrance of the trails. You see several people making their way out, and You slip past them without a word. There’s a sign that points in two directions: East and West. The westward-pointing portion of the sign reads, “Laguna Waterfall Trail,” and the eastward-pointing portion reads, “Lowlands Trail.”

“Seems easy to discern the right path.” You say to Yourself.

“Agreed.” You hear Yourself reply, “Let’s go.” And You do.

Once on the trail, You see No One. This makes you happy. You need sometime. Just You, Yourself, and No one. You think back over your relationship with your Significant Other. Was it always like this, you wonder. 

“No, definitely not.” You say. Your relationship has been cyclical. In the beginning, the two of you were very young. You didn’t know how to deal with relationships. How could You at that age? You were a kid, or, at least, close enough to one that No One would have known the difference. Back then, You fought a lot. Those fights were the worst. There were times when outsiders would think that You and your Significant Other hated one another. At times, maybe they were right. 

“No,” You say loudly, almost too loudly, “No we didn’t. We were just young and passionate.”

“Who are you trying to convince?” You hear Yourself ask.

“No One.” You reply.

“Good, because No One believes you.” comes the reply. 

“We were immature.”

And You were. That’s all. But You grew out of that. 

After a while, the trail begins a descent into a dark, thick forest. As it does, it narrows, and as it narrows, the shadows, most cast by the trees, but some not, begin to widen. Or, maybe they lengthen. You aren’t sure. To You, the exact location of the tops of the shadows as opposed to the sides of the shadows are a matter of great uncertainty, but You are at peace with that. Such things are, after all, inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, when you take into consideration the size of the Universe. Very few people do that. Some would argue that No One does. Those people may be right. 

As You enter the forest, You notice that the remaining light from the Sun is blocked off very well. This is, after all, a very, very thick forest. You look around and notice that You can see very little. What You do see, that You can make out, does not surprise You. There are trees. There is underbrush. There is the trail that You are following to the waterfall. There is also something else. Something that You cannot see. You continue on your way.

As You continue your walk, deep in reflection, You  check to see that No One is still around. You decide that that is indeed the case. 

You remember back to the time when You and your Significant Other truly had reached adulthood, both in age and maturity. This, at least in your mind, was the next chapter in your relationship cycle. This was an easy one. Sure, there may have been issues from time to time, but there were very few fights. You were still young, yes, but You were also confident and optimistic. Nothing in this world could bring You down. You started that career that You had been working toward, and it was, as far as You could tell then, everything You had hoped for. There was, however, a small downside to that career: it was in another part of the country. In order for You to pursue it, your Significant Other had to agree to move. Of course, they did. Why wouldn’t they?

“We were inseparable and in love.” You say. And You are right. 

Both of you had grown up in a large city. That made for a drastic change when you moved for your career. The offer that You got was in the middle of Nowhere. The two of you lived basically in isolation for two whole years. As You walk, now, You try hard, using your not-as-sharp-as-it-used-to-be memory, to remember any person that you met while in the middle of Nowhere. You think of No One.

“It was nice, though, wasn’t it?” You once again hear Yourself say.

“It wasn’t terrible.” You reply, “At least we were happy.”

Things got complicated after that, though didn’t they?

“You can say that, again.” 

“Say what?” You ask Yourself, but No One replies.

“Right.” You say, mostly to Yourself.

Toward the end of that time, in the middle of Nowhere, your Significant Other started to show signs of unhappiness. It started with nothing but a somber mood, and, truth be told, You didn’t notice it right away. Looking back, You should have, but You didn’t. Over several months, it progressed, under your not-so-watchful eye. 

Then, the conversation came.

“I want us to move.” You remember them saying.

“Why?” You asked, completely taken by surprise, “Things are going really well for us here.”

“No, they aren’t,” They say, “They are going well for you. I am miserable. I need to be closer to a city; I need to be closer to my family.”

“We loved each other, so I did what was asked of me.” You say to No One in particular. No One listens. 

A few months later, You found Yourself in The City. The very city that You lived in all the way up to the birth of The Kid. 

During your time in The City, You really got to know Yourself. You spent hours a week just learning about Yourself. You began to like Yourself. You began to feel comfortable just being with Yourself. Your Significant Other didn’t understand that. Why would you spend so little time with them?

