What could have been
Mari and Jonas had not seen each other since high school. After all these years, after all those days filled with highlights and pain, beauty and cold, after all the tough afternoons at work, lazy mornings at the cabin, unforgettable nights in the city, after all those moments when the children had beamed with joy when picked up from daycare, after all these people who had passed through their lives, some who stayed and some who never came back, after all those times they had been told "it will be fine," but it wasn’t, after all those times when it actually went fine, but no one answered the phone when they called, after all this, after everything they had been through, alone, each on their own, without each other, they were now in the same place, on the same day, without knowing it.
Without knowing it, they were both in the same colorful park, the same park where they had kissed each other for the first time. They admired the same art, breathed the same fresh spring air, and ended up in the background of the same tourist photos. Mari and Jonas lived different lives, and they had different reasons for being in Vigeland Park that Saturday morning, but as they strolled around in the same crowd, in the same blooming park, they both thought about the same thing. As they walked from statue to statue and heard children's laughter and bird song, as they saw people around them celebrating life with ice cream and coffee, and as they looked over at the Monolith and saw how it stretched towards the sky without quite reaching it, they recalled the feeling that had filled their bodies so many years ago. They thought about the time when they were young and free, when they had their whole lives ahead of them to reach for, and when they had each other. They remembered that moment when they looked at each other, and they looked at each other, and nothing else mattered. They thought about the day when they had so little, when they understood so little, but still had everything.
Mari sat down by the large fountain in the heart of the park. She thought about the teenager she had been the last time she sat there. She remembered how fascinated she had been by Gustav Vigeland, how his sculptures had inspired her to draw some of the finest sketches she had ever drawn, and how it planted a dream in her to attend art school. She imagined sitting there by the fountain, showing Jonas the sketches she was going to submit for her entrance exam. She thought about how Jonas had held her, looked at the drawings with a warm gaze, and said in his husky, dark voice that "you are guaranteed to get in with the talent you have, Mari." She remembered smiling, and him smiling, them looking at each other, him holding her, her thinking that nothing else mattered in the world right now, her resting her head on his shoulder, and him saying that "they are a bunch of idiots if they don’t see that this is exceptional, Mari." She remembered laughing, and him smiling, and feeling that Jonas was going to hold her forever because she was irreplaceable to him, what they had was unique, no one else had what they had together.
Jonas walked slowly towards the large fountain in the heart of the park when he suddenly spotted Mari. There she was. He saw her, and he looked at her, and then she became all he could see. He saw her questioning, mysterious eyes. He saw her smile, which in a strange way also carried a form of sadness. He saw the way she moved; elegant and feminine, yet raw and dangerous. He saw her sitting there with the pencil in her hand and the sketchbook in her lap, and he knew that whatever she was creating, it would be unique and beautiful.
He thought about the cold autumn evening when he fell in love with her. He remembered how they should have been home preparing for a history test they had the next day, but it didn’t matter to them, nothing else mattered to them, it was just him and her, the autumn colors and the sunset, and that was all they needed. He imagined how he had told her about his dream of writing short stories and novels, and he remembered how engaged she had become when he shared that he had applied to the writers' school in Bø. He remembered how kind and understanding she was, how vulnerable and genuine, how secure she was in herself, and how secure she made him feel about himself. He thought about her laughter. It was as if she gathered all the joy that existed in the park, as if ten spotlights were shining directly on her, but at the same time spreading joy to everyone around her, like when a gentle autumn breeze blew beautiful leaves on everyone sitting around the tree.
Jonas walked slowly towards Mari.
Mari looked towards Jonas.
Was it really him?
She recognized his tall and dark demeanor, how he was broad-shouldered and fit, and how he walked with one hand in his pocket without seeming affected. She didn’t recognize the tattoos that spread across his entire left arm, the full beard, or the black cap he had on his head. What she recognized more than anything else was the feeling she had when he looked at her: She felt safe and relaxed, and at the same time, she was filled with an expectation that anything could happen now; she could go anywhere, do anything, be surprised by anything. His gaze had the ability to tell her everything she needed to hear.
A man approached Jonas. He kissed him lovingly on the cheek and whispered something in his ear. Jonas smiled. The man smiled. They looked at each other, they talked about something that made their faces light up, and they walked slowly past the fountain where Mari sat and sketched.
Mari looked at Jonas.
Jonas did not look at Mari.
Mari thought about the last time she had let Jonas leave her in this park. At that time, she experienced it as the beginning of an exciting journey, a journey they somehow made together, even though they could not be together. It couldn’t be the two of them, it was not possible, she was going to Oslo, he was going to Bø, she wanted to paint in Italy, he wanted to write in Argentina, they were not ready for each other, it didn’t fit, they couldn’t, they had to be free, she had to let him go his own way. "In another life," she said, "we would have been perfect for each other." Jonas thought something else, but he didn’t dare to say it: It was in this life that they would have been perfect for each other. He would have let every dream go if he could have traveled through life with Mari, but he couldn’t say it. It was too much, they were too young, they were too free.
Jonas and the man began to walk up the stairs towards the Monolith. Mari remembered the last time she had seen Jonas walk up those stairs. At that time, he walked alone, and he never turned back to look. Mari fantasized about what might have happened if she had never let Jonas go up those stairs alone. If she had run after Jonas, embraced him, and told him that there was no one else like him, would it have been the two of them enjoying the spring sunshine together that morning? Would she still have nurtured her passion for art, would she have followed the dream of moving to Italy, would she have felt free, would she have had what she needed? She wished she could hear again what Jonas had said to her before he disappeared from her life: "You deserve only the best, and you deserve to follow your dreams." Maybe if she could hear him say it one more time, her dreams would have become something more than colorless memories. She wished she still had something to reach for. She missed the feeling of not having quite reached it.
Mari looked down at her sketchpad. It was empty.
Mari pondered what Jonas had actually meant: Did she deserve the best, or did she deserve to follow her dreams? For Mari, there was no difference between these. For Jonas, these were probably two different things.
Strong rays of sunshine hit Mari's face. She squinted as she looked at the Monolith. As she rummaged in her bag for her sunglasses, she was struck by a thought she had not allowed herself to have before: She deserved to have something to reach for. All these years, she had thought that what she longed for was Jonas's reassuring gaze. In reality, she was seeking what the Monolith symbolized for her; the wild, chaotic, limitless pull towards the celestial. Jonas represented barriers and stagnation. How had these become confused?
Jonas stopped at the top of the stairs. The man he was with took pictures of the Monolith.
Mari looked at Jonas.
Jonas looked at Mari.
It meant nothing.