Finity 

Audrey Spurgeon

Through the window of the tram car, Ben doesn’t recognize her at first. Regardless of all the times he imagined something as coincidentally perfect as this happening. Regardless of the years he’s played it out over and over in his head. Still, she doesn’t feel familiar at first, not as she takes a photo of a young family in front of the Dancing House. Unbelieving and pitched forward in his seat, he squints through the smudged glass as the streetcar approaches the stop. It’s not until she kneels down and gives the little boy a high five that he knows she’s actually there. He watches in awe as she slides the sunglasses off her head and fits them to her face.

Ben has a few more stops until his exit, but he can’t help himself when the doors crank open. Stepping out into the cool Prague air, he runs his fingers through his hair and makes his move towards her.

He stands in front of her clear as day, with the late-afternoon sun painting his face. Ben squints a little against the glare when Kirby notes that he still can’t remember a pair of sunglasses on a sunny day. She lets out a quick laugh. He lifts his eyebrows, questioning her humor, but she’s not even sure why she’s laughing.

“Sorry– it’s uh… it’s good to see you. Crazy,” Kirby says. Figuring it’s probably not her place to make fun of him anymore, she lets the sunglasses go.

“I wasn’t even sure it was you, at first,” Ben shares. It's her turn to raise her eyebrows, questioning him. “I just didn’t really believe you were here. I thought I was imagining it or something.”

Kirby pauses, not knowing what to say, noticing the barrier of time between them.

It sits and separates them like a wall of ice, but she can still see him. It's a distorted image. All of the familiar colors and features are warped, impossible to piece together. It doesn’t feel good, and this is certainly not happening the way she imagined it would. It all feels very wrong and very right at the same time.

“Again, it’s really nice seeing you but I’ve got a lot to get to before dinner, so–”

“You’ve walked the Charles Bridge?" Ben interrupts.

“Yeah.”

“Seen the castle? Old Town?” He theatrically gestures in the direction of each as he lists the historical attractions. “Astronomical clock?” He's not gonna let her go painlessly.

“Yes, yes and yes,” Kirby replies, impressed by his ability to have already gotten under her skin.

“Then you’ve seen all the things Tripadvisor told you to.”

“I haven’t seen the Kafka head yet.”

“It’s on the way.”

“To…?”

“The place that Tripadvisor doesn’t know about.”

Kirby stares at him for a moment. He’s patient as she lets go of all the reasons she was prepared to walk away. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Ben gives her a winning smile.

The pair fold into the flow of locals and tourists headed east, as the ice defrosts under the setting sun.

The swirling metal of the Head of Franz Kafka is impressive, even amongst the horde of picture-snapping tourists.

“Want a photo?” Ben asks.

“This thing isn’t gonna get any better with me standing in front of it.”

“Maybe, but your mom won’t agree with that.”

“You’re right. Would you?” Kirby hands her phone to him and turns to pose for the photo.

Through the screen, it’s obvious she doesn’t know what to do with her hands: Kirby’s never loved having her photo taken. During his countdown, she pops a knee out and slides her hands into her back pockets. She smiles like she’s over thinking it, and is relieved once it's over.

They walk in a strangely comfortable silence for a few blocks. Now trailing behind an older couple with intertwined arms, Kirby notices a bride and groom having their photos taken in the park to their left. They keep moving, but she cranes her head back, lingering on the scene.

“I went to my first wedding last month,” she shares.

“Twenty-six years, and that was your first wedding? How?”

“That’s a good question.”

“So, what’d you think?”

“I don’t know… I think I’m still figuring them out. It was great, really beautiful. It felt… perfect… right.” She pauses. Ben waits, knowing she has more, knowing her.

As they approach a crosswalk, Kirby punches the signal button. “I guess just the whole time I was thinking to myself that I’d never want my wedding to be like that: big, traditional, loud. All the things they probably loved about their wedding felt to me like something I would hate. And maybe that’s a terrible or out-of-pocket thing to say.”

“Did you share your thoughts with the newlyweds?” Ben says as the signal turns green.

