The Abyss

Flash Fiction by Avram Lavinsky

“Why do you do this?” Claudia took a sip of her espresso martini and ran her bottom lip over her top one to clear the foam mustache.

A dimple formed on one side of Raven’s mouth as she smirked. “Why do people pull someone out of the way of a speeding box truck? I just don’t want to see you crushed.”

Claudia inhaled the vapors of her drink, coffee, chocolate, and buttercream. “You said Brendan was going to dump me back in February. What was that day, the one when you’re most likely to get dumped?”

“Red Tuesday. Right before Valentine’s Day. It’s actually second-most likely. Highest probability is Breakup Day, of course, two weeks before Christmas.”

“Right. You said he was going to dump me then too. And we’re still together.”

“If you call it together,” said Raven. “Does he do anything with you?”

“As a matter of fact, we’ve been biking again.”

“Good. I’m glad. I’d be happy to be wrong. Ecstatic in fact. I just think he’s halfway out the door. You do know now’s the Abyss, right?”

“The Abyss?”

“The August Abyss, right now, it’s the most likely time to get dumped after Breakup Day and Red Tuesday.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t take you seriously anymore. You’re like the little boy who cried cheater.”

“I didn’t say he’s a cheater. I said he’s a serial monogamist.”

“Right.” Claudia rolled her eyes. “But isn’t that just someone loyal who hasn’t found the right person yet?”

“Maybe,” said Raven. “But how would it hurt to check his phone or something?”

“You just said he doesn’t cheat. What am I supposed to find on his phone?”

“Maybe he’s got someone lined up for after he cuts you loose.”

Narrow tires humming against the asphalt, wind whipping against her helmet, Claudia replayed Raven’s words in her mind. Ahead of her, Brendan’s thick legs pistoned in rhythm. She tried to imagine him lining up his next conquest as he planned to dump her. Big, nerdy, lovable Brendan. No, she couldn’t picture it.

Soon, the coastline below revealed itself, the marina on the South River and beyond that the narrow peninsula of Humarock and beyond that the vast, glistening Atlantic.

Gears whining, shoulders tucked low, they started their descent. They raced along the inland side of the river, past the piers and the stilt houses, and over the Sea Street Bridge. Soon the strip of land narrowed and the side streets dropped away, leaving only the single macadam road with homes on tall pilings along either side. They both downshifted, the gradient ever steeper.

Three miles later, thigh muscles burning, they came to the open, unmanned gate at Fourth Cliff. In principle, only service members and their families could access the old harbor defense station turned seaside retreat. In practice, no one had ever asked Brendan to show an ID, but Claudia always brought his Navy Reserve Common Access Card and his Merchant Mariner Credential along with their cell phones in her fanny pack just in case.

They rode into the compound, past the cookie-cutter cabins, their windows dark, their driveways empty.

At the parking lot along the edge of the promontory, a perimeter of Jersey barriers walled off most of the precipice, but along one section a newer cyclone fence had been erected. Beyond it, the asphalt hung over the sheer edge of the cliff where part of the headland had fallen into the sea.

Coasting, Brendan swung a leg over his seat and stood on one pedal. The brakes whined, and he hopped off, sneakers crunching on the shale access road. He certainly cut a dashing figure on that bike. In his uniform as well. His chosen profession was still largely male-dominated, but Claudia knew he had his opportunities at port. She needed to stop thinking about it before it made her crazy.

They walked on, wheeling their bikes, waves booming against the rocks far below. Steely gray clouds streaked the setting sun, and the horizon glowed a fiery red.

Claudia took off her helmet and hung it from her handlebar. “It’s gorgeous up here.”

Brendan wheeled his bike between two of the barriers and onto a ledge. “Pic?”

“Careful, babe.”

“It’s fine.” He reached for her hand.

“I’m fine here. I’ll get one of you.”

He hoisted the bike onto his shoulder, smiling, supremely comfortable, and mere inches from oblivion.

Claudia fished his phone from the fanny pack and keyed in his passcode. The screen unlocked to his calendar. She opened the camera and snapped two pics. Then something lingered in her mind’s eye. She went back to the calendar. On Thursday he’d created an appointment titled “C. Farewell.” The words seared her brain like a brand. A sudden premonition prompted her to swipe ahead. Two weeks later, on a Friday, she found an event titled “Sandy.”

“You bastard!”

“Huh?”

She let her bike drop and rushed at him. Blinded with animal rage, she pounded his chest.

“Claudia, no!”

He twisted. His bike flew end over end into the abyss.

She slipped. A cloud of earth enveloped her, and the stones beneath her feet gave way.

“You sure you want to go through with this?” Raven put her Rav4 in park and cut the engine.

Brendan smiled mournfully. “I’m sure. Even if it’s a gift she can’t receive, it can still help me remember her.”

“I don’t mean to be a downer, but what if they decide to bring charges against you?”

“They won’t. I showed them the tickets for the cruise to Cape Farewell. They’re pretty convinced it was all just a misunderstanding.”

“What about when you’re at sea?”

“My mom’s cool with helping.”

The two walked into the animal shelter and emerged ten minutes later with Sandy, the yellow lab mix, straining at her leash all the way to the car.

Raven found the puppy’s boundless joy so contagious that she reached for Brendan’s hand.

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Bio: Avram Lavinsky has written twenty-four stories published or accepted for publication in esteemed magazines and anthologies, including several best-of compilations. In a starred review, the American Library Association’s Booklist called his story “Playing God” a “particular standout” in The Best Mystery Stories of the Year 2023. In 2025, he received the Al Blanchard Award for best New England crime story. His first agented novel is currently on submission.

Cover Photo by:pexels/Limonovich

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