Far Off Places

Far Off Places





Here we are again. Back where everything started, and now, apparently, where it shall end. We are on a hillside, balanced precariously on the top of a chain-link fence while behind us the joyful screams of children can be heard as the clamber all over the park equipment like little monkeys, laughing and playing. Before us, the smooth navy sea stretches out to meet the horizon, the molten ball of the setting sun casting golden reflections across the surface.

"Beau?"
I perk up at the sound of my name, turning to my companion, my eyes met with a thoughtful expression.
"Yes, Pepper?"
But she does not answer right away, instead, directing her gaze back to the waterfront. I don't mind, our conversations never seem to have many words anyway. When Pepper finally speaks her voice sounds sad.

"What would you do if I told you I was going away?"
Hold you, beg you not to go; to please, please don't leave me. I've never gone anywhere without you.
"I imagine that I'd be a little angry at you for leaving."
But at the same time knowing that I had been expecting it for a long time, because I knew this place couldn't hold her forever.
"And I'd also be very sad."

I see her nod slightly from the corner of my eye, and then her head is on my shoulder, my nose filled with the floral scent of her; her copper hair tickling my chin.
"I'd be sad, too. It'd be the first time doing something without you."

Pepper and I, since we first met, have been inseparable. It had started in this very park, with me helping her to look for her lost puppy, continued on into the roiling emotional, hormone-driven world of high school, and even into adulthood. We have never done anything without somehow involving the other in it. Such a thing seemed almost blasphemous. Beau and Pepper, Pepper and Beau, we were like two halves of a whole; practically synonymous.

As much as it pained me to accept the fact that she was going and leaving me behind, it was something that I had long ago foreseen. Of the two of us, Pepper was always the dreamer, the artist; always wanting to go places, meet new people; wanting to find a life far beyond the sprawling fingers of our town. She was like some sort of beautiful exotic bird. You loved her while you had her, but understood that one day you were going to have to open the cage and let her fly away; because you realized that it was a sin to keep her in there in the first place.

And then there was me, the stay at home boy, perfectly happy right where he was and never needing to go anywhere else. But at that moment I would have given anything to be like my Pepper, to go with her to some far-off place, a foreign land; to not be ingrained in this town at the very core of my being.

Without my realizing, Pepper had lifted her head from my shoulder and slid off the fence. Now she looks up at me, and I don't think I've ever seen her eyes hold so much sadness before. Oh, Pepper, my beautiful Pepper, please don't cry. You have to be strong because this is what you've been waiting for your entire life.

I jump down and go to her, folding my arms around her slender body and squeezing as tight as I can; as if my grip could somehow meld her to me so that we never have to be apart.
"I'm leaving tonight, Beau." she says, her voice a mere crest of breath. And with that she gently pushes me away and turns her back on me-heading home. Behind me, the sun has drowned in the sea.


~~~


Later, after many hours of moping and berating myself for not saying something more to her, I receive a phone call from one of mutual friends - the harsh bleating of the phone breaks me from my stupor.

The voice on the other end is frantic, near hysterics, choked with sobs. My traitorous legs give out from underneath me and I slide to the floor; dragging the phone, stand and all, with me. I don't even notice. My screaming is drowned out by the mournful baying of the neighbour's dog.


~~~


Some months later I arrive, without thinking, at the cemetery where my beloved is buried. The stone that marks her is simple - granite with a black and gold plaque on it that states her name, the years of birth and death, and what she meant to her family and friends. I think she deserves much more, but I suppose that is all her family could afford.

Something at the foot of the marker catches my attention. A bouquet of flowers - tiger lilies of course, they were her favourite - and a fist sized white stone with a short inscription on it.

"Gone to far off places."

It reads. I stare at it for what feels like an eternity, and then I can no longer bring myself to stay. I head back to my car, and once inside, I start to cry.


~~~


When I arrive home, my movements are mechanical, forced, as if my body doesn't want to do anything. And I suppose I don't, not without my Pepper anyway. Nevertheless, I slowly make my way upstairs, each step dragging as if I am wading through waist high water; and head for the bathroom. Inside, I open the medicine cupboard, eyes cursorily scanning the different medications before alighting on a bottle of sleeping pills. Somewhere in the back of my mind I wonder how many I'm going to need - even as I shake two out into the palm of my hand and swallow them dry. The back of the bottle says not to take more than four, they are pretty strong, after all; but I wonder who these doctors are that write those instructions, and if they've ever lost someone like my Pepper. I take a couple more.

My mind wanders back over the inscription on the white stone.

"Gone to far off places."

It haunts me as I stumble into my bedroom and bury myself under the blankets, wanting childishly to stay there and never get up again. Wait for me, Pepper, I think as merciful darkness begins to swallow my vision, I wouldn't go anywhere without you.