Post by linnellisgod on Feb 20, 2007 21:08:28 GMT -5
Here's a short story I wrote for english class and am dying to have looked at... It's a bitof a tragedy, but with a somewhat happy ending. Tell me what y'all think!
Nothing Lasts Forever
Nothing lasts forever.
Humans are mortal creatures. We are not made to last. Our relationships fade and change just as our lives do. Friendships can be ripped apart in moments or simply drift away.
Nothing lasts forever. Not even the things we swore would never change.
The three of them had been nigh inseparable at one time. They’d met in middle school, one grey, chilly fall day and never had they chosen to look back. They were well-matched - each brilliant in his own way (or ‘her’ own as Miri would always swiftly point out), all clever and happy people. The ideal in best friends.
Miri, the eldest was from Italy, though her mother had been born in the Congo. Her full name was Miriam Nasudi Menolli, but nobody who really knew her called her anything but Miri. She was an actress by nature, born to perform. She often though of herself as a blank canvass, ready to be painted with all the fortitudes and flaws of humanity.
Spark was a natural middle child. He had none of the philosophical, people-based comprehension his elder friend had been gifted with - He preferred science, mechanics. Nothing on the planet fascinated him quite as much as the precise science of electricity. Hence the nickname. He was ambitious - he dreamed of power, of worldwide respect. It was his greatest aspiration to invent a machine that would be in every home.
The youngest was Dare, a linguistically brilliant little prankster, mature beyond his years, with a compassionate streak. He was extraordinarily expressive; His sad eyes and cheeky grin made his every emotion infectious. He was the good boy to Spark’s bad boy persona, going through puberty from cute to handsome without a moment’s hitch. He wanted nothing more than to be a high school languages teacher when he grew up.
That had been before.
Beforebeforebefore.
Before they’d graduated. Before Spark had gotten the offer from Mertwine Labs. Before Miri had started her own drama school. Before Dare had been diagnosed with Fletcher's disease. Before Spark had moved away from Halifax and taken control of the company and. Before they had found out that Dare was untreatable. Before they’d been told he was dying.
When they got the news, Dare had already been quite sick. He’d been angry, and then sad, and then bitter, but to some degree, he’d seemed to have expected it.
Miri had not. She’d lost people before, but never had she lost someone as close as Dare. The worst part, she’d decided, was that the person she was losing was still there, dealing with it himself. Dare had always been something of a younger brother to her, and it was her duty, as she saw it, to be strong and help him through it. Though in the end it had been the other way around.
Spark had simply stopped calling.
That had been six months ago.
It was cold. Miri shuddered slightly, glancing up at the grey September sky. The salty wind snatched eagerly at her dark hair, pulling the curly tresses every which way.
The hospital towered above her, an unforgiving oblong etched against the sky. Pulling her coat around her, she slipped across the dirty street and towards its double doors.
It was warmer inside. Rubbing the traces of chill out of her hands, she went to the front desk. The receptionist looked up. It was a new girl. Miri smiled, though she was mildly disappointed that it wasn’t Lily, the nice old Scottish lady who knew her by name.
“Hi. I’m here to visit-”
“Darek Winters, right?” the girl finished for her, “Ms. Lily told me you’d come by. He needs the visits. He’s real sweet about it, but he is bored up there.”
That was Dare, all right. During school he’d once taught himself to juggle during detentions. Miri smiled. “I’ll go right up.”
* * *
Miri ran a hand through her tangled hair, rapping softly on the hospital door. “Dare? C’n I come in?”
“ ‘Bout time!”
Smiling in spite of herself, she yanked the door open. “Sorry I’m late, Dare. I thought you’d be asleep.”
Dare, sitting cross-legged on his bed, put on a look of feigned impatience, tapping his watch. “Just because I’m dying doesn’t mean you don’t have to be punctual. My watch isn’t dying as well, so don’t think I don’t notice when you’re not here.”
She smiled briefly, a weak flickering grin that fled her dark features as fast as it had come. “I wish you wouldn’t talk about it so much,” she said thinly, sinking into one of the many armchairs. The hospital room bore all the hallmarks of long-term residence, as well as all the other hallmarks of long-term residence by Dare. Specifically, a laptop computer, an electric keyboard, a huge stack of movies, a chessboard, and a truly mountainous stack of books. And Tree’stache, of course.
He sighed, eyelids drooping with exhaustion. “I know. I need to make it real, that’s all.”
Miri nodded, berating herself internally for complaining. Dare knew his own needs.