“I just preferred it that that way.” You say. And You did.

You wait for someone to ask You to elaborate. No One does.

“It was a complicated time, but I was happy.”

Then, The Kid

You come to a bend in your path that overlooks a river. You walk up to the edge, take off your backpack, and find, in a small pocket, what You were looking for. You pull out a pack of cigarettes. You light one and lean against a tree. 

You had told your Significant Other that You had stopped smoking years ago, but that isn’t exactly true, obviously.

I have cut back a lot, though.” You say, and that is exactly true. You used to literally burn through a pack a day. Now, You smoke one cigarette, once in a while, when You know that You won’t be caught. You keep them hidden in your sock drawer. Honestly, You are surprised that your Significant Other has never found them in all this time. At first, You thought they would, but they never did, so now, that drawer has become the place of many, many secrets. The pack of cigarettes was the first of two of those secrets that You brought with You, but You will get to the other one when the time is right. 

You are looking up and down the river, at least as far as You can see. It’s quiet and dark. 

”Couldn’t even tell the sun had gone down in all that tree cover.” You hear Yourself say.

“Nope,” You respond, “Probably better keep moving.”

You toss the remainder of your cigarette onto the ground and turn to begin back on your path. As You do, you hear a sudden cracking of sticks and twigs near You. It frightens You. You spin around frantically. You think You see something. Is it Someone? You wouldn’t expect Someone to be out here at this time of night, but You never know, do You?

“No, I guess I don’t.” You whisper.

You see an oddly shaped shadow across the path from You, near a tree. It looks like Someone. 

“Hello?” You call out, cautiously.

There is no answer. 

You slowly approach the shadow, nervous of what might come next. 

As You get closer, You realize. It isn’t Someone. In fact, it isn’t a person, or creature, at all, at least, not a live one. It’s a sign cut into the shape of a monster. Specifically, the rumored “Laguna Waterfall Monster”.

The sign is cut and painted to look like the “monster”. Also on the sign, is a brief history of “sightings” of the monster along the trail that You are walking. You pull out your cellphone, turn the camera light on, and read the sign, in its entirety. At the bottom of the sign is a picture of the monster’s supposed egg that it lays. The egg in the picture is shaped the normal way an egg is typically shaped, but its color is mostly a deep, midnight blue, with swirls of black, purple, pink and red. The sign says that these eggs are often spotted along the trail and are free to keep, if You find them.

“How ridiculous.” You say. 

No One agrees.

Again, You hear the crackling of twigs somewhere near You. You spin around to see what it is, when suddenly, your favorite song starts blaring out of nowhere! 

Well, not really out of nowhere, is it? You feel a slight vibration in your hand, and You look down. Your phone is ringing. On the screen, is a picture of your Significant Other, holding The Kid. You begin to feel very emotional and quickly decline the call.

You take a deep breath, looking around for Someone. You see No One.

“Calm down.”

You take another deep breath, but just then, You feel the vibration of your phone, again. 

It’s a text message from your Significant Other: Just wanted to make sure everything is okay. Where did you go?

In response, You throw your phone into the brush.

“Now, they’ll worry,” You hear Yourself say quietly.

“Good,” You say.

You begin walking down the path, again, more determined than ever to see that waterfall. As You do, You begin to think of The Kid. That time in your life was particularly cyclical for your relationship with your Significant Other. When The Kid was first born, times were tough. You had to learn a whole new way to live. There were late nights and early mornings. There were fights over which parent was in charge of which duty at which times. There was also great happiness. That was when your Significant Other made a second location ask of You. They felt that Suburbia would be much better for The Kid.

“I agreed with that, too.” You say.

“The City is no place for a child,” You hear Yourself say, “It was the best for everyone.”

And it was. You know that. And You aren’t that far from The City. At first, You loved it; don’t try and say You didn’t. You got a house, your house, which is much bigger than anything You could’ve afforded in The City, and it was near two parks. This park, which You always wanted to visit but somehow never did, and also another park. That park has playground equipment, an open field, and a basketball court. You have been to that park, haven’t you? Yes, of course.

