Freedom

Normal, perfectly fictional, but far too normal. Her life was almost like a dream. She had everything anyone could ever want. Her career was perfect. Everyone loved her. She could make her own hours and attend it whenever she wanted. She could come home to her beautiful three story house in the sunlit town of Newport Beach, California. She could come home to a gorgeous, loving, and faithful husband who could provide the perfect life. Beautiful kids, a beautiful house, and endless amounts of the one thing pretty much everyone longed for the most, the American dollar. She had it all. There was one peculiar question, however, that everyone thought they could answer, but in reality, they, including her, had not an idea. She was stuck in a world she did not belong in. Her life was perfect, indeed, but too routine. She wanted diversity. She wanted adventure. She wanted freedom. She just had to muster up the courage to pursue her one and only dream. To be free.

The crisp, cool night air kissed her face as she walked. Cool, yet comfortable. She had no destination. She liked that. It was invigorating. Not knowing what awaited her travels. A ghost of a smile graced her soft, pink lips at the thought of not being able to think about what she’ll do when she gets to her destination or what she’ll say to the people she knows she’ll have to talk to. She didn’t know where she’d be ten minutes from now. She didn’t know who she’d see, or talk to. The unknown thrilled her. The even better thought, though, was that she didn’t have to talk to anyone. It seemed as though her life was filled with obligations and responsibilities. The best part of tonight, was that there was none of that. No spouse, no coworkers, no friends, no family, no acquaintances, no enemies, no cell phone, no e-mail, nothing. Just her, the night air that filled her lungs, the clothes on her back, and the smell of the ocean to provide her with comfort. She was happy. She forgot what that felt like.

Turning a corner, she took a deep breath, thinking of how much she wanted to savor this. Tomorrow, she’d have to wake up for work, and repeat the same routine she’s been living out for the past several years. She stopped when she reached a dead end. There lied what looked to be a dense forest. The woods. She knew it probably wasn’t the best or safest idea to enter them, but something compelled her to. There was a dirt path, so obviously it was made for people to walk on. She sighed, set aside her morals, and walked. The dark green leaves waved at her in the friendliest way that leaves could. She smiled. Leaves waving. She snickered. She might’ve been a bit mad. And tonight, it was okay to be a bit mad, insane even.

Seventy-three. She’d kicked a white rock seventy-three times since she had entered the woods. Seventy-seven. Seventy-eight. Eighty. And then she stopped. She stopped kicking the rock. She stopped walking. It was so calming. It wasn’t much. Well, to anyone else it wouldn’t have been. To her, though, it was golden. The tree would’ve been ugly to a normal person. She laughed. Normal. That was the worst word to ever be used to describe her. The tree. Not her. The tree. It was huge. The trunk was thick and bumpy. It stretched upwards like any other tree, but then suddenly, at the middle it split in two. The two different parts of the trunk swerved in curves, not quite straight and a bit hectic, but still together, infused and twisted. They morphed into each other, never letting go. They had a bond like no other. Then they split into many different tiny branches. The leaves hanging from each branch were a mossy green color. They swayed and danced in the wind. Little white flowers blossomed and hung in the air. Still. Until each little white petal fluttered down to the ground. Whenever a gust of wind flew by, little white petals would fall. It was gorgeous. And that was just the tree. There was a small pond right beside the tree. The tree loomed over the pond, casting it’s large shadow over the water. Little frogs hopped in and out of the pond. The tree looked like it was sort of protecting the pond and the frogs. Then, a sort of warped looking, wooden bench sat itself by the tree, in front of the pond. It was the perfect getaway for when you couldn’t hop on a plane. It held a true beauty. One that tourists couldn’t imagine. She wanted to walk forward, to sit on the bench, to touch one of the little white flowers, to dip a finger in the blue waters of the pond, but she didn’t. She just stared, in awe. Had it not been for the crack behind her, she would’ve been in the same position for the next twenty minutes. She swiftly turned around, her eyes scanning the trees for any sign of life.

“Tranquility.”

She turned back around. Her head swerved from side to side, searching to see where that voice came from. She didn’t necessarily feel fear. She was anxious, curious. But not frightened.

A tall figure stepped out from the shadows. She could barely see him though. From what she could see, he stood at an average height. About 5’9” or 5’10”. He had broad shoulders, and muscular arms. A thick waist, not fat, just thick. He was standing, with his hands in his pockets, his head bent downward. He took a step forward. She jumped back, despite fear not being a factor of her feelings.

He chuckled, “Sorry.”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t used to this. The unknown was thrilling, yes. Strangers were a bit much for a beginner to this whole freedom deal, though.

“I mean no harm,” He reasoned.