“Thank you for coming by,” he continued, “I was dyi- I was getting really, really bored,” he caught himself. Then he grinned, bloodshot eyes suddenly sparkling. “I mean I can only talk to Tree’stache so much before people start thinking I’m nuts.” He gestured towards the old Bonsai oak in the window.
Miri smiled in spite of herself. Tree’stache was an old, old in-joke. Dare’s grandmother had once given him a hundred-year-old Bonsai tree. The three of them had ended up carving a smily face with a big mustache in the trunk and christening it ‘Treemustache’, or Tree’stache for short.
“Well, I’m here,” she said at long last.
Dare coughed.
Miri glanced outside the bay window at the bitter grey sky, the white-capped sea beyond the coast. Dare loved this kind of weather. A sudden idea sparked in her mind. “Dare,” she asked hesitantly, “do you suppose Dr. Menolli would let you go for a walk?”
Dare glanced outside, longing flickering briefly on his pale face. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’d have to bring the cane.” He cast a resentful glare at the offending aid, which sat not far from the door.
Miri knew he hated it. Dare was prideful in some ways, and he clung to his independence like a monkey to a branch.
He was a lot like a monkey, in some ways. Or he had been. A quick, clever little monkey. Not any more.
It would bother him to use the cane, but he’d enjoy it. He’d love to see the ocean again.
“Do you want me to ask him?” she said gently, leaving the choice to him.
Dare grinned dryly, glancing back at the cane, then outside. “Yeah, sure.”
* * *
It was a little colder outside than she’d quite expected, though not so cold that she needed the gloves in her pocket. Dare had gloves, the old pair he’d gotten from his brother, on Dr. Menolli’s insistence. She suspected he was annoyed by them, because it made it harder to hold the cane.
Watching him walk, she could tell that whatever he said, he needed that cane. His steps were unsteady, his legs weak and shaky as saplings in a windstorm. His hand shook on the cane's handle.
He looked up at the sky, the wind snatching at his black hair. "Wow. It's cold. It's freezing out here. This is brilliant!"
Miri smiled. Only Dare could ever get so much joy from sheer temperature shock. "You're insane," she said aloud, barely restraining a fond giggle.
"Well, obviously!" he took a hesitant step out of the hospital entrance. "Can we go to the pier?"
"Can you walk that far?" she asked, mildly concerned.
He shot her a surprisingly debonair look. "Do not doubt me, my lady." His free hand brushed dark hair out of his eyes.
She giggled again. "Alright. But if you start getting tired..." The sentence trailed off.
"Yeah, yeah. We'll go back." He limped on, pale face flushed with cold.
They made their unsteady but enthusiastic way up Fifth Street, to the coastline piers. The air was warmer here, laden with familiar, humid smells. Salt, fish and coming storm.
They leaned against an iron fence at the edge of one of the higher banks, designed to stop out-of-control cars and particularly stupid tourists from falling onto the tide-washed beach. Dare, propped oddly against the railing, leaned his cane beside him and looked out over the wind-tossed grey sea. Grinning, he leaned out so that he could feel the slight spray of wind-borne droplets of seawater.
"Would you look at that..." he said softly. Miri knew it had been too long since his last visit here. She followed his gaze out to the many islands that dotted the coastal reaches, their sparse population of trees buffeted by the wind. The islands went on for miles, she knew, and beyond them, the Atlantic stretched out, a never-ending blanket of wind and water and nothingness.
Dare tilted his head towards her slightly, not really wanting to take his eyes away from the windswept tapestry of the ocean. "Remember when we went island hopping? You found wild blueberries and Spark saw a whale?" he asked vaguely.
She nodded. It seemed as if it were an age ago. But the memory of the three of them in their kayaks, racing each other from island to island, felt burned into her mind with such intense clarity that it was almost painful.
"Why don't we ever do anything like that anymore?" she asked suddenly, despite every sense telling her not to. She knew the answer.
Dare turned to face her, a weary, sombre look in his depthless grey eyes. "A lot's changed since we were kids, Miri."
A sob rose in her throat, hot and choking, and she doubled up against the fence, dropping her forehead onto the cold metal railing. "Why's it got to change?" she asked pitifuly, "Why couldn't it j-just stay the way it was?"
Dare swallowed. "I wish it could have, but it doesn't work that way. Look, would you really have been happy if we'd just stayed teenagers all our lives?" He raised a jet-black brow. "I don't think you would."
She nodded, sniffling. "I know. You're right. But how come we have to stop being friends?"
"Who says we have to?" he demanded. "I'll still be around for a few months yet."
