Status: work in progress
Till the End of the Line
fourteen
Everything was strangely quiet. Sarah and James had said goodbye to Olivia, who had gone to bed soon afterwards. The minute she had left the room, James went back to sleep again, which left Sarah awake on her own. She sat on the sofa with her laptop, staring at the little clock in the corner of the screen. A quarter to one: only fifteen minutes left until their departure. Sarah felt slightly empty, as if her thoughts and feelings had been put on hold and would only continue when those fifteen minutes were up.
Fourteen minutes.
She glanced at Bucky, who was sleeping soundly on the bed. She could feel the familiar flutter in her stomach again when she looked at him. And for a moment it was as if he was still holding her, as if she could still feel his touch on her skin, as if she was still looking into his eyes…
Those eyes… As blue as a lake on a winter's morning, but so often troubled by traces of sadness and silent torment, which seemed to have settled just below the surface, like dead leaves in a still pool. But in that moment, Sarah had seen something different in them, something new and hopeful; a sudden clarity, as if spring had finally come, melting away the ice on the frozen pool, taking with it those withered leaves that'd stained the water far too long.
Sarah shook her head, as if by shaking it she could actually rid herself of what she was feeling, because (whatever it was) it was messing her up. She cared about James, and she knew he cared about her, but she couldn't, she shouldn't let her head run over with ideas that suggested something more than friendship between them, simply because they had shared one particularly strong moment of closeness.
No, she needed to get a grip on herself and focus her thoughts on the journey ahead.
Ten minutes.
Sarah fixed her eyes on the laptop again. Hoping to distract herself, she opened her inbox, which she hadn't check in a while anyway. She scrolled absent-mindedly through the list of new messages, hardly registering what exactly she was looking at, until one email suddenly jumped out at her. Almost jumping herself, she quickly sat up straight. The subject box simply said "RE:", the sender: Aidan. For some reason, Sarah's heart beat a little faster when she clicked to open the message.
By the time she finished reading, Sarah's eyes were filled with tears. Of all the things she'd had to let go of (her apartment, her job, her friends), this was the hardest one. She'd been so preoccupied with everything else that she almost forgot about her family. They were always far away, but knowing that she could reach them whenever she wanted or needed to made it seem as if they weren't. Now she had to face the fact that contacting them wouldn't be possible, even if she wanted to. And that horrible sense of dread washed over her again, reminding her of the small, though substantial, chance that she might never see them again. She'd been able to say goodbye to Olivia, under false pretences maybe, but she didn't have the opportunity to see her mother, or father, or Aidan, before departing.
Three minutes.
She wiped her face with her sleeve, closed the laptop, and took several deep breaths to steady herself.
One minute.
She rose from her seat and made her way slowly to the bed, where she sat down on the edge and gently shook Bucky by the arm. He looked up sleepily.
"It's time."
Fourteen minutes.
She glanced at Bucky, who was sleeping soundly on the bed. She could feel the familiar flutter in her stomach again when she looked at him. And for a moment it was as if he was still holding her, as if she could still feel his touch on her skin, as if she was still looking into his eyes…
Those eyes… As blue as a lake on a winter's morning, but so often troubled by traces of sadness and silent torment, which seemed to have settled just below the surface, like dead leaves in a still pool. But in that moment, Sarah had seen something different in them, something new and hopeful; a sudden clarity, as if spring had finally come, melting away the ice on the frozen pool, taking with it those withered leaves that'd stained the water far too long.
Sarah shook her head, as if by shaking it she could actually rid herself of what she was feeling, because (whatever it was) it was messing her up. She cared about James, and she knew he cared about her, but she couldn't, she shouldn't let her head run over with ideas that suggested something more than friendship between them, simply because they had shared one particularly strong moment of closeness.
No, she needed to get a grip on herself and focus her thoughts on the journey ahead.
Ten minutes.
Sarah fixed her eyes on the laptop again. Hoping to distract herself, she opened her inbox, which she hadn't check in a while anyway. She scrolled absent-mindedly through the list of new messages, hardly registering what exactly she was looking at, until one email suddenly jumped out at her. Almost jumping herself, she quickly sat up straight. The subject box simply said "RE:", the sender: Aidan. For some reason, Sarah's heart beat a little faster when she clicked to open the message.
"Dear Sarah,
Things are the same here, they always are: mum is still fanatical about her book-club (never thought one of her fancies would last longer than a month, like they usually do), dad's still trying to cope with retirement. He's taken me fishing a couple of times, which was fun, but he'll have to get a new hobby soon as the season's almost over. And I'm still looking for an apartment, but it seems that with my budget I can't afford anything bigger than a toilet stall. So, I'm keeping mum and dad company until I win the lottery. Or marry rich. Or both.
I hope you get back on your feet soon; as an expert on hanging around the house most of the time I can tell you it's surprising how quickly it gets boring. And we can't have two layabouts in the family, can we now?
I don't think any of us here are pleased with the prospect of hearing even less from you, but we accept it if you promise to call and mail us twice as much as you used to do as soon as your schedule frees up a bit. Seriously, though, we all miss you, especially me. It'd be nice if you'd contact us (or at least me) a bit more than you do now, even if it's just to say you're okay. Anyway, mum and dad send their love, and me too of course.
Take care,
Aidan."
Things are the same here, they always are: mum is still fanatical about her book-club (never thought one of her fancies would last longer than a month, like they usually do), dad's still trying to cope with retirement. He's taken me fishing a couple of times, which was fun, but he'll have to get a new hobby soon as the season's almost over. And I'm still looking for an apartment, but it seems that with my budget I can't afford anything bigger than a toilet stall. So, I'm keeping mum and dad company until I win the lottery. Or marry rich. Or both.
I hope you get back on your feet soon; as an expert on hanging around the house most of the time I can tell you it's surprising how quickly it gets boring. And we can't have two layabouts in the family, can we now?
I don't think any of us here are pleased with the prospect of hearing even less from you, but we accept it if you promise to call and mail us twice as much as you used to do as soon as your schedule frees up a bit. Seriously, though, we all miss you, especially me. It'd be nice if you'd contact us (or at least me) a bit more than you do now, even if it's just to say you're okay. Anyway, mum and dad send their love, and me too of course.
Take care,
Aidan."
By the time she finished reading, Sarah's eyes were filled with tears. Of all the things she'd had to let go of (her apartment, her job, her friends), this was the hardest one. She'd been so preoccupied with everything else that she almost forgot about her family. They were always far away, but knowing that she could reach them whenever she wanted or needed to made it seem as if they weren't. Now she had to face the fact that contacting them wouldn't be possible, even if she wanted to. And that horrible sense of dread washed over her again, reminding her of the small, though substantial, chance that she might never see them again. She'd been able to say goodbye to Olivia, under false pretences maybe, but she didn't have the opportunity to see her mother, or father, or Aidan, before departing.
Three minutes.
She wiped her face with her sleeve, closed the laptop, and took several deep breaths to steady herself.
One minute.
She rose from her seat and made her way slowly to the bed, where she sat down on the edge and gently shook Bucky by the arm. He looked up sleepily.
"It's time."
♠ ♠ ♠
So, shortest chapter yet, but I felt like this deserved to stand on its own. Next chapter will probably take some time, so in the meantime it'd be nice to hear what everyone thinks about the story so far or what your expectations are for the rest of the story. You can send me a message or leave me a comment, I'd really appreciate it if you took the time. I'm also happy to get messages about something other than the story; get to know my readers a little bit (because so far I sort of feel like I'm writing for no one, even though I know a lot of people read the story). As ever: thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!