Same Sunset

by Kevin O’Neill

Tom and his friends called it North Hill. There was another hill nearby, properly termed South Hill, but the group would never meet there. Instead, every Sunday evening, when they got together to watch the sunset, they gathered at North Hill. No wives, no girlfriends, no brothers or sisters. For as long as they could remember, just the four of them came to observe this day of worship. When the time came, and the sun entered the horizon, they would fall silent, captivated by the most holy of all natural phenomena.

One particular Sunday in October, as the afternoon was fading, and the sky began to blush, only three men were present in their temple upon North Hill. From an old, rotted bench under a giant eucalyptus tree, they gazed outward, beyond the faded grass on the slopes of the hill to a lake at the entrance of the valley.

“Winter is starting to come early this year,” said Martin.

“What do you mean? It’s not that cold,” said Tom.

“Well, I meant that we keep meeting earlier each week.”

“That happens every year,” said Tom.

Anthony pulled on his jacket zipper, even though it was already zipped all the way up. “Anyway, I’m still cold.”

“Whatever, you just need to work on your cold tolerance. So, what’s up with Carl?”

“I don’t know,” said Martin, turning around to face the three men’s trucks. “He’s still not here. Maybe he’s with his girlfriend.”

“He’d better not be. We have a sunset to watch,” said Tom.

As the great ball of fire splashed into the glittering lake, a blue pickup lined up next to the others.

Tom was the first to notice. “Hurry up, Carl. It already started.”

“Alright, be there in a second.” Carl walked around his truck’s headlights and to the passenger door, where a tall, redheaded woman stepped out.

“C’mon Carl,” called Martin, his face absorbed in the fading light of the sky.

Sensing an unusual delay, Tom glanced back at his tardy friend, for the first time noticing another body. “Carl, you know the rules.”

“I know, but can’t we stay? We’ve never seen a sunset together.”

“Sorry, I’m afraid not.”

“But Tom, after all we’ve been through together…”

This time it was Anthony’s turn. “Carl, where have you been all these years? Don’t you know no one brings their girl up here? Sorry, but rules are rules.”

Carl rejoined his subject of humiliation, who had retreated to their pickup. He drove off in search of another place to observe the sky, but the sun had disappeared as well.

It was now November. A month had passed and Carl had yet to return to North Hill and join his former congregation of sunset-watchers. As much as he was missed, the rest had to continue their tradition.

“Hey Martin, can I ask you a question?” It was getting harder to see, but Anthony could still manage to discern the identity of his friend by the outline of his face.

“Sure.”

“I had this dream last night.” Anthony paused momentarily.

“Go ahead.”

“I think it means something.”

“I know what it means.” Tom got up from his end of the bench and landed in between them.

“But he hasn’t told us anything yet,” said Martin. “Let him finish his story first.”

“I knew that. I was just trying to point out that when he finishes, and when I’ve thought about it for a minute, I’ll be able to interpret. Anyway, Martin, you brought the beer, right?” Tom turned to Anthony. “Go on.”

“Well, it was Sunday morning, but I was already leaving for the evening. I passed my garage, saw its emptiness, and realized it was because I had to walk.”

“Martin, where’s my beer?”

“I’m getting it.”

“Well, hurry up.” Tom looked at Anthony again. “Continue.”

“For hours, I walked and walked. My shadow contracted until noon, then grew again. I reached North Hill just in time, but had to climb it along its steepest slopes because the road was closed.”

“C’mon Martin. What’s taking you so long?”

“It’s buried in the back of my truck. I’ll be there in a second.”

Tom’s mind returned to the bench. “By the way Anthony, that symbolizes your ascent in society. You’re going to be rich.”

“I hope so.” Anthony stared into the lake and its oscillating reflection of the sun. “Anyway, there was more. I got to the top, but I was exhausted. I looked around for some water, but no one was there to help me.”

“That’s because somebody took forever with the beer. Martin!”

“I’m right here, Tom.”

“Is the beer here with you?”

Martin pulled a blue bottle out from his cooler and handed it to Tom. Within seconds, the foamy liquid ran through shards of broken glass.

“Tom, what’s wrong with you? I paid good money for that.”

“You brought me the wrong kind.”

“What do you mean the wrong kind?”

“That is not the beer we drink.”

“Then what do we drink?”

“Haven’t you been here all these years, drinking with us?”

“What kind is it?”

“Haven’t you toasted to our health, peace and happiness?”

“Tom, I asked you what kind.”

“It’s…it’s…the red kind.”

“The red kind?”

“Yeah, the red kind. I forget the name exactly, but it’s the only beer I’ve drunk for as long as I can remember and the only beer I’ll drink as long as I live.”

“You couldn’t have just tried the beer with blue label?”

“C’mon Martin, you know we always drink the red brand when we watch the sunset.”

“But Tom, is there anything about the sunset that tells us to drink one form of beer over another?” When Martin spoke, it was almost not even to Tom, but to the almighty sun, as though he were asking it to intervene.

Martin looked at Anthony for the first time in minutes, but all he saw was a face staring at the ground. He reached into his cooler, and one-by-one, opened each bottle of beer, pouring its blood into an enlarging pool in front of Tom’s feet. When he was done, he placed each bottle back into the cooler, started up his truck and drove down the hill, tracing out Carl’s path.