Miri looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. "And Spark?"
Dare slumped slightly. "Spark," he repeated. "He'll come back. He will, someday. You have to trust him." He smiled slightly, trying to assure her.
Miri shook her head, her hair casting a rich brown curtain over her face. "He doesn't call any more. He never returns my emails or anything."
"I know." Dare smiled again, for her benefit. "He's living his dream. Give him time."
"But we haven't got time!" she sobbed, her head dropping to her arm. "What if he- what if by the time he's ready to talk to us again, you're already-" she choked on the word, her voice slightly muffled by her jacket sleeve.
"Don't give up on him."
Miri swallowed, tilting her head back up. "I know. I shouldn't." She wiped at her eyes. "Why'd he have to leave in the first place?" she asked with a sigh, even though she knew the answer.
Dare gave her a slightly reprimanding glance. "It's his dream."
"I know, I know." She sniffed. "It's just it was after he left that everything started... going wrong. And... it would've been so much easier to take if he'd been there. Or if we could have at least talked to him..."
Dare said nothing, but nodded in ruefull agreement.
All was silent. The only sound was the steady crash of the breakers on the rocky beach.
"He left his watch here," she said at last. Dare looked puzzled, so she continued. "When he left. He forgot it in my kitchen the day before. It was his favourite watch, and I called him about it- I thought he'd come back to get it and we could see him. But he never did." Her face hardened. "Still, he's probably got a better one now. Head of the company and everything. He's probably got hundreds of watches." Her lip twitched slightly.
Dare gave her another chastizing glance. She scowled very slightly, and looked back to the ocean.
They said nothing for several minutes. In the distance, a gull shreiked.
"Miri," Dare asked suddenly, "What are you going to do after I'm gone?"
Miri gave him a slightly questioning look. "I'm going to cremate you. Like you wanted."
"No, no. What are you going to do with your life? Will you be okay?" Concern pinched at the corners of his eyes.
She took a deep breath. "Not at first. I'll...move on, though. I'll make other friends, and... I'll be fine." She prayed it was the answer he wanted, because she wasn't quite sure if it was true.
He gave her a very knowing look. "I hope that's true. Because I don't want you unhappy. Okay?"
Miri smiled, though there was more sadness in it than anything else. "Okay." She'd have to try. For him if not for herself.
"Good. But... don't give up on Spark. He'll come back," Dare said firmly, "Trust me."
She said nothing. If only he was right...
More silence.
"We should go," Miri said at last.
"What time is it?"
She glanced at her watch. "Nearly three. We've been out here for almost an hour. We'd better get going."
Dare made a face, but he picked up his cane. "Okay."
She followed him, casting a thoughtful glance at her watch. It was ancient. She'd had it more than ten years. "Hm. We'd better hurry; Dr. Menolli'll kill us if you get in after four, and this watch is probably a little off, too. I should probably get another. It's bound to stop working soon, even if it already hasn't."
Dare looked surprised. "I thought you loved that watch."
"I did. In high school."
"Ah." He frowned. "Well you should probably get a new one then. But keep it."
"Why?" she asked, though she privately sort of knew she'd never be able to throw it out anyway.
"It's still good, isn't it? Besides, do you really think you could throw that thing out?"
He'd hit the nail on the head. Dare was like that. "I guess you're right," she replied, glancing at the watch again. This time there was fondness in her gaze.
Dare was out of breath when they reached the hospital, though they hadn't really gone very fast. Miri walked him up to his room, to make sure he got in safely.
She paused at his room's door, just as he was about to go in. "Dare?"
"Uh huh?"
"I think I'm going to call Spark tonight."
She half-wanted him to tell her it wasn't a good idea, that he needed time. In all honesty, she didn't want to talk to Spark. True, she missed him so much it hurt, but it was the old Spark she'd missed. Not the new, cold voice she'd been met with over crackly long distance the last time she'd called.
But Dare simply grinned and said, "Good idea."
"You don't think he might... not answer, or not want to talk to me?"
He shrugged, optimistic as ever. "It's possible. But hey, who's to say you can't try?"
He's right. She ruffled his black hair fondly with one hand. "Yeah, I guess. Bye, Dare, I'll see you on Sunday."
His hand rested on the doorknob. "Bye, Miri." He turned briefly to face her, the door half-open. "Have faith in him." Then he slipped into his room, and Miri was alone.
* * *
Miri sat in her living room, a glass in one hand, and glanced nervously at the telephone. It was getting late. She couldn't put it off any more, or he'd leave work and she'd miss him altogether.
