Fade To Bright

"Are you afraid?" Arthur asked of her.  Deep down, he knew they would never see eye to eye, the way people who share admissions and confessions often do.  This saddened him but he continued to prod Ruth day after day.

"Afraid of what?" Ruth answered.

"Don't ask me that.  You know exactly what I am talking about," Arthur snapped.

"Why are you so upset with me?  I told you I wasn't afraid and you keep asking me if I am.  Do you know something I don't know?" she said to him.

"I know a lot.  I know a lot," he said.  "I told you I was afraid and I just thought--"

"You thought what?" she interrupted.

"I thought we wanted the same things," Arthur said.  He, himself, didn't really know what these things were.  He just knew that they had become one of those couples who only loved each other for their similarities.

"We don't want the same things.  We never wanted the same things.  We were afraid of the same things," Ruth said.  "Do you understand what I am saying?"

"No, not really.  I guess I am as thick as you always claimed me to be," he admitted shamefully.

"You're not thick, Arthur.  You're an optimist.  You have no idea how to sleep.  To really sleep.  But how could you?" she asked.

"What are you talking about?" he said.

"You're afraid of the dark," she said.  "So am I."

"So what?" he asked.

"So what?" she retorted.  "Saying you're afraid of the dark means only one thing."

"And what's that?" he asked as if he already knew the answer.  He was really tired of her accusing him of not exploring his demons, of conceding to the inevitable, of breathing calmly in the face of an unsettling premonition.  She had become the casualty of the simplistic nature of his happiness but he no longer felt bad about any of this.

"It means you don't know how to see the light," she said as she flipped the switch on the wall, never to return again.