“You know, you never really finished interpreting my dream.” Despite the increasing cold, Anthony managed to show up the following Sunday. Tom had begun to think that maybe nobody would be there and that he would be better off making dinner for himself at home, yet he and his friend found themselves sitting on their sacred bench together, as they had done many times before.

“I said, you still haven’t finished with my dream.”

“Alright, Anthony. Calm down.”

“So what do you think it means?”

“Well, as I’ve said, the climbing of the hill means you’ll rise up in society, and the empty garage…it means you’re getting a new car.”

“Really?”

“What do you mean ‘really’? You think I’d lie to you?”

“No, it’s just that Martin said something different.”

“Martin? You talked to Martin?” Tom jumped up from the bench, careful to avoid the broken glass from last week.

Anthony backed away, cautious of starting a fight. “Yeah, uh, what’s wrong with that?”

“Martin is no longer our friend.”

Anthony slipped behind the bench. “Well, he did offer to help.”

“What did he say?” Tom placed his foot where he had been sitting a moment ago.

“I don’t think you’d care.”

“What did he say?” Tom’s right hand snuck into his pocket.

“It doesn’t matter. We only talked briefly.”

“What did he say?” Tom was now standing entirely on the bench.

“I can’t remember.”

“What did he say?” Tom’s right hand was suspended above his head, his face blending into the sunset, and in it was a knife.

“Okay, okay. I’ll tell you.” Anthony took the slightest step backwards. “Martin said the reason the garage was empty was that something’s missing in my life. And I was so thirsty coming to North Hill because-”

Tom lunged forward with the knife, grazing Anthony’s left elbow. He swung again, this time tripping over the backrest of the bench. He looked up as soon as he had recovered, but all he could see was a path of red splashes leading up to an empty parking space.

Although he didn’t expect any company, Sunday had its name for a reason, and Tom was the lone occupant of the once revered temple on North Hill. He sat on an empty bench, watching his truck sit in an empty parking lot. The sun started to disappear, but Tom’s eyes remained on the can of beer he was drinking and its red label. To his right were two more, still connected by the plastic. To his left were three finished cans, along with the broken glass he had never bothered to pick up.

The sun had just been swallowed by the lake, though Tom only knew because he could no longer make out colors as easily. His can turned a dull gray like everything else, and the hand around it became a mere shadow. He lifted himself from his bench, but was quickly brought down by the alcohol. He tilted his face away from the ground and was about to drive home until he noticed a scene he had never seen before. A small glow appeared in the South, revealed by the darkening sky and its position atop another hill.

For a moment, Tom just stood there, staring at this light like he used to stare at the setting sun with his friends. Tom stumbled to his truck, slowly but surely. He started up the engine and went down the hill, more alcohol dissipating from his veins each second. When he arrived, the light- and its creators- were still there.

It had been coming from a small fire, right in front of an old bench where four people were sitting. On the far end were Carl and that tall redhead lying in his arms. In the middle was Anthony, his arm resting in a sling. And closest to Tom was Martin, who was crafting a pyramid of ten blue bottles.

Tom was speechless. He tried moving towards them, but backed away, afraid of being found out. He tried going backwards, but stopped, afraid of losing his opportunity. He took a step in the direction of the boulder behind them and began to climb to the top. A few steps later, he froze at the sound of a twig snapping, though he could not tell whether it was from beneath his shoe or the fire. He remained in that position for what seemed like ages, one leg cemented at the zenith of the mass, the other pressing against a foothold further down. When he finally determined that the others had failed to notice him, he tried to bring up his left foot and prepare to pounce, but he slipped on a section of moss and fell to the ground in a thud, cutting open his lip and swallowing a piece of a tooth.

Martin and his friends awoke as though from a trance. Martin turned around and faced his former friend. “Tom, what happened?”

Tom managed to rise to his feet, though he couldn’t hide what became an obvious limp. “How could you?”

“What do you mean, Tom? I haven’t done anything.”

Tom remained silent for a second, then swung his good foot at the still-standing pyramid and knocked off the highest bottle. “How could you guys bring this?” he said.

“C’mon Tom, you know there’s nothing wrong with having a differently colored label. Besides, it’s not like we can tell the difference once the sun’s gone down.” Martin received a few nods of support from his friends.

Tom took a moment to examine the blood running from a deep gash in his right shoulder. “Yeah, well, how could you let Carl bring that bitch up here?”

Tom felt around inside his pockets, staining the insides, but nothing was there. He had some matches, but they had fire. He had a couple of fists, but they had eight.

“Who said we couldn’t? Besides, Sidney is really nice once you get to know her. Right, Anthony?”

“Yeah, she’s great.”

“Is there anything else you’d like to say?”

Tom checked his pockets again, just in case he had missed something. This time, he found his car keys, but they weren’t sharp enough, and given his condition, fleeing was no longer a possibility. “You got away with bringing the wrong beer. You got away with bringing a woman.” Tom was beginning to regret his forgetting his knife. “But to meet…at South Hill…” Tom formed a fist and coiled back his arm, ignoring the continued loss of blood.

“But Tom,” said Martin, “it’s the same sunset.”