Better to get it done now. Steeling her courage, she seized the reciever and punched in his office number.
ring.
ring.
"Matthew D'Arcy speaking."
Her heart leapt into her throat at the sound of his voice. "Hey, Spark!" she cried, momentarily joyful.
click.
She stared blankly at the telephone, the click resounding through her memory like a gunshot. He'd hung up.
He hadn't even spoken to her. Just hung up, like she was some pesky telemarketer and he had better things to care about.
He wasn't coming back. Dare was wrong.
* * * Three months later, Matthew "Spark" D'Arcy, alone in his office, picked up the phone.
He was busy. He hadn't stopped to look at the caller display. Though if he had, he would have seen 'Halifax General Hospital' displayed in bright green letters.
"Matthew D'Arcy speaking," he answered, just as he always did, mentally preparing himself for a bumbling low-level who'd be too terrified by the knowledge that he was speaking to the young CEO to make any sense whatsoever.
"Dare's dying."
Miri. Again. "I'm aware of that," he replied coolly.
Her voice crackled with intensity. 'He's dying. His lungs are failing. The doctors don't give him more than three days." There was fear in her voice, and sadness. There was a sharp crackle as he drew in a hiss of breath.
But Miri was an actress, he reminded himself. And they'd given Dare almost a year to begin with. Surely it wasn't over yet. No, he decided, this had to be a trick. Miri was trying to fool him into coming back to Halifax and leaving his dreams behind.
"I'm... busy," he said in a final tone, and clicked down the reciever.
On the other end, in a booth outside the auto-immune ward, Miri put her head to the plexiglass wall and broke down into tears.
* * *
The wake had been awful. There had been only thirty chairs for over fifty people, the priest had a lisp, and when they'd finally gone outside to scatter his ashes in the ocean it had been so windy that about six hats had ended up in the atlantic as well.
Which, Miri reflected, was exactly what Dare would have wanted. He'd have taken huge pleasure out of the knowledge that he was annoying them from beyond the grave.
The after-service was small. Only about ten people, besides Miri herslef, had chosen to stay. The people who had loved him best, plus everyone interested in the open bar.
Miri sat at the bar, drinking gingerale. She felt numb. Like all the feeling had been ripped out of her with a spoon. The gingerale was too warm.
A hand rested briefly on the bar counter, and someone took a seat beside her. She realized who it was about half a second before she turned to look.
"Hello, Miri," said Spark.
Miri took a deep breath. "So you're here," she said, in as calm a tone as she could muster.
"Yes." He bit his lip slightly. He no longer underdressed, she noticed. his suit was expensive and formal, and his light blond hair hadn't been gelled up, either. he probably never did that anymore, she reflected briefly. As a spunky, rebellious teen, he'd gotten away with it, but as a young CEO it would have made him look like a jerk.
Then again, he always had been a bit of a jerk.
But he looked... different now. like an adult; one who had learnt humility, and perhaps at a price. apology was written all over his pale features.
There was a long moment of silence. Two faces, set in emotion, watching each other with unblinking eyes.
Then Miri threw her arms around him, tighter than ought to have been possible. "Spark, you're here... Dare said you'de come..."
Spark, squeezed in his old friend's embrace, made an uncomfortable noise. "Mph. THat kid always did know everything."
She released him from the crushing hug. "Did you see the service?"
He looked uncomfortable. "No. I... missed it. I'm sorry."
She smiled. "That's alright. It was horrible anyway."
Spark grinned ruefully. "Something tells me he would have wanted it that way."
"He did." She returned his brief grin, but it slipped off her face. "Are you... going to be staying for long?" Her voice betrayed no desperation; it seemed almost too much to hope.
"Well, I..." Spark seized his briefcase and flipped open the catches, retrieving an appointment calendar from the godawful mess within. He began to flip through the pages, but something made him pause. Then he nodded to himself and shut the calendar with a snap. He stuffed it back into the briefcase and shrugged. "I guess I could stay a while. I'm entitled to some vacation time, aren't I?"
Miri broke into a huge smile. Dare was right.
Spark returned it. Then he bit his lip, as if he'd just remembered something. "Oh, and- I've been meaning to ask- Have you, eh, seen my watch? I think I left it here..." He trailed off. Miri was grinning.
"What?"
She hid it behind a hand. "Oh, nothing. Don't worry, I know exactly where it is."
Nothing lasts forever.
Humans are mortal creatures. We are not made to last. Our relationships fade and change just as our lives do. Friendships can be ripped apart in moments or simply drift away.