“No, of course not.”

“So, why does it matter what you think if you were just keeping it to yourself?”

“It just made me feel guilty. There we were, all having a lovely time and I’m standing around judging them.”

“I don’t think you were judging them. You just realized that what’s right for them doesn’t have to be what’s right for you.”

“Yeah, I guess that could be true.”

“It is… This might be a weird thing to say but when we were together, did you ever imagine our wedding day?”

Kirby can’t help but laugh. “Actually, yes. But I think I’ve done that in every relationship. Sorry.”

“Well, you dodged a bullet because the way I imagined it probably wouldn’t have made you happy.”

“I don’t really think it's about being happy. I’m always going to be happy on my wedding day.”

“Then what’s it about?”

“Being comfortable.” The sentiment hangs in the air. For a moment, or two.

“We almost there?” she asks.

“Almost,” he answers.

“Dobrý den. Dva pivos, prosim,” Ben requests. The huge courtyard is filled with tables, beers and laughing patrons.

The Czech bartender slides two beers across the counter, foam spilling over the sides onto the already sticky surface.

“Wait–” Kirby digs around in her purse and pulls out a wad of cash, “Use this. I need to get rid of my crowns before I leave tomorrow.”

Ben takes the cash and pays. They grab their beers off the counter, “Diky!”

“Nice Czech,” Ben compliments.

“That’s the only word I know. Yours is much more impressive.”

“Well, I’ve been here for a few months so, I’d hope so. This way.” Ben leads them out of the garden. Kirby stifles her confusion and follows.

“So, when does this ‘crimi tv’ shoot wrap?”

“Got about a month left, then it’s back to the States for me.” Ben slows, “This is it, Riegrovy hill.” He takes a sip of his beer, which leaves some foam on his upper lip.

The view is unassuming at first, until Kirby notices the way the trees frame the castle perfectly. Despite it being on the other side of the city, it still looms large against the orange and pink watercolor sky. They settle into the grass, beers in hand.

Ben wipes his lip, then offers her a cigarette. “I’m good, thanks.”

“Come on, don’t you wanna fit in with the Europeans?” he teases. When she relents, Ben isn’t surprised.

“Since when have you smoked?”

“Since I’ve been in Europe,” Ben lights his cigarette before handing her the lighter.

“Same.” That earns a laugh. The conversation lulls, the view and smoke pulling the focus.

“You still writing?” Kirby breaks the silence.

“Yeah, when I can.” Ben puts the cigarette to his lips and the burnt tip glows a bright orange. “Honestly, inspiration has been hard to come by out here, which has been a surprise. If anything, I thought that spending time away would help me get over the finish line, but it hasn’t.”

“Hmm,” Kirby’s lungs fill. The feeling is foreign, but she doesn’t mind it.

“Actually, this is where I come sometimes, to try to stir things up.” Ben grins, looking down at his beer.

“Are you still working on…?”

“Yeah.” Ben won’t meet her eyes.

Kirby studies him. “I can tell that you're searching for something, and it's probably just taking longer than you expected it to, but that’s okay. It doesn’t mean you’ve failed or that it’s not good, you’re just still looking.”

“Yeah.” Ben nods, ready to move on. “Tell me about something that’s frustrating you right now.” He takes one last drag of his cigarette before twisting the burnt end into the ground, “And don’t give me any of that positivity bullshit stuff. Give me something good, like, something you’d never say to the kids at school.”

“Okay, uh…” Kirby takes a sip of her beer, “Oh, here we go.” She rolls her eyes when Ben rubs his hands together. “If you’re gonna make fun of me then I’m not gonna share.”

He slaps his hands to his sides with a smile, “Sorry.”

Kirby smiles back and takes a drink, then continues, “So, about a month ago, things were going really well with this guy. I really liked him–like, I thought he was gonna be my boyfriend. Then all the sudden, he gets cold feet and ends things. Out of nowhere.” She takes another sip, bigger this time, “And when I, you know, asked him what happened, he said that it was because he thought I was ‘too good’ of a person and that he didn’t deserve me.” The beer is talking now.

