Aurora walks toward the waterfall, her fingers gliding over the moss-covered stones on the side. "It's your decision," she says.
It's your decision, echoes in me.
She stretches her toes into the rushing water, and a squeak escapes her mouth before she steps into the water basin between the stones at the foot of the waterfall with a sharp intake of breath. She turns to look at me, her eyes filled with significance, and my foolish heart skips a beat.
Then she steps backward under the waterfall, becoming soaked within seconds.
With trembling lips and a penetrating gaze, she stands there. Water droplets bead on her beautiful face, bouncing off her bony shoulders, flowing like a raging river between her breasts.
"This is amazing!" she calls out over the sound of the water, extending her arms shakily.
I study her face intently. Nothing in her expression is defiant.
Could this actually be true? Or is she pretending?
I have no idea. All I know is that a part of me longs to do it.
This part wants to experience what I looked forward to so much back then. It wants to be who I always wanted to be. It wants to live again and to hope again.
I could shower under this waterfall. What would it matter? It doesn't mean anything, anyway.
"It won't change anything," I quickly say. She needs to know this; I don't want to raise false expectations.
She nods wistfully. "I know."
Hesitantly, I unbutton my shirt, let my jeans fall to the ground, and approach the waterfall.
With each step, the glimmer in Aurora's eyes intensifies. It's as if a force of nature is taking possession of me, but the prison bars behind which I locked my heart hold firm.
Then I dip my feet into the cool water. Goose bumps spread rapidly across my body. I wade toward Aurora and only stop when I feel the water droplets bouncing off her shoulders onto my skin.
"It won't change anything," I say again, more for myself than for her. Then I step under the waterfall alongside her.
The cool torrent tingles on my skin, and I can't help but let out a shout. Aurora joins in, and for a moment, it feels like I'm screaming out all the burdens of the past years.
I want to let go of all of this.
I want to start anew.
It's only a moment when everything seems possible. But as soon as we finish our waterfall shower, I realize once again that it was an illusion. "Just because we lived a memory together doesn't mean that..." I begin.
She raises her hand. "Absolutely not."
I look at her in surprise. The Aurora of the past would have grinned challengingly now and cheekily claimed that I was mistaken. The Aurora of today quietly walks over to her backpack, takes out towels, and hands one to me.
Thoughtfully, I take it from her. I'm not quite sure what this is all supposed to be about, but I feel it could be about more than lost memories.
Wait a minute.
Is this really true, or is it just what I want to believe? While I desperately try to distinguish between dream and reality, Aurora reaches into her backpack again. She takes out a small screw-top jar and fills it with water from the waterfall. "For the memory box," she says with a smile.
So it's all about the memories and nothing more. Although it shouldn't, disappointment spreads through me. "Do whatever you want," I say with a harsh tone. "I have to go now, anyway."
She gasps. "You promised me three hours," she quickly replies.
That's true. And I shouldn't be surprised that she insists on it. She is who she is.
Shaking my head, I watch her securely store the screw-top jar and produce something from the fabric in her backpack.
