The End of the World

“There is no one so indecisive as the sea.”

“What do you mean?” Adi asked.

“Well, the sea rushes out and away from us- from the land. But then she comes quickly back, as if she fears her own depths. And then just as quickly, she flees the land again! When will she make up her mind?”

Adi laughed and put his arm around his sister. “Kusuma, I do not think that the sea knows what it does. It’s not alive.”

“Not alive?” she asked incredulously. “Don’t you hear her breathing? Close your eyes. Listen. Go on, close them.” When Kusuma saw that his eyes were closed, she closed hers, too. The sunshine poured down on the two adolescents, its bright light glowing warm above their eyelids, turning them a sleepy orange. Kusuma wiggled her toes in the sand, feeling the tiny white grains between them, and listened closely. The sound of the waves washed over them, rhythmic, eternal, like one breath after another.

“She is happy today,” Adi said. “Her breath is calm and slow, as if she is dreaming.”

“Ah!” Kusuma exclaimed, opening her eyes. “So you believe it, too!”

Adi laughed. “No, I can’t say I do. But it’s a pretty picture all the same.”

“Pssh. You don’t believe in anything exciting.”

“That’s not true. I do.”

“Like what?” she asked.

Adi was quiet as he watched the sea. “What do you think is out there?” He asked, looking into her eyes.

“Out where?”

“Out there,” Adi replied, nodding to the horizon. “Where does the sea end?”

They both looked out at the water that stretched in front of them. In the distance, it embraced the sky. Blue on blue. “You know what they say,” she replied. “It stretches out to the edge, and then it ends.”

“The edge. Into the heavens or an abyss or… nothing,” he said. Kusuma shuttered. “But I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“You said it yourself. The sea can’t make up its mind. It keeps coming back to us. If the world ends and disappears into nothing, then it would have no choice.”

“No choice?”

“Yes, no choice. No choice but to fall off the edge and fall forever. Don’t you agree?”

Kusuma squinted her eyes, staring harder into the distance. “I don’t know…”

“Well, I plan to.”

“Plan to what?”

“I plan to know, of course.”

“What do you mean?”

“I go fishing with Pop every morning and I never see the edge. I’m going to take the fishing boat and go see for myself. I’m going to go see if there’s an edge.”

“What!?” She shrieked, jumping up to her feet. “You can’t do that! You can’t!”

Adi laughed and leaned back on his elbows in the sand. “Kusuma,” he said with a grin. “I am surprised at you.”

“How can you tell me something like this and stay so calm?”

“What are you afraid of? What could happen?”

“You could fall off the edge of the world, Adi. That’s not exactly ‘nothing’.”

“You don’t really believe that, do you?”

“Yes!”

Adi tried not to laugh at the way her voice squeaked nervously. “Why?”

“Because!” She answered incredulously, folding her arms across her chest and staring at him in amazement. “It’s what they all say! There must be some reason. They can’t all be wrong.”

“Can’t they?”

She shook her head. Her skin was tingling with nervous energy.

He shrugged. “Who has ever gone to look? Who really knows? They all just… assume. We know the sun will rise tomorrow because it has risen every day we’ve ever lived, but who knows what lays beyond?” His sister was quiet. “Come with me.”

Again, she shook her head. “A flower belongs on the land.”

Adi sighed. “Then I’ll see you when I get back.” He turned and ran toward the small fishing boat. His little sister screamed and ran after him, but he was already pushing the boat into the water before she could reach him.

“Don’t go!”

“But I must!”

She cupped her hands around her mouth, hoping he would hear her over the waves. “Why? Don’t we live a life wonderful enough here, where we are?”

“What if we are alone in this world? What if we are not?” He yelled back. “Would you really like to live your whole life not knowing?” The sound of the waves crashing mingled with his voice and, as the gentle breeze caught in the sail, the boat rushed deeper into the sea. The distance softened the blow of the words, each one now soft, faint, as it stretched to reach her on shore.

“Don’t go too close to the edge!”

“I won’t! I will return with the waves!”

“Promise me!”

“I promise!” he replied, his voice as a whisper among the roaring of the sea.

“Oh Adi, Adi,” she whispered, rubbing her face with her hands. The sun was hot, but she would not move. She sat, resolute at her post, fixated on the shrinking boat until, finally, it disappeared. Kusuma jumped to her feet, screaming. “Adi!” she shrieked. “Adi!”

She could see it all play out. He was sailing too near the edge, the current pulling him over into an endless freefall. “Oh Adi,” she moaned, dropping to her knees.

“I will return with the waves.” His voice rang in her memory. “I promise.”

Kusuma gasped for breath, trying to calm herself. She could not see through the tears. But what if he comes back with the waves? The girl choked on her tears, but she could not move. She watched the horizon with an unwavering gaze. Seconds turned to minutes, and time seemed to stretch into an infinity.

She had to wait for him. Though broken, her heart marched on solidly. Her hands found occupation digging into the wet sand, her mind busied itself with memory, but her eyes were unmoving, unyielding, uninterested in anything but the edge of the world. They watched the horizon. Turquoise against azure.

Slowly the color of the sky began to change as the sun began its decent. Pinks and corals seeped into the clouds, and still he had not returned. She began to pace. Their parents would be wondering where they were, but how could she return? How could she face them? Kusuma sank into the sand, withered and hopeless. As she laid there, motionless, she watched. Her vision became blurry with concentration.

Suddenly, she sat upright. There was a spot on the horizon, emerging from the flaming red and orange sky. Something was there. She watched closely, unwilling even to breathe. Slowly, slowly, the shape grew larger, and in the fading light she could make out the shape of a boat. “Adi,” she breathed. Kusuma stood, straining to see if there was anyone there in the twilight.

“Kusuma!” a voice called, faint and familiar.

“Adi!” She screamed. “Adi!” This time her eyes rained tears of relief.

“I’m back!” her brother yelled, his voice growing stronger as the distance between them closed. “The waves carried me home!”

“Adi!” she screamed again. Her brother dismounted to pull the boat back onto the shore, and she ran out into the shallow waters to meet him. She thrust her arms around his neck and the two tumbled into the salty water.

Her brother laughed. “Kusuma, are you crying?” he asked, laughing.

“Oh Adi, I thought you were gone forever.”

“I’m here. I’m back. Let’s get this boat back onshore.” She nodded, stifling sobs. “Kusuma, I was right. I was right.”

“What do you mean?”

“The sea just continues on, stretching forever and ever. I could sail every day of my life and never find the edge.”

“Really?”

“Yes, and tomorrow I will show you.”