Ben downs the rest of his drink. “So, he was just emotionally unavailable and trying to look out for you?”

“Well, yeah, but like–that’s bullshit! Why does he get to decide if he’s not good enough for me? Like do I get any say at all in what I think I deserve or can I not make those judgements for myself? I just didn’t agree with him.” Another sip, “I’m like okay let me workshop this, you know, let me do some reflection and figure out why that would happen. And this voice inside my head just kept being like: do I need to become a shitty person in order to get what I want?”

“That’s not what you want.”

“Yeah, but I want to be the one to decide that.”

“I think you think that’s what you want, but it actually isn’t what you need.”

“It just… it’s frustrating for me.” Kirby finishes her drink, “And now, the worst part is that I miss him… like, a lot. And as much as I want to hate him, I don’t– I don’t think I can.”

A plane flies overhead, the family beside them breaks into laughter, a bottle of champagne is popped, before Ben says, “You always see the best in people, don’t you?”

Kirby turns to him, and she sees that he’s looking at her, really looking at her. Her face gets hot. Feeling exposed, she says, “What do you mean?”

“Well… I don’t know, I guess it's something I’ve always known about you.”

“What’s so wrong with that?” Kirby counters.

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong with that… I just want the best for you, that’s all,”

“I don’t really think that’s your place anymore.” She trains her gaze back on the castle, now engulfed in a deep purple.

“You’re right. It’s not,” Ben says, defeated.

After a moment, Kirby circles back, “Do you think it’s a bad thing? Seeing the best in people?”

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

“It felt like it.”

“I’m sorry.”

There are no words left to say as the sun’s absence cools the air. They both sit like statues, and they stay like that, for a while.

Ben clears his throat, “What time is it?”

“Uh… seven thirty.”

“Perfect.” Ben stands up, straightening. “Come on.”

He extends his hand, Kirby takes it. She’s not sure why.

The music that floats from the gazebo grows louder as they approach. Intertwined figures spin, illuminated in the moonlight, “What is this?” Kirby asks.

“This is Havlíček. There’s dancing here every Saturday.”

        Couples old and young dance to the soft classical music. It’s beautiful, intimate. “I can see why you like this. It looks like it's straight out of a movie.”

        “Exactly.” Ben isn’t sure where they stand, but there’s only one way to find out, “I’m gonna join in. You’re welcome to join me, or you can watch, or you can leave, I’d understand either way. I just wanted you to see it.”

        “You go, I’m gonna watch.”

        “Okay.” Ben smiles at her and then heads onto the dance floor. He approaches a wrinkled woman standing on the side; he knows her. They come together and fall into sync with the rest of the couples.

 It would be so easy to walk away now, painless. All these years apart and nothing has changed, nothing will change. They’ll stick to their parallel paths. Today’s just been a glitch in the system.

But… What if she didn’t walk away? What if she didn’t take the easy way out? Why should she, if only for one night. She surrenders herself to the feeling, the freedom of it, finding herself moving towards him, and taking his hands.

As they sway to the music, the distance between them bridges. Closer, the tension releasing slowly.         

        Towards the end of the song, Ben lifts her hand, spinning them around. Then he tugs her towards him, dipping her as they share a laugh that sounds a lot like relief. “Remind me what time your flight is tomorrow?” Ben asks.

        “Eight a.m.”

        “Shoot, okay. Well, if you need me to walk you back or something…”

        Kirby doesn’t worry about sleep, sleep will always be there. He won’t. Whatever’s happening here, this stolen moment in time, feels worth it. “It’s okay, I’m here. I have time.”

Hi! My name is Audrey Spurgeon and I am a senior here at UW, double majoring in Cinema & Media Studies and English (Creative Writing). I grew up in Norfolk, Virginia and moved to Seattle in 2022. One of my favorite aspects of storytelling is how curiosity is essential to telling complex stories about real people, and how creating with compassion has the power to bring individuals together.