The Promise

by Damon Galgut

The disappearance begins immediately and in a certain sense never ends.

Couldn’t tell the difference between hate and love, that’s how close we were. Two trees twisted together, roots locked like fate.

You come back after long vanishment and the surface closes as if you were never gone. Family quicksand.

Apartheid has fallen, see, we die right next to each other now, in intimate proximity. It’s just the living part we still have to work out.

This nothing, this state of Not. She mourns herself in terror.

She’s found it in herself lately, more and more often, to do what she feels she has to, but to do it lightly.

Odd how certain people, often random individuals, can pulse with significance in your thoughts, your dreams.

Oh, the usual Christmas fare, some sweets and a fortune cookie, a little bit of dynamite.

But refusal only works on other people, on fate it has no effect. You may have noticed it yourself, protesting at destiny is a waste of breath, what happens will happen regardless of your No.

No love left, only kindness, which is maybe stronger. More durable, anyhow.