She still took a tiny step back.

“No? I come in peace?” He tried again.

She, again, took another tiny step backwards.

“I’m not a crazy rapist that’s looking to lure you in and take your dignity?” He laughed.

She stopped, suddenly, any doubts she may have had leaving her body at once.

“There we go,” She could hear the slight smile in his voice.

His voice. Deep and strong, yet soothing.

This time, she took a step forward. Tiny, the step was, but still a step all the same.

“Y-your turn,” She stuttered.

She didn’t know why she stuttered. She wasn’t nervous, that’s just how it came out.

He hummed in confirmation, it was indeed his turn. And so, the mysterious figure stepped forward, a big step, much bigger than hers. Then another, and another, until she was able to see the intricate details of his form. The moonlight illuminated his facial features, allowing her to study them carefully.

He had these adorable chubby cheeks. Again, not fat. His ivory skin seemed to shimmer under the pale moonlight. His relatively short, dark brown hair was pushed back on his head. His eyebrows arched over his big, light green eyes, which also seemed to shimmer. His nose hung over his plump, full set of lips, in which the bottom one was caught between his teeth. Diamond earrings adorned his ears. His tattoos seemed never ending. His arms, his neck, his fingers. She took the time to study them. What she recognized to be the Angels logo was tattooed on his neck. She couldn’t recognize the pictures on his arms, though. His torso was covered in a plain white T-shirt, and a pair of tight grey jeans clung to his legs. Black and red shoes covered his feet.

She looked back up to his face to see a slight smile stretching across his lips.

“What?” She asked, a little more comfortable now.

“You’re staring at me,” He laughed.

“Yes. Yes, I am,” She nodded, “but you were staring at me too.”

He hummed, “But you were staring at me."

“Is there a difference?” She looked confused.

“Yes, a big one.”

She relaxed more, walking forward to take a seat on the bench.

“Okay,” She didn’t question him.

His face contorted in confusion.

“I really don’t mean to sound cliché, but what is a pretty girl like you doing out so late at night, in the woods, all alone?” He asked, one side of his mouth lifting in a half smile.

She looked at the white watch on her small wrist, “It’s...9:03. I don’t consider that too late.”

He raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

“Your purpose?”

She paused, not quite knowing how to answer that. Freedom, is what she wanted to say. However, she felt that might be a bit too vague, broad.

He nodded.

“What?” She defended.

He chuckled.

She stood at once.

“What’s your problem, Smiley?” She folded her arms.

He laughed again, this time more audibly, “You don’t really know. I get it. You don’t really have to have a purpose for being here. I wasn’t asking what your purpose was, I was asking if you had one.”

This time, it was she who nodded.

She slowly sat back down. She smiled, with no purpose. He slowly, but surely took a step forward, sort of like asking if he could sit beside her, without speaking.

She half nodded in response. His lips twitched in a short-lived smile, as if to thank her. He sat down beside her, not too close, but comfortable.

“What about you?” She asked, “What’s yo- Well, do you have a purpose?”

He breathed out, and shook his head.

“No. No, I do not have a purpose.”

She looked down at her nails. Perfectly painted a dull purple color. She suddenly wanted them to be red. Or blue. And chipped. Chipped, or even bitten, she didn’t really know. Just, something not so normal, and perfect. She looked up, to find him doing the same, looking at his nails.

“Why’re nails so gender orientated?” She huffed.

“Excuse me?” He chuckled.

She swallowed, “Like, why do guys have to have such plain and boring nails, and why is it sometimes considered unattractive when girls nails aren’t perfectly painted? Why.. Why can’t guys paint their nails blue? Why can’t girls have unbelievable short and dirty nails sometimes?”

He blinked.

“I’m sorry,” She looked down again.

“Why? That was empowering,” He reassured her.

She looked up in confusion, “Empowering? I was talking about nails.”

“You weren’t just talking about nails. There was more to that. See, I read between the lines,” He smiled.

She blinked.

He sighed, “I could’ve just said, ‘because that’s how society is today,’ and called it a day, but I didn’t. I explored your little outburst. I made more of it. I understood you, or at least made an effort to. You wanted to know why society is so judgmental, pretty much.”

She blinked, again.

“You blink a lot,” He said, looking away.

“I’m sorry.”

“You also apologize a lot,” He laughed.

She stood up, abruptly, “Why am I even talking to you? I don’t even know you! A-And what do you know about my purpose o-or anything for that matter?”

She turned around, and started pacing.

“Since when did you have to know someone to have a deep conversation with them?”

She stopped pacing, and sat back down.