Nothing lasts forever. Not even the things we swore would never change.
But hey, who's to say we can't try?
Nothing Lasts Forever
Nothing lasts forever.
Humans are mortal creatures. We are not made to last. Our relationships fade and change just as our lives do. Friendships can be ripped apart in moments or simply drift away.
Nothing lasts forever. Not even the things we swore would never change.
The three of them had been nigh inseparable at one time. They’d met in middle school, one grey, chilly fall day and never had they chosen to look back. They were well-matched - each brilliant in his own way (or ‘her’ own as Miri would always swiftly point out), all clever and happy people. The ideal in best friends.
Miri, the eldest was from Italy, though her mother had been born in the Congo. Her full name was Miriam Nasudi Menolli, but nobody who really knew her called her anything but Miri. She was an actress by nature, born to perform. She often though of herself as a blank canvass, ready to be painted with all the fortitudes and flaws of humanity.
Spark was a natural middle child. He had none of the philosophical, people-based comprehension his elder friend had been gifted with - He preferred science, mechanics. Nothing on the planet fascinated him quite as much as the precise science of electricity. Hence the nickname. He was ambitious - he dreamed of power, of worldwide respect. It was his greatest aspiration to invent a machine that would be in every home.
The youngest was Dare, a linguistically brilliant little prankster, mature beyond his years, with a compassionate streak. He was extraordinarily expressive; His sad eyes and cheeky grin made his every emotion infectious. He was the good boy to Spark’s bad boy persona, going through puberty from cute to handsome without a moment’s hitch. He wanted nothing more than to be a high school languages teacher when he grew up.
That had been before.
Beforebeforebefore.
Before they’d graduated. Before Spark had gotten the offer from Mertwine Labs. Before Miri had started her own drama school. Before Dare had been diagnosed with Fletcher's disease. Before Spark had moved away from Halifax and taken control of the company and. Before they had found out that Dare was untreatable. Before they’d been told he was dying.
When they got the news, Dare had already been quite sick. He’d been angry, and then sad, and then bitter, but to some degree, he’d seemed to have expected it.
Miri had not. She’d lost people before, but never had she lost someone as close as Dare. The worst part, she’d decided, was that the person she was losing was still there, dealing with it himself. Dare had always been something of a younger brother to her, and it was her duty, as she saw it, to be strong and help him through it. Though in the end it had been the other way around.
Spark had simply stopped calling.
That had been six months ago.
It was cold. Miri shuddered slightly, glancing up at the grey September sky. The salty wind snatched eagerly at her dark hair, pulling the curly tresses every which way.
The hospital towered above her, an unforgiving oblong etched against the sky. Pulling her coat around her, she slipped across the dirty street and towards its double doors.
It was warmer inside. Rubbing the traces of chill out of her hands, she went to the front desk. The receptionist looked up. It was a new girl. Miri smiled, though she was mildly disappointed that it wasn’t Lily, the nice old Scottish lady who knew her by name.
“Hi. I’m here to visit-”
“Darek Winters, right?” the girl finished for her, “Ms. Lily told me you’d come by. He needs the visits. He’s real sweet about it, but he is bored up there.”
That was Dare, all right. During school he’d once taught himself to juggle during detentions. Miri smiled. “I’ll go right up.”
* * *
Miri ran a hand through her tangled hair, rapping softly on the hospital door. “Dare? C’n I come in?”
“ ‘Bout time!”
Smiling in spite of herself, she yanked the door open. “Sorry I’m late, Dare. I thought you’d be asleep.”
Dare, sitting cross-legged on his bed, put on a look of feigned impatience, tapping his watch. “Just because I’m dying doesn’t mean you don’t have to be punctual. My watch isn’t dying as well, so don’t think I don’t notice when you’re not here.”
She smiled briefly, a weak flickering grin that fled her dark features as fast as it had come. “I wish you wouldn’t talk about it so much,” she said thinly, sinking into one of the many armchairs. The hospital room bore all the hallmarks of long-term residence, as well as all the other hallmarks of long-term residence by Dare. Specifically, a laptop computer, an electric keyboard, a huge stack of movies, a chessboard, and a truly mountainous stack of books. And Tree’stache, of course.
He sighed, eyelids drooping with exhaustion. “I know. I need to make it real, that’s all.”
Miri nodded, berating herself internally for complaining. Dare knew his own needs.
“Thank you for coming by,” he continued, “I was dyi- I was getting really, really bored,” he caught himself. Then he grinned, bloodshot eyes suddenly sparkling. “I mean I can only talk to Tree’stache so much before people start thinking I’m nuts.” He gestured towards the old Bonsai oak in the window.
