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By Root 410 0

Mary again. He had spent most of the day in bed with a headache that stubbornly refused to go away. In trying to sleep he employed every trick in the book, but counting sheep, hot milk, herbal remedies and even a sleeping tablet didn’t help. His mind refused to comply – it was too busy picking apart the previous night’s revelation. Part of him had wanted to finish the tale – perhaps if he confided in Mary he would finally be free of that which gnawed at his insides. Part of him wanted her to know everything but the rest stopped the words in his head pouring out of his mouth. He just couldn’t do it. And now, worse, he feared he couldn’t bring himself to face her. I’ve lost her. I deserve to lose her. She’s better off without me. Oh, God, I can’t stand it!

He was in the kitchen taking two painkillers when the bell rang. The door had been on the latch since Jerry Letter had dropped in a parcel that Sam hadn’t bothered to open. Mary didn’t wait for him to answer: she walked into the kitchen with her car keys in hand. “Let’s go,” she said, turning on her heel.

“What?”

“You heard me. Let’s go.” She stopped. “I’m waiting.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m in my sweats, for God’s sake!” He looked down at his unsightly navy sweatpants in an attempt to avoid eye contact.

“We’re going,” she said, with a look that meant business.

“I have nothing more to say.”

“There is nothing more I want to hear,” she replied.

“You drive me crazy,” he said, following her to the car.

“You were always crazy. I just highlight it.”

She smiled at him and he felt like crying. I’ve disappointed everyone who has ever cared about me.

They drove in silence for at least twenty minutes before he asked about their destination. “You’ll see when you get there,” she said, and turned up the volume on her CD player so that Marilyn Manson’s ode to “Beautiful People” filled the car. He turned it down and looked at her but she continued to stare straight ahead.

“What is this?” he asked.

“An ending,” she said.

“An ending?”

“Everything has to end. You need peace. I need to give it to you.”

“And you think you can?” He snorted.

“I don’t know, but there’s no harm in trying.” Her eyes were fixed on the road. “And then we’ll say goodbye.”

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I never wanted to be hurt.”

“I’m damaged goods.” He sighed.

“We’re all damaged.”

He fell silent. Not like me.

It was close to eight o’clock when they arrived at the small strand. Mary parked the car on the hill and handed a flask of coffee to Sam. She pointed at a spiral sandy pathway that led to the beach below. “Follow the path,” she said.

“What about you?”

“This isn’t about me.” She smiled.

He opened the door, but before he could step out onto the cold sand, she grasped his arm. He faced her with a quizzical look.

“It’s going to be OK,” she said, pulled him to her and kissed his forehead. “Everything’s going to be fine.” She hugged him tight, as a mother would a child. Then, without another word, she released him and pointed again to the pathway.

The glistening water captured him. The tide was high and pink under the last of the evening sun. The beach was empty save for a woman and her dog, and a lonely figure sitting close to the lapping tide. He stood for a moment breathing in the salty air.

The man turned and Sam saw it was Mary’s father. He smiled at Sam and beckoned to him. Sam approached and Jack patted the sand beside him. “Sit,” he said.

He complied. “Jack?” What the hell was going on?

“In the flesh,” Jack replied.

“I’m not sure what this is,” Sam said.

“Me neither,” Jack replied, with a sigh, “but Mary has a way of getting people to carry out her will. She’s just like her mother that way.”

“What is it she wants?”

“She wants me to tell you a story,” Jack replied softly.

“A story?” Sam asked, perplexed.

“I’ve only ever shared it with one human being and that was my daughter, and only because after Ben died I had an inkling she’d try to follow him. I needed her to know that a lifetime of happiness can’t be destroyed in one moment, no matter how terrible or what is lost