Yellow Boat (Goodbye, Pt. 2 of 2)

Continued from Yellow Boat (Goodbye, Pt. 1 of 2)

She spoke so graciously, thankful for the memories. Not bitter, angry, or betrayed. I found her poise remarkable. I sensed what the memories and Josh had meant for her. But, despite the pain she spoke truthfully and with endearment. However, I had begun to get frustrated. I could not understand Josh's actions. 'How could he have just left her like that? Without a word! She thought of him as her best friend, and he was the world to her,' I thought. 'Where is he now? Did he forget? Did he die? If he weren't dead, the least he could do was say bye,' my thoughts lingered.

Unsettled, I bursted. "Aren't you sad?"

She was a little taken back. She answered, "Of course I am, Luke."

"Aren't you angry?" I expounded.

Emily frowned at me. I had stirred an unchartered emotion in her. I immediately regretted having darted Emily such reckless questions. But, she collected herself and spoke, softly, "I was, Luke. When Josh didn't come back on the fourth summer, I waited and waited desperately. I was worried, tired, and angry. But, not now."

A bit apologetic, I took a moment to approach. "Why not?" I asked her.

"Because I cherish the friendship we had. He had shown me so much. Yes, I was angry and I felt betrayed, thinking that he had forgotten me. At the same time, I was worried sick if he were okay. But, as time grew, I also realised something. Friendship is a blessing, Luke. And you cannot own blessings or make them your own," said Emily. She seemed at peace.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I loved Josh, and he was my best friend. But, such things as friendship and love are blessings given to you. They are not earned, and they cannot be ransomed. And to have been given an opportunity to experience true friendship, and true love, is a gift in itself. Yes, I've lost Josh, but to have had a friend like Josh and lose him is better than not having had a friend at all," she replied.

It was then. I was moved. I felt my anguish shell crack and give way to chasm of unrelenting memories. I sat there, sobbing. My tears streamed down my cheeks, and I could feel them wash my hands as I pressed onto my face. Drops brushing against my fingers and my palms, and the warmth of the Sun on my back, I sat there crying. I had lost a friend earlier that year in an accident, and I felt the surge of emotions spring up. I found myself lost, again.

When I calmed down, Emily finally spoke. She asked, "Are you okay?"

"I don't know what to do," I cried.

"What's wrong?" asked Emily.

"I don't know what to do," I repeated, "I know it's not my fault she died." I wasn't making much sense.

Before I could continue, she interrupted, "Who died, Luke?"

"My friend, Ellie," I said. Ellie was my friend, and I had known her since I was a kid. She was my best friend. As I told Emily the story of how Ellie died, I couldn't stop sobbing. "It was six months ago. She was just walking home from school, and I know it was a red light and she shouldn't have crossed, but the driver must have not seen her or something. That fucking driver."

Emily listened.

"I know she didn't mean to die. And, she didn't leave me. It just happened. I just don't know what to do. I feel so jaded, angry, and alone. But, then I think I'm being selfish only thinking about my feelings. But, I can't stop. I know she's not the blame. That fucking driver."

More tears came out. It took me a while to calm down, much longer than I had ever imagined. I had never cried much. I felt like a fool who couldn't manage himself. When it was all over, Emily spoke again, "I'm really sorry, Luke." She was deeply empathetic. She understood.

When I've calmed down and came to my senses, I was embarrassed. "This is embarrassing," I regressed.

"No, it's not," she replied.

"I guess I really needed to vent, huh." I shied away.

"It's good," she said, "I think you ought to share. Have you shared how you feel? With friends?"

Unfortunately, I didn't have friends who wanted to talk and my parents had thought I had 'problem moving on' when I had continued to be solemn months after months. "I tried," I replied.

She remained silent. Naturally, I thought she'd console me then. Having understood my pains, I believed she would help. But, she didn't. Instead, she surprised me. "Luke, this might sound strage to you," she said, "but pray your tears."

"Pray?" I asked. That did sound strange.

"Yes, pray," she confirmed.

It might have sounded lesser strange the second time, but I didn't understand. "Pray? As in pray to God?" I asked, "I don't believe in God."

Emily gave a slight smile. Then, she said, "Prayer is just a petition your heart makes, Luke." She continued, "Petition brings pain of its own, because it's a struggle. That is unfortunately so. But when you have declared your pleas, confessions, and pains, you'll find peace. You'll see that prayers help you grow. You'll find strength. And peace is a kind of inner strength."

"What.." I stumbled. My thoughts were in disarray. Nevertheless, I reacted. "But, who do I pray to?" I asked.

"Be honest, and someone will always listen," she affirmed. "Don't hold them in or try to vent. Sometimes, it doesn't make any sense but just be honest, and you'll always have someone who will listen." She paused, then continued, "Fortunately, Luke, I believe in a God who will listen even if you don't believe him, or even if everyone turned back on him and nobody believed him."

I sat there, struck by her words. I was confused, but part of me believed her. I had always tried to push my emotions and pains aside. I had always tried to ignore or rid them. I had never taken time to confront them and be honest to myself. A picture entered my mind. There was a pair of hands, bleeding, as it picked up broken shards of glass. There were piles of them, but the hands would continue to pick them and continue to bleed. I thought how utterly stupid it was to pick up pieces of glass by hand, but I understood. I wished those were my hands. And I sat there, thinking. My heart resonated.

In silence, time passed. I looked up. The sun had moved well past its meridian, and I could see it glaring behind shields of clouds. It must have been around three or four o'clock, I guessed.

Eventually, Emily spoke. "You're quiet, aren't you?" she asked.

"I am," I replied with a slow nod.

"But not shy," she added.

"No," I answered.

"Josh was quiet, too. He had a nickname at school. They called him the Lone Wolf," she said, "I didn't like it, because I didn't think it suited him. Plus, I don't like wolves. But, he took it as a compliment. He said lone wolves tend to be older and wiser."

I don't know why that was funny, but I was a little amused. I let out a chuckle. And, Emily smiled.

We continued to talk for hours. She told me more stories of Josh, and I shared my stories of Ellie as well. We found a commonplace in each others' hearts and rested there. Time flew. And soon, the moon began rising at opposite end. Air chilled and its scent became fresher. The blue skyline darkened into a dark indigo. I saw the stars envelope the atmosphere, and I dreaded the thought of heading back to the deck. Eventually, I did. I said goodbye to Emily, to which she simply said, "See you later." I rowed back with dim light from the light stand by the deck as my only guide. My heart still heavy, I felt uneasy. I felt perplexed and my thoughts continued to wander. But, I sensed hope. Without knowing how or where, my heart had already begun its course. I didn't know where I was, or where I was going, but my heart was in pursuit. Paradoxically, I felt lost but not without an intent.

I pulled the boat into the bank and onto the deck. As I pushed the boat into its rightful place I found that morning, I felt the engraving at the boat's right rowlock again. "Emily", my fingertips reminded me. I wondered if Emily knew that Josh had engraved her name on the boat.

Again. "Emily".

I pictured two hearts engraving each others' names as they communed. And, I wondered if that is actually what we do when we care, love, and understand one another. With each passing moment, we etch deeper. When one of us goes away, we are left with a void. The largest void would hurt the most. Then, I wondered if I should be in joy that it had hurt so much for me. All the while, I thought how ridiculous it was to imagine hearts with arms and legs etching names onto each other. But, I understood the sincerity. And, I wished one of those hearts were mine.

The end