The Last Goodbye

Emily sat on the edge of the chair, picking at the frayed seams in the leather.  She was thinking about the lake house, with its mint green walls, and the way the sun rippled across the surface of the water like tiny pools of glitter. She was remembering the sticky, sweet way the tar in the dock smelled in the midday heat and the delicious feel of the crisp breeze swirling across her sweat pricked skin. She was remembering Alex and the way he would wait perched on a sun warmed rock with his feet rustling the pebbles under the water, waiting for her to come running out the door. She was thinking of racing him to the end of the dock, the splash as he hit the surface and the feel of her toes curled against the edge of the warm, wet wood as she laughed at him for braving the cold water first.

Dr. Francis snapped her fingers. “Emily?” Emily blinked her eyes.

“Did you want to share what you were thinking about?”

Emily shook her head.  “No.”

“Do you want to talk about the fact that it’s August? Maybe talk about the lake house?”

Emily bit her lip. She shrugged. “No…”

Dr. Francis sighed. “Alright, how are you doing today Emily?””

“Fine.”

“Did you want to talk about anything today?”

“Not really… “ Emily crossed her arms.

Dr. Francis steepled her fingers and placed them under her chin. “Emily, I know it’s hard, but do you think your brother would have wanted you to close yourself off like this?”

“Gee, it would be nice to know what my brother wanted right now, wouldn’t it?”

Dr. Francis pursed her lips.

 

***

Emily paced down the street. She was huddled inside of her jacket. The rain dripped off her hood and onto the tips of her boots. She looked up. Her attention focused on a small store set in-between Rainy Day Shoes and Henry’s Watches and Repairs. She squinted her eyes against the weather. There was no sign of any kind that might allude to what the store contained. The windows were slightly smudged as if small children had stuck their hands and noses upon the glass. A rich, mahogany door stood out in stark contrast to the rest of the neglected looking storefront. Emily hesitated. She put her hand on the smooth handle. A small bell tinkled as the door closed behind her. Emily looked around at shelf upon shelf of glass bottles. Small, medium, large, skinny, fat; every bottle swirled with a myriad of different effervescent colors. Some were blue-green like the sea, others a deep maroon. The most beautiful twirled in hues of gold, silver and pearl. Emily reached forward to grab a small jar filled with purple smoke.

“May I help you?”

Emily spun around to find a petite, old woman. Her cream hair was neatly pulled back into a bun and her gold-rimmed spectacles rested on the end of her nose.

“Oh I… um what are these,” asked Emily.

“These,” said the old woman as she took the purple bottle off the shelf, “are the last thoughts or memories that a person had before they died.”

Emily knit her eyebrows together.

“I can show you,” said the old woman.

She didn’t wait for a response from Emily. She pulled the cork stopper from the top of the bottle and placed it under Emily’s nose.

Emily was immersed in a purple fog. A sharp, salty, coastal smell filled her lungs. The soft creak of wood and the low rumble of a cat purr settled into the quiet spaces of her mind. The comforting weight of a wool blanket embraced her thighs. She could feel the sun kissing the soft creases of her face. She curled her fingers into her cat’s warm fur and sighed softly.

The purple haze melted away. Emily stared at the old woman, the taste of the sea still on her tongue.

“Come with me, Emily. There’s more I want to show you.” The old woman walked off into the aisles of jars.

Emily opened her mouth and then closed it again. She slipped her hands inside her pockets and went off after the old woman. When Emily found her she was holding a squat little jar filled with thick, forest green clouds. Emily paused a moment before she took the out held jar and brought it towards her face.

She blinked as her vision was flooded with sunlight. She could smell fresh cut grass and lavender. The sticky, sweet taste of homemade lemonade coated the inside of her mouth. A young woman was on the lawn chasing two small children. Emily watched as the young boy and girl tumbled to the ground in a giggling heap. She smiled as the mother scooped up the children. They squealed with delight as the mother blew raspberries on their taut little bellies.

“That was me…” said Emily. “That was my mom and my brother and me.”

Emily stumbled on the word brother. She wiped her clammy hands on her jeans.

“That was your Grandma Terri’s last memory.”