Miri smiled in spite of herself. Tree’stache was an old, old in-joke. Dare’s grandmother had once given him a hundred-year-old Bonsai tree. The three of them had ended up carving a smily face with a big mustache in the trunk and christening it ‘Treemustache’, or Tree’stache for short.
“Well, I’m here,” she said at long last.
Dare coughed.
Miri glanced outside the bay window at the bitter grey sky, the white-capped sea beyond the coast. Dare loved this kind of weather. A sudden idea sparked in her mind. “Dare,” she asked hesitantly, “do you suppose Dr. Menolli would let you go for a walk?”
Dare glanced outside, longing flickering briefly on his pale face. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’d have to bring the cane.” He cast a resentful glare at the offending aid, which sat not far from the door.
Miri knew he hated it. Dare was prideful in some ways, and he clung to his independence like a monkey to a branch.
He was a lot like a monkey, in some ways. Or he had been. A quick, clever little monkey. Not any more.
It would bother him to use the cane, but he’d enjoy it. He’d love to see the ocean again.
“Do you want me to ask him?” she said gently, leaving the choice to him.
Dare grinned dryly, glancing back at the cane, then outside. “Yeah, sure.”
* * *
It was a little colder outside than she’d quite expected, though not so cold that she needed the gloves in her pocket. Dare had gloves, the old pair he’d gotten from his brother, on Dr. Menolli’s insistence. She suspected he was annoyed by them, because it made it harder to hold the cane.
Watching him walk, she could tell that whatever he said, he needed that cane. His steps were unsteady, his legs weak and shaky as saplings in a windstorm. His hand shook on the cane's handle.
He looked up at the sky, the wind snatching at his black hair. "Wow. It's cold. It's freezing out here. This is brilliant!"
Miri smiled. Only Dare could ever get so much joy from sheer temperature shock. "You're insane," she said aloud, barely restraining a fond giggle.
"Well, obviously!" he took a hesitant step out of the hospital entrance. "Can we go to the pier?"
"Can you walk that far?" she asked, mildly concerned.
He shot her a surprisingly debonair look. "Do not doubt me, my lady." His free hand brushed dark hair out of his eyes.
She giggled again. "Alright. But if you start getting tired..." The sentence trailed off.
"Yeah, yeah. We'll go back." He limped on, pale face flushed with cold.
They made their unsteady but enthusiastic way up Fifth Street, to the coastline piers. The air was warmer here, laden with familiar, humid smells. Salt, fish and coming storm.
They leaned against an iron fence at the edge of one of the higher banks, designed to stop out-of-control cars and particularly stupid tourists from falling onto the tide-washed beach. Dare, propped oddly against the railing, leaned his cane beside him and looked out over the wind-tossed grey sea. Grinning, he leaned out so that he could feel the slight spray of wind-borne droplets of seawater.
"Would you look at that..." he said softly. Miri knew it had been too long since his last visit here. She followed his gaze out to the many islands that dotted the coastal reaches, their sparse population of trees buffeted by the wind. The islands went on for miles, she knew, and beyond them, the Atlantic stretched out, a never-ending blanket of wind and water and nothingness.
Dare tilted his head towards her slightly, not really wanting to take his eyes away from the windswept tapestry of the ocean. "Remember when we went island hopping? You found wild blueberries and Spark saw a whale?" he asked vaguely.
She nodded. It seemed as if it were an age ago. But the memory of the three of them in their kayaks, racing each other from island to island, felt burned into her mind with such intense clarity that it was almost painful.
"Why don't we ever do anything like that anymore?" she asked suddenly, despite every sense telling her not to. She knew the answer.
Dare turned to face her, a weary, sombre look in his depthless grey eyes. "A lot's changed since we were kids, Miri."
A sob rose in her throat, hot and choking, and she doubled up against the fence, dropping her forehead onto the cold metal railing. "Why's it got to change?" she asked pitifuly, "Why couldn't it j-just stay the way it was?"
Dare swallowed. "I wish it could have, but it doesn't work that way. Look, would you really have been happy if we'd just stayed teenagers all our lives?" He raised a jet-black brow. "I don't think you would."
She nodded, sniffling. "I know. You're right. But how come we have to stop being friends?"
"Who says we have to?" he demanded. "I'll still be around for a few months yet."
Miri looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. "And Spark?"