You think back to all the afternoons You spent at that park with your Significant Other and The Kid. Those were some of your most fond memories. You remember the first time The Kid went down the slide. Although, your Significant Other was not there that day. And a good thing, too, because The Kid went down it by accident. They were walking along the jungle gym and just slipped. You tried to catch them, but You weren’t fast enough, and down they went.

You thought that The Kid would cry, but they didn’t. Later, You would tell your friends that You knew The Kid wouldn’t cry. 

“Tough as nails, just like us.” You said with a laugh. Later, once The Kid reached adulthood, You found out how true that was.

Quickly, You think of another memory. You think of all the sports games that The Kid played there. They loved sports, all of them.  That was good, though, because the fact was that The Kid was pretty good at all of them. They could’ve gotten a sports scholarship to any school, if they had wanted to, but not every person is made for college, and The Kid was one of those who were not. The shock of that realization was pretty big to You, at the time.

“After all of the trouble we had had through the horrible teen years,” You begin, “I just thought the decision not to go to college was another form of rebellion.” But, it wasn’t. It just wasn’t the right path for them. You know that, now.

You’ve walked a ways, now, since You read that sign, and hadn’t really been paying much attention, but now, another sign catches your eye. This sign isn’t big, like the last one. In fact, it is really quite small. You approach it, trying to read it. You reach for your phone before realizing that You no longer have it. 

“What the hell does that say?” You ask, squinting in the dark.

You get really close to the sign, now, squatting down to get a better look. You read the sign. 

The sign tells You that you are entering the zone in which the Laguna Waterfall Monster eggs are typically found. You laugh out loud.

“Does anyone believe this crap?” You ask.

No One answers.

“Maybe the park rangers planted some around here.” You hear Yourself say.

It probably wouldn’t hurt to look. 

So, You start wandering around, meandering back and forth across the path, to its edges. It’s hard to see, but You don’t think You see anything. 

As You search for monster eggs, You think about The Kid’s senior year in high school. That year seemed to be a cleansing one. The Kid seemed to let go of the typically-teen behavior and attitude issues and replaced them with a great excitement of the unknown. The Kid had lived in the same house, in the same neighborhood, and went to the same schools their whole life. There was so much to do and see as adulthood and true independence approached. How could anyone resist that? You felt the same way, at that age, after all. 

“I really enjoyed that time,” You say, “We got swept up in the excitement, too.” 

Most of the good family photos in your home are from that year. You spent so much time with The Kid, because You knew once that year was over, they would be gone. Eventually, that was proven true. Senior year ended. The Kid decided to go off and try to live their life, and soon, they were gone, and You knew that they were never coming back. It wasn’t your fault, You know that. It wasn’t because of all the fights that you had, or that they hated You. Sometimes life just does that. Now, You and your Significant Other are left there, alone.

Soon, you approach another sign. This sign is facing away from You. You walk around to read it. It is the same sign that You saw a few minutes before. You must be out of the egg zone.

“I knew this was stupid.” You hear Yourself say. 

“Maybe tourists already picked them all up,” You reply, “Or maybe, they only put them out in the summer. It’s too cold for any sane person to be out here this time of year. 

No One disagrees.

You continue your walk, and before long, You come to a fork in the path. A handy sign tells You to go to the right. You oblige.

“Have to be getting close now.”

The forest becomes less quiet than it was. You hear leaves scattering, sticks breaking, and other noises that you can’t figure out. It sounds like there is an army chasing You.

“It’s just the wind.” You say to Yourself, and You believe that, although, You don’t feel any more wind, and You don’t feel any colder. But, of course, it’s the wind. 

“Of course.” You hear Yourself say, nervously. You begin to walk quickly.

There was an old joke your parents used to always make when you were getting ready to embark out on your own. The joke always came up in a conversation with other parents. The conversation usually followed the same pattern.

“Well, now that you and your spouse will have the house to yourselves, what are you going to do?” a friend’s parent would ask.

“I guess,” one of your parents would reply, “After this many years with kids to occupy our time, the first thing we should do is find out if we even like each other.”

And all the parents would laugh. And You would laugh, too, because You thought it was the funniest joke in the world. What You didn’t know, and what You would only realize much later, was that there was a real truth to those words. You suppose that the joke was told just to cover up the nervousness that your parents, and maybe all parents, felt during that life changing event. You certainly felt that way. 

“What’s the answer?”

