The Descent

'They  can come, too. But they've  given up. Ali, don't  give  up.'  He  was  fervent.  'Come with me.'

This was for her alone, like the light.

'I'm  sorry,'  she  said.  'You're  different.  I'm  like  them,  though.  I'm  tired.  I  want  to stay  here.'

He twisted  his head away.

'I know you think I'm being complacent,' she said.

'We don't have  to die,' Ike  said.  'No  matter  what  happens  to  them,  we  don't  have  to die here.' He was adamant. It  did not escape her that he spoke to her as 'we.'

'Ike,' she said, and stopped. She had  fasted  in  her  day,  and  knew  it  was  too  soon  for the euphoria to be addling her. But her sense of contentment was rich.

'We can get out of here,' he urged.

'You've  brought us as far as we can go,' she said.  'You've  done  everything  we  set  out to  do.  We've  made  our  discoveries.  We  know  that  a  great  empire  once  existed  down here. Now it's over.'

'Come with me, Ali.'

'We have  no food.'

His  eyes  shifted  ever  so  slightly,  a  side  glance,  nothing  more.  He  said  nothing,  but something  about  his  silence  contradicted  her.  He  knew  where  there  was  food?  It jarred her.

His  canniness  darted  before  her  like  a  wild  animal.  I  am  not  you,  it  said.  Then  his

glance straightened and he was one of them again.

She finished. 'I'm grateful for what you've  accomplished  for  us.  Now  we  just  want  to come to terms  with where  we've  gotten in  our  lives.  Let  us  make  our  peace,'  she  said.

'You have  no reason to stay  here anymore. You should go.'

There,  she  thought.  All  of  her  nobleness  in  a  cup.  Now  it  was  his  turn.  He  would resist gallantly. He was Ike.

'I will,' he said.

A frown spoiled her brow. 'You're leaving?' she blurted, and immediately  wished  she hadn't. But still, he was leaving them?  Leaving her?

'I  thought  about  staying,'  he  said.  'I  thought  how  romantic  it  would  be.  I  imagined how  people  might  find  us  ten  years  from  now.  There  would  be  you.  And  there  would be me.'

Ali blinked. The  truth  was, she'd imagined the same scene.

'And they  would find me holding  you,'  he  said.  'Because  that's  what  I  would  do  after you died, Ali. I would hold you in my  arms forever.'

'Ike,'   she   said,  and  stopped   again.  Suddenly   she   was   incapable   of   more   than monosyllables.

'That would be legal, I think. You wouldn't be Christ's bride after  you died, right?  He could have  your  soul. I could have  what was left.'

That  was  a  bit  morbid,  yet  nonetheless  the  truth.  'If  you're  asking  my  permission,' she said, 'the answer is yes.'  Yes,  he could hold her. In her imagination, it had been  the other  way  around.  He  had  died  first  and  she  had  held  him.  But  it  was  all  the  same concept.

'The problem is,' he continued, 'I  thought  about  it  some  more.  And  to  put  it  bluntly, I decided it was a pretty  raw deal for me.'

She let her gaze drift around the glowing room.

'I'd get you,' he answered  himself, 'too late.'

Good-bye,  Ike,  she thought. It  was just a matter  of saying the words now.

'This isn't easy,'  he said.

'I know.' Vaya con Dios.

'No,' he said. 'I don't think you do.'

'It's okay.'

'No,  it's  not,'  he  said.  'It  would  break  my  heart.  It  would  kill  me.'  He  licked  his  lips. He took the leap. 'To have  waited too late with you.'

Her eyes  sprang upon him.

Her  surprise  alarmed  him.  'I  should  be  able  to  say  it,  if  I'm  going  to  stay,'  he defended himself. 'Can't I even  say  that much?'

'Say what, Ike?'  Her voice sounded far away  to her.

'I've  said enough.'

'It's mutual, you know.' Mutual? That  was the best  she could offer?

'I  know,'  he  said.  'You  love  me,  too.  And  all  God's  creatures.'  He  crossed  himself, gently mocking.

'Stop,' she said.

'Forget it,' he said, and his eyes  closed in that marauded face. It  was up to her to break  this impasse.

No more ghosts. No more imagination. No more dead lovers:  her Christ, his Kora.

As  her  hand  reached  out,  it  was  like  watching  herself  from  a  great  distance.  They might have  been someone else's fingers, except  they  were  hers. She touched his head. Ike  recoiled from her touch. Instantly,  Ali could see how sure  he  was  she  pitied  him. Once  upon  a  time,  with  a  face  untarnished  and  young,  that  might  not  have  been  a consideration.  But  he  was  wary  and  filled  with  his  own  repulsiveness.  Naturally  he would distrust a touch.

Ali had not done this forever,  it seemed. It  could  have  felt  clumsy  or  foolish  or  false.

If  she  had  contrived  it  in  any  way,  given  the  slightest  thought  to  it  beforehand,  it would  have  failed.  Which  was  not  to  say  her  hands  were  steady  as  she  opened  her buttons and slid her shoulders bare. She let the clothing drop, all of it.