Dare slumped slightly. "Spark," he repeated. "He'll come back. He will, someday. You have to trust him." He smiled slightly, trying to assure her.
Miri shook her head, her hair casting a rich brown curtain over her face. "He doesn't call any more. He never returns my emails or anything."
"I know." Dare smiled again, for her benefit. "He's living his dream. Give him time."
"But we haven't got time!" she sobbed, her head dropping to her arm. "What if he- what if by the time he's ready to talk to us again, you're already-" she choked on the word, her voice slightly muffled by her jacket sleeve.
"Don't give up on him."
Miri swallowed, tilting her head back up. "I know. I shouldn't." She wiped at her eyes. "Why'd he have to leave in the first place?" she asked with a sigh, even though she knew the answer.
Dare gave her a slightly reprimanding glance. "It's his dream."
"I know, I know." She sniffed. "It's just it was after he left that everything started... going wrong. And... it would've been so much easier to take if he'd been there. Or if we could have at least talked to him..."
Dare said nothing, but nodded in ruefull agreement.
All was silent. The only sound was the steady crash of the breakers on the rocky beach.
"He left his watch here," she said at last. Dare looked puzzled, so she continued. "When he left. He forgot it in my kitchen the day before. It was his favourite watch, and I called him about it- I thought he'd come back to get it and we could see him. But he never did." Her face hardened. "Still, he's probably got a better one now. Head of the company and everything. He's probably got hundreds of watches." Her lip twitched slightly.
Dare gave her another chastizing glance. She scowled very slightly, and looked back to the ocean.
They said nothing for several minutes. In the distance, a gull shreiked.
"Miri," Dare asked suddenly, "What are you going to do after I'm gone?"
Miri gave him a slightly questioning look. "I'm going to cremate you. Like you wanted."
"No, no. What are you going to do with your life? Will you be okay?" Concern pinched at the corners of his eyes.
She took a deep breath. "Not at first. I'll...move on, though. I'll make other friends, and... I'll be fine." She prayed it was the answer he wanted, because she wasn't quite sure if it was true.
He gave her a very knowing look. "I hope that's true. Because I don't want you unhappy. Okay?"
Miri smiled, though there was more sadness in it than anything else. "Okay." She'd have to try. For him if not for herself.
"Good. But... don't give up on Spark. He'll come back," Dare said firmly, "Trust me."
She said nothing. If only he was right...
More silence.
"We should go," Miri said at last.
"What time is it?"
She glanced at her watch. "Nearly three. We've been out here for almost an hour. We'd better get going."
Dare made a face, but he picked up his cane. "Okay."
She followed him, casting a thoughtful glance at her watch. It was ancient. She'd had it more than ten years. "Hm. We'd better hurry; Dr. Menolli'll kill us if you get in after four, and this watch is probably a little off, too. I should probably get another. It's bound to stop working soon, even if it already hasn't."
Dare looked surprised. "I thought you loved that watch."
"I did. In high school."
"Ah." He frowned. "Well you should probably get a new one then. But keep it."
"Why?" she asked, though she privately sort of knew she'd never be able to throw it out anyway.
"It's still good, isn't it? Besides, do you really think you could throw that thing out?"
He'd hit the nail on the head. Dare was like that. "I guess you're right," she replied, glancing at the watch again. This time there was fondness in her gaze.
Dare was out of breath when they reached the hospital, though they hadn't really gone very fast. Miri walked him up to his room, to make sure he got in safely.
She paused at his room's door, just as he was about to go in. "Dare?"
"Uh huh?"
"I think I'm going to call Spark tonight."
She half-wanted him to tell her it wasn't a good idea, that he needed time. In all honesty, she didn't want to talk to Spark. True, she missed him so much it hurt, but it was the old Spark she'd missed. Not the new, cold voice she'd been met with over crackly long distance the last time she'd called.
But Dare simply grinned and said, "Good idea."
"You don't think he might... not answer, or not want to talk to me?"
He shrugged, optimistic as ever. "It's possible. But hey, who's to say you can't try?"
He's right. She ruffled his black hair fondly with one hand. "Yeah, I guess. Bye, Dare, I'll see you on Sunday."
His hand rested on the doorknob. "Bye, Miri." He turned briefly to face her, the door half-open. "Have faith in him." Then he slipped into his room, and Miri was alone.
* * *
Miri sat in her living room, a glass in one hand, and glanced nervously at the telephone. It was getting late. She couldn't put it off any more, or he'd leave work and she'd miss him altogether.
Better to get it done now. Steeling her courage, she seized the reciever and punched in his office number.
ring.
ring.