Neither of them talked for about ten minutes. They just sat there, not saying a word, just enjoying the cool night air, the frogs, the pond, the tree, the not-so-silent, silence. The air wasn’t uncomfortable, and there was no tension, or awkwardness. They both, however, had racing minds. She just wanted to bombard him with questions, as if he could answer each one of them with the perfectly correct response, but she didn’t. She wanted to touch him, to see if he was even real, but she didn’t. She wanted to vent her opinions to him, but again, she didn’t.

“Tranquility,’ She finally spoke.

“Indeed.”

“What did you mean by that?” She asked.

“I was watching you stare at this for quite a while before I chose to speak. I didn’t mean to just stare like a creep, but I was just watching someone’s reaction to all of this for the first time ever. I could only imagine what my face looked like the first time I saw this, and to actually see someone else experience it was amazing. Then I accidentally stepped on a twig and ruined it all,” He chuckled at the last part.

“It’s so calm and peaceful out here, I’m so baffled as to how I could’ve missed this all these years I’ve been in Newport,” She shook her head.

“No one would expect this to be out here, that’s why I love it. I guess that’s my purpose. It’s so unknown and away from all the hectic bullshit. It has a sort of innocence about it, y’know?” He breathed.

“Yeah, I know. I know..” She trailed off.

“What’s on your mind?” He spoke.

She took a while to answer. She wanted to think about how she’d respond, long and hard. This man would have to wait. She could tell him about her life, and the normality, and the world she was stuck in. She could tell him about how this wasn’t her, and about the peculiar question. Or, she could go with the simpler thought. She could tell him how she wanted to sleep out here one night, if it was safe enough, she could tell him how she wanted to know about his tattoos. Either one wouldn’t be a lie.

“You have a choice.”

He raised an eyebrow at her response.

“You can either pick response one or two,” She explained.

He nodded and smiled.

“I’m guessing one response is what lies in the back of your mind, the thoughts that are so deep that they rack your brain everyday. The other is probably the bullshit, small talk response that I really wasn’t asking about, but would still like to hear at a later date. So I’m going to go with which ever response is the first one.”

She frowned, “You figured me out.”

He nodded in agreement.

“Well, my life is perfect. I’m a writer. I have five ‘New York Times Best-selling’ books, a flawless husband, a huge house, and great friends that never do me harm. I have everything I thought I ever wanted.”

“It’s too perfect, I gotcha,” He nodded.

“Exactly,” She looked up in awe, “that’s exactly it."

He gave her an odd look, “Did you expect me to look at you like you grew another nose?”

She almost laughed. Almost.

“Yeah,” She sighed, “I wanted to have some sort of unusual diversity, some complications, even tragedy. I don’t know, something out of the ordinary.”

“Freedom.”

She nodded.

“That wasn’t so hard.”

She smiled, “No, I guess it wasn’t.”

“I just want to run away one day. I just want to hop on a plane and go to Hawaii, or Sweden, or Finland, or Switzerland. I want to go, and be reckless, and have fun, and then come back and confuse everyone like nothing ever happened,” She stared out into the distance.

He let out a loud laugh, “Interesting.”

She laughed with him. And they both just sat there, laughing with each other. They talked. They talked about crazy things that nobody would’ve normally talked about. They talked about the unknown, and why guys couldn't paint their nails red or blue, and why dogs couldn’t sit at the table, and why screaming or singing really loudly in public wasn’t socially acceptable. They talked, and laughed, and acted rude and socially unacceptable. But it was okay.

They were just coming down from a laughing high. They both sighed.

“So, who are you?” He smiled.

“I'm a girl.”

He laughed, “Yes, I can see a girl. But who is she?”

“That’s a peculiar question. No one can really answer that, even though they all think they can.”

He nodded, “Can you?”

“Nope. No, can’t say I can,” She shook her head.

She tucked a lock of long ebony hair behind her ear.

“I can’t answer it, and I like that,” He smiled.

“Why?”

“Mystery is thrilling to me.”

It was now 10:46, and she would still have to get up for work in the morning. She would have to go back to her normal life. He knew this was coming to an end now.

“Keep your life normal, it leaves the abnormal to have a purpose,” He assured her.

She nodded, “This had a purpose, I know it did. Us meeting. Talking. And who knows? Maybe we’ll bump into each other again one day..” She trailed.

He nodded and smiled.

She grinned, and walked off. She wasn’t able to answer the peculiar question. She wasn’t able to turn her normal life into something more invigorating. But she left, content with that fact. That was the purpose of her temporary freedom. She would get a taste of freedom occasionally, she now knew that. The answer to the peculiar question wasn’t quite an answer, but a mere personal preference.

Who do you want her to be?