“How do you know… “ Emily shook her head. “Who are you?”

“I am here to help those who need me most.”

“That doesn’t tell me anything.”

“You may call me Clara if you’d like,” She smiled. “This way.”

Clara disappeared again like a ghost within the maze of bottles. Emily slid her cold hands into the warmth of her armpits. She took a deep breath and followed Clara among the aisles until they reached a shelf that consisted entirely of bottles filled with a heavy black smoke. Within the vapors she could glimpse flickers of red as if the smoke contained smoldering embers. Clara reached out and grabbed one of the bottles off the shelf. She pulled out the cork and handed it to Emily.

Emily could feel herself being sucked into the seething cloud. The thoughts in her head felt heavy and sticky. Her knuckles tightened on the steering wheel as the entwined image of a naked man and woman shimmered across her mind.  Her heart swelled painfully into the back of her throat. She could feel tears burning their way down her face, becoming impaled in the scruff on her jaw line. Her vision blurred. It was exhausting and painful to find the white line on the road, to remember what it meant. It was hard to remember what anything meant. She didn’t want to feel anything anymore. She wanted this hurt that lived deep in her bones to go away. She wanted the painful swelling in her chest to leave so she could breathe. She was startled by the sting of headlights piercing into the back of her skull. It took her too long to remember the brakes. The sick taste of fear burned the back of her throat and the sounds of skidding tires and crunching glass penetrated into the deepest parts of her soul.  The thick, bitter taste of blood and regret filled her mouth. She closed her eyes, let go of the last of her desire to hold on, as she relaxed into the pain.

The glass bottle shattered on the floor as it slipped from Emily’s limp fingers. She could feel the warm trails of tears on her cheeks. Emily stumbled backward into one of the shelves. She felt herself sliding to the floor. She cradled her head in her hands.

“No…” Emily licked her chapped lips. “Why…why, did you show me that?”

“His name was Nathan Jones.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Emily choked on a sob. She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter what his name was. He killed my brother.”

“No one is perfect Emily. Everyone has their story. Holding on to blame and anger, it’s only hurting you.”

“Why did he have to die?” Emily’s breath caught in her throat. “I need him… I need my best friend back.”

“There aren’t always the answers that you want.” said Clara. “You don’t have to hold on to your hurt Emily. Letting go of your pain doesn’t mean you love him any less.”

“You don’t know that! You don’t know him! You don’t know me! Just leave me alone!”

“Emily…”

“I don’t want to look at these anymore,” Emily yelled at Clara.

She pushed herself away from the floor and stumbled blindly through the aisles. She couldn’t remember how to get to the exit. All the shelves looked the same. Panting, she came to a stop. She dropped to her knees and pressed her face into her hands and began to cry in earnest. Harsh sobs rippled through her fragile frame.

Eventually she looked up. Clara was standing quietly at the corner of one the shelves; a tall bottle filled with pearlescent blue mist was cradled in her hands.

“No more…” Emily whispered.

“Please Emily, I want you to take this one with you.”

Somehow she knew that the blue mist was her brother’s. It seemed right that something that was a part of him would be such a mesmerizing color. She pressed her hot eyes against her sleeves. Barely realizing what she was doing Emily reached for the blue bottle. She cradled it against her for a moment. Her heart felt swollen with loss. She could feel it beating faster because she was afraid to know what was in the bottle. She had to know what was in the bottle. She took a deep, ragged breath, closed her eyes and pulled out the cork.

She recognized the lake house immediately; the mint green walls and red trim, the canoe softly kissing the dock as the lake swelled up underneath the hull, the gentle sush of the lake’s edge against the pebbled shoreline. Alex was sitting with his feet in the cool water, the heat of the sun softly pressing against his freckled skin. She could smell the faint coconut scent of sunscreen and the earthy aroma of wet stone. As she looked back up at the house she watched herself come running out the door, the setting sun softening her outline. She watched as Alex stood up from the bank. She watched as he caught her in his arms. And she was hugging him. They hugged until she could no longer taste the metallic in her mouth. They hugged until she could no longer feel the glass in her skin or the pain in her chest.