What I Regret

By Asche Keegan

“What’s this?” the dragon asked, tucking his wings around me. “What feeling is that?”

I stretched back against his green scales, then turned and met his ichor eyes. “You wouldn’t know it,” I shrugged. “Ever heard of regret?”

Gregarious frowned—I could tell from the way his mouth tightened and his eyes slanted. “Why would you of all people be feeling regret? What are you feeling guilty for?”

I hesitated, looking out towards the mouth of the cave we were huddled in. The formless sky never changed, but for a moment I thought I saw a shooting star darting across its exterior. Distracted by the motion, I detached myself from Gregarious’ side and walked out onto the top of the mountain, looking for the sign in the sky.

I almost tripped, an action which would have sent me plummeting thousands of miles to the ground below. Gregarious had taught me how to influence matter in this world of mine, but I still did not relish the idea of falling. Besides, the only way to reach Gregarious’ cave was to fly.

“Are you regretting leaving your friend again?” Gregarious called out to me, attempting to redirect the conversation.

I shook my head. “That hurt, but looking back, it needed to happen. We’ve both needed to grow and mature a little. Learn what’s really important—that kind of thing. We’ll be trying again after next semester though, I think. I’m regretting the rest of it.”

“Why would you do that? Remember how she hurt you?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the star, trailing above me in its full magnificence. It felt out of place in this otherwise desolate world, kind of like myself. “‘Faithful are the wounds of a friend,’” I quoted. “That’s the last thing she sent me, but there’s more to the passage. Just a little further down in Proverbs, it says, ‘Do not forsake your friend.’”

“Why are you telling me this?” Gregarious asked.

“Oh, I thought you had asked.” I paused, one foot in front of the other, arms outstretched to keep my balance. “I hurt her too. And then nothing went well because of it. I’m regretting the stubbornness, the unwillingness to fight for what I needed to.”

“But you’re a fighter,” Gregarious said.

“I pretend I am,” I replied, turning back to him. “But I give up too easily, especially on the important stuff. That’s a lesson I’ve learned. You know, Proverbs isn’t the only passage I’ve been studying. 1 Corinthians 13 shares some important insights as well.”

“Have I not taught you what love is?” Gregarious asked. “Remember, it’s painful. It hurts everyone it touches, and then people abuse it. You get hurt, you give up everything for people who would never do the same. You pour your heart and soul into making something succeed, only for another to sabotage it.”

“You’ve always been a pessimist, Gregarious,” I replied. The star was trailing off now, stretching out over the desert and growing fainter. “That’s not what love is. It doesn’t envy or boast. It does not get angry, especially over nothing. Love is patient, kind, humble, forgiving, truthful, polite, and selfless. It protects, it trusts, it hopes, and it perseveres. By that standard, I’ve never loved anyone—not even myself.”

“So that’s it?” Gregarious asked. “You’re just going to go back to her just like that?”

I wobbled on the cliff edge, staring at the drop once more. “I’m not ready yet, but I’m getting there.” I wondered how much energy it would take to make a cloud to catch me if I leaped. “I’m learning how to love, and once I do, she and I can be unstoppable together again. Because sometimes—” I trailed off, running towards the edge of the cliff, even as Gregarious’ nostrils flared, and he shouted at me to stop.

“You just have to take a leap in the right direction,” I finished. Winking at him, I dived off the side of the cliff, simultaneously loving and despising this feeling of falling. Just in time, I summoned all my energy together into a wind tunnel that caught me before I hit the ground.

Adrenaline rushing through me, I looked back up to see how far I had fallen. Only a silhouette in the night, Gregarious lazily spiraled downward. “And maybe someday, I’ll teach you how to love as well,” I murmured to the dragon, before grinning and chasing the shooting star across the desert sands.