Daisy Petals.
When she was a little girl she used to spend all her time sitting in the grass which was covered in daisy's. She didn't believe in fairy rings or the man that collected your teeth. The only thing she did believe in was; he loves me, he loves me not.
The sun would shine down on her pure white face, making the already visible freckles stand out even more. She liked it out here, no one to disturb the deathly silence, expect the few birds in the trees or the occasional sound of shouting or something falling to the floor inside the house. That's why she was outside. Whenever Wayne came home, she'd go outside and sit in the grass, that was so long and whispery that she used to think if she laid down she would be invisible. Not that she wasn't already.
She'd sit for hours, pulling the daisy's from the grass. Chanting the same chant until all the petals were gone. She'd pull and pluck, until she got the answer she wanted. 'He loves me'
When she plucked 'He loves me' she got the things she lacked. The physical, social, emotional, relational, and even spiritual love.
Anything less than that? 'He loves me not'
Here she was again, this time though she wasn't that same little girl, she was older and wiser, she was not longer Katie or Katherine or even Freckles. No one had called her that in a long while. No, now she was Kate.
She'd been sat a while now, the wind whipped round her bare shoulders making her pull her grey jacket further up around her neck. She shivered for a second, then regained composer, her legs crossed, arms draped over her knees, head tilted as she gazed out to the horizon. She's often imagined, believed, that he's only over the horizon and if she wanted she could get up, walk out into the ocean and she'd be there again. But its never that simple. For when she dreams this, once she's in reach of going over the horizon it moves further away and she has to run to keep up, but its always too fast. But one day she'll get there and he'll be sat in his aeroplane seat with a book in his hand, because that's how she remembers him.
The sand beneath her was cold, not like the warm, golden sand she was used too. She pulls out one big daisy from her bag, she'd bought it earlier because she wanted to sit here and pick at the daisy's petals, because she knew that he'd be sat under this sky, these stars that glistened so brightly against the black backdrop, looking out at the ocean, maybe reading a book, maybe just watching, maybe even making a sarcastic comment.
She starts to pull at one of the petals but hesitates a moment, slipping back into thoughts that she'd thought she'd long forgotten. Nicknames that rolled off this tongue so naturally. She wonders if she can remember everyone; Baby, Belle of the Ball, Boar Expert, Freckles, Girl, Honey, Kiddo, Magellan, The Mighty Huntress, Pippi Longstocking, Puddin, Sassafras, Sheena, Shortcake, Sugarpop, Sweetheart, Thelma, Timmy, Woman.
She's sure there's more, sure there would have been more, but Freckles was and always will be her favourite.
And now she remembers Jack asking her, a while ago now, how she could possibly come here, just sit and do nothing. Haven't you spent long enough getting bitten by sand fleas? She didn't answer. Just a slight smile that soon turned into a frown as she wished that she wasn't here. She wished she was sat somewhere else in the sand, not further down the beach or in a more cleaner, golden area. She wished she was on that beach.
The beach that brought back pleasant memories, even painful ones sometimes. But no matter what happened, you was content. She was content.
She remembers Jack asking her if she was sinking of the island, she wasn't, it wasn't even possible, but now, now she wishes that, that was all it took, to walk to the waters edge, take off her shoes and place her feet in the nights harsh water. Then sink. Sink back to were she was happy, at peace with herself.
And this is when she realises that Jack is right, he's always been right, they do need to leave here. They have to go back.
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He's sat on his aeroplane seat, glancing from his book a brief second, his eyes catch the water, how the waves move so gracefully, how they lap the shore and crash into the rocks with more force than the first time they rolled in. He looks down the beach and takes a second glance, he could have sworn he saw her slender body stood at the waters edge. Her untamed chocolate curls blowing widely with the calm wind that whips against his bare arms. But he blinks, and he curses himself for doing it, because now she's gone. Just like that. He tries his best to imagine that image again, but its blurry and faint and deep down it hurts him, knowing that he'll never see her walk down the beach to him, see her freckles dance in the sunlight.
The water attracts his attention again, the way it glistens intrigues him. Again he watches the tide go out, the beach getting wider and wider with every thirsty gulp of the ocean.
And he thinks. Jack is the safety and he is the sea. She will continue to swim out, get lost in him, slide under the waves and forget about the tide and eventually find her way back to Jack, crawling up the sandy beach that the waves leave behind. But he is just waiting for the day she can no longer see the shore and she finally drifts far enough under, that the ocean claims her as his own. Forever.
But that day has long past, as she always found her way back to the shore, sometimes longer than others, but she had always she found her way back. Back home. Back to him. For Jack is the hero, the almighty saviour, the guardian. He couldn't ever compete.
This is were she is now, safely in another place, looking out at another ocean, another star, another stretch of vast sky.
For he will never be able to watch her lips curl into a smile at the sound of 'Freckles' or ever again have her company as they are different people in different places. Maybe even different times.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder and now he realises that yes, it does. He does miss what he had, miss what is gone.
He's questioning why he stayed. Why did he stay? Why did he do what he always did; survive? Why not just let it run its course? There's so many 'whys' and 'what ifs'. There's so many people to pass the blame onto.
She's probably moved on, forgot about him. She left him behind, or did he leave her behind? Now there's so many questions.
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We have to go back. We have to go back. That's all she's thinking. But where is 'back?'
The nights air is getting cooler and the wind more harsh, so she starts to unfold her legs, she pushes her body up with her hands and they become covered in tiny fragments of sand. She brushes it away, just like she's brushed everyone else away in her life.
She begins to walk up the stairs, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. She glances back down to the beach one more time, she feels like she's leaving him as she wonders down the grey, concrete pavement back to her apartment. She imagines finding him there. TV on, remote in one hand, beer in another. She's greeted with a lazy grin and a soft drawl. Her lips curl into a smile and she joins him, snuggles into his chest, she feels his lips kiss her forehead, his unshaven beard scratches her soft skin.
A car horn rings in her ears as she shakes her head, snapping herself out of the day-dream. Of course it wasn't real.
She unlocks the door to her apartment but doesn't open it. Hoping, wishing that he's there. Like she imagined.
He's not.
She's greeted with a red flashing light instead. Her answer phone. Its been like that for days. She hasn't been able to answer it. She assumes its Jack, she couldn't bear another slurred conversation about nothingness. So she just left it. She looks down and finds her mail and a newspaper. She picks them up, the title of the paper catches her eyes; The Fallen Hero. Her eyes scan the text. She cant believe what she's reading. She wont.
Jack. Bridge. Suicide.
She rushes over to the answer phone, playing the message she hears his voice, herself miming along to the message. Then beep. It ends.
She plays it again, this news as shocking as the first.
"Kate….Its Jack, listen I know you probably don't want to talk, but please, Kate, listen I found it. I found the island….Call me when you get this. Kate, please"
Then beep. It ends.
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