"Matthew D'Arcy speaking."
Her heart leapt into her throat at the sound of his voice. "Hey, Spark!" she cried, momentarily joyful.
click.
She stared blankly at the telephone, the click resounding through her memory like a gunshot. He'd hung up.
He hadn't even spoken to her. Just hung up, like she was some pesky telemarketer and he had better things to care about.
He wasn't coming back. Dare was wrong.
* * * Three months later, Matthew "Spark" D'Arcy, alone in his office, picked up the phone.
He was busy. He hadn't stopped to look at the caller display. Though if he had, he would have seen 'Halifax General Hospital' displayed in bright green letters.
"Matthew D'Arcy speaking," he answered, just as he always did, mentally preparing himself for a bumbling low-level who'd be too terrified by the knowledge that he was speaking to the young CEO to make any sense whatsoever.
"Dare's dying."
Miri. Again. "I'm aware of that," he replied coolly.
Her voice crackled with intensity. 'He's dying. His lungs are failing. The doctors don't give him more than three days." There was fear in her voice, and sadness. There was a sharp crackle as he drew in a hiss of breath.
But Miri was an actress, he reminded himself. And they'd given Dare almost a year to begin with. Surely it wasn't over yet. No, he decided, this had to be a trick. Miri was trying to fool him into coming back to Halifax and leaving his dreams behind.
"I'm... busy," he said in a final tone, and clicked down the reciever.
On the other end, in a booth outside the auto-immune ward, Miri put her head to the plexiglass wall and broke down into tears.
* * *
The wake had been awful. There had been only thirty chairs for over fifty people, the priest had a lisp, and when they'd finally gone outside to scatter his ashes in the ocean it had been so windy that about six hats had ended up in the atlantic as well.
Which, Miri reflected, was exactly what Dare would have wanted. He'd have taken huge pleasure out of the knowledge that he was annoying them from beyond the grave.
The after-service was small. Only about ten people, besides Miri herslef, had chosen to stay. The people who had loved him best, plus everyone interested in the open bar.
Miri sat at the bar, drinking gingerale. She felt numb. Like all the feeling had been ripped out of her with a spoon. The gingerale was too warm.
A hand rested briefly on the bar counter, and someone took a seat beside her. She realized who it was about half a second before she turned to look.
"Hello, Miri," said Spark.
Miri took a deep breath. "So you're here," she said, in as calm a tone as she could muster.
"Yes." He bit his lip slightly. He no longer underdressed, she noticed. his suit was expensive and formal, and his light blond hair hadn't been gelled up, either. he probably never did that anymore, she reflected briefly. As a spunky, rebellious teen, he'd gotten away with it, but as a young CEO it would have made him look like a jerk.
Then again, he always had been a bit of a jerk.
But he looked... different now. like an adult; one who had learnt humility, and perhaps at a price. apology was written all over his pale features.
There was a long moment of silence. Two faces, set in emotion, watching each other with unblinking eyes.
Then Miri threw her arms around him, tighter than ought to have been possible. "Spark, you're here... Dare said you'de come..."
Spark, squeezed in his old friend's embrace, made an uncomfortable noise. "Mph. THat kid always did know everything."
She released him from the crushing hug. "Did you see the service?"
He looked uncomfortable. "No. I... missed it. I'm sorry."
She smiled. "That's alright. It was horrible anyway."
Spark grinned ruefully. "Something tells me he would have wanted it that way."
"He did." She returned his brief grin, but it slipped off her face. "Are you... going to be staying for long?" Her voice betrayed no desperation; it seemed almost too much to hope.
"Well, I..." Spark seized his briefcase and flipped open the catches, retrieving an appointment calendar from the godawful mess within. He began to flip through the pages, but something made him pause. Then he nodded to himself and shut the calendar with a snap. He stuffed it back into the briefcase and shrugged. "I guess I could stay a while. I'm entitled to some vacation time, aren't I?"
Miri broke into a huge smile. Dare was right.
Spark returned it. Then he bit his lip, as if he'd just remembered something. "Oh, and- I've been meaning to ask- Have you, eh, seen my watch? I think I left it here..." He trailed off. Miri was grinning.
"What?"
She hid it behind a hand. "Oh, nothing. Don't worry, I know exactly where it is."
Nothing lasts forever.
Humans are mortal creatures. We are not made to last. Our relationships fade and change just as our lives do. Friendships can be ripped apart in moments or simply drift away.
Nothing lasts forever. Not even the things we swore would never change.
But hey, who's to say we can't try?