“Hmm?” You ask.

“The answer. Do the two of you still like each other?” 

“Sometimes,” You reply, “Well, most times.”

You pause.

“Just not always.” You continue, “I guess that’s why I’m out here, tonight.”

Suddenly, there’s a loud crashing sound. You spin around to see where it came from. There’s a fallen tree maybe forty yards behind You.

“What the hell?” You ask Yourself.

“That was weird.” You hear Yourself say. 

You listen very intently. You wait to see what You hear. After a moment, You realize that You do hear something.
“What is that?”

It’s the sound of rushing water. You begin to relax. Your journey is almost over. You start to sprint toward the sound. You run a ways and start to feel tired. Just as You start to think that You can’t run any more, You spot the clearing at the end of the path that leads You to the waterfall.

As You enter the clearing, You are awestruck. It is the most beautiful sight that You have ever seen. 

“This is perfect.” You say. 

No One agrees. 

You slowly walk forward. The noise of the waterfall and the sounds of the forest are extremely loud, but You don’t hear any of that. 

You get to the end of the path, which leads to the river that is the continuation of the bottom of the waterfall. You kneel down, open your backpack, and reveal the second secret from your sock drawer.

“This is the perfect spot,” You hear Yourself say.

“I knew it would be.” You say.

The second secret, unlike the cigarettes, is something that your Significant Other never knew You had. You got it a few months ago while they were out of town for the week. It feels heavier than You remember. You look around to see if there is anyone watching. No One is.  

“It’s time.”

And it is.

You look down at the revolver in your hand. All noise in the forest has stopped. Your life flashes before your eyes, and You feel at peace. This is going to be beautiful. You half expect Someone to rush through the forest. For them to tell You that You are making a bad decision, but they aren’t coming.

You stand up, tears of happiness and relief in your eyes. You look at the waterfall, wanting it to be the last thing that You ever see, and put the barrel of the gun in your mouth.

“This is the end.” You hear Yourself say, “It’s been a ride.”

You squeeze the trigger.

And all You hear is a click.

You look down at the gun, not surprised. You open the cylinder and see a single bullet in it. 

“Maybe next time.” You say, sadly.

No One consoles You.

You turn away from the waterfall to make your way back down the path, back home. And as You do so, You trip over something and fall forward, onto your face. You look back to see what it was that tripped You, and You see what looks, in the night, like a large rock. 

You move closer to it and realize that it isn’t just a rock, but rather a large, egg-shaped object, midnight blue, with swirls of other colors. You pick it up and begin to chuckle. 

“Apparently, the park rangers left one of these, after all.” You say to Yourself.

“Lucky day,” You hear Yourself say.

You stuff the egg in your backpack, along with the revolver, and start your journey home, alone.

***

When You arrive home, your Significant Other is in the dining room, preparing for your dinner guests. You quietly remove your keys from your pocket, not wanting to be heard, and place them in the dish on the small table in your foyer. On that table are only three items: that dish, a picture of The Kid in dress blues, and a folded flag with a medal.

You make your way upstairs and into your bedroom, where You plan to undress and take a shower. First, though, You make your way to your dresser and open your sock drawer. After removing socks from it, You find your secrets. You place the pack of cigarettes and revolver among them, replace all but one of those pairs of socks, and close the drawer. 

You pause for a moment, and then decide to remove the egg from the backpack and place it atop the dresser. You think it looks good as a decoration.

You then go and take your shower. 

You arrive downstairs just as guests are arriving. You and your Significant Other greet them warmly, wrapping an arm around each other. 

You think about that for a moment, as the group begins their idle small talk. Both the most infuriating, and the most depressing part of tonight is the fact that all of your closest friends will be with you tonight, and not one of them will notice the fact that You and your Significant Other are fighting. They won’t notice the subtle digs that the two of you make at each other, or the sarcastic smiles and false niceties. They won’t notice any of that, because the worst part of Suburbia is that nobody really cares about anyone but themselves. Everyone is too self-involved and worried about their own problems to notice the obvious around them. 

So you play along, and smile, but let’s just be clear with each other. You. Hate. Them. All.

Upstairs, on your dresser, lays The Egg you put there for decoration. 

The egg wiggles, slightly, and cracks.

No One sees it.