Figure
since I'm so far gone, oceans away, There goes the sun, oceans
away Honestly I thought that we could make it all the way,
There goes the sun, oceans
away Here's to the man of your dreams. I take it all
in a box and make my way down to the shore,
I can lay my saber down
today.
I miss the words I love
The words, you did not say.
I
miss the kiss you never gave away.
And days die young when you're gone and you're gone
There
goes the sun, oceans away
And leaves the day for someone
else
Barefoot on beaches dancing against the gray.
But stone by
stone the castle crumbled to the ground,
I stood and stared as
you started to fall into the waves.
And days die young when you're gone and you're gone
There
goes the sun, oceans away
And leaves the day for someone
else
Throw it in and begin
to leave it to the waves.
"Oceans", The Fray
--
November, 1895
It hurts my lungs to breathe in the cool autumn hair, but I don't hurry back towards Spence. I linger in the clearing, imagining that Pippa were here and that I wasn't just offering her small offerings in the hollow of a tree.
A wind tosses my hair about and whips dried up leaves through the air. They scratch past me, leaving behind nothing but a familiar, earthy scent. I half expected the wind to smell of flowers and sun—of Pippa—and I'm disappointed to find that it does not.
"I miss you," I call to the trees and the wide-open, gray sky. I'm startled by the strength of my own voice, by the sheer tone of it. A crow is, too, and caws, disgruntled, as it vacates its perch on a nearby tree. Softer now, I add, "I miss you everyday. I'll miss you forever."
Nothing answers me this time. No wind stirs the trees, no creatures approach. This certainly will not do.
"I'll see you again," I say, more as a promise to myself than to Pippa. And with that, I make my way through the trees and back towards Spence, where we spent so many happy times together.
I somehow don't think that times could become happier still.
--
May, 1896
The memory plays back again and again in my mind for weeks. The only thought that comforts me is that perhaps I am not a degenerate and perhaps there are others like me. It's evident that Pippa wasn't the only one who loved me for me. Gemma accepts me, as does Ann, and I'm glad enough to have friends.
I decide to skip the last of my classes, and instead make my way down to the ravine. Although the memory of our evening there, bloody and naked, is a disturbing one, I want to relive it. Or pay for it, rather. I climb into the ravine until I reach the bottom, and then I let out a scream.
The scream is my atonement. I hope that Pippa can hear me, even if she is truly gone. She's not waiting for me in the realms anymore, it would seem. She's gone. Gone to wherever spirits go when they've finally crossed, or, in her case, been destroyed.
The thought sends me into tears. I climb out of the ravine, sobbing, and by the time I reach the edge of it my cheeks are thoroughly soaked and my collar has become wet as well. My boots are dirty and my skirt is even worse. I don't know how I managed the climb in a corset, and now my sides ache. Perhaps this is my atonement.
But no, this still isn't right. Why would Pippa want to be remembered as a bloodthirsty, misled girl? I know that I'm remembering the time of her earthly death, and it's all somehow inappropriate.
I meander back towards Spence, making sure to stop at the boathouse first. There's something about the pond that makes me think of Pippa. Perhaps it's the time that she fell in and Gemma dramatically came to her unnecessary rescue. The thought sends me into a fit of giggles, and before I know it I'm sobbing again, leaning against the boathouse for support.
The boathouse. Wasn't I trying to convince myself something here just months ago? I can not remember the feel of Ithal's lips against mine now. The feel and flavor of Pippa's, although tasted much less often, are more relevant to me. I bring my fingers to my own lips and rub them gently. This is what it feels like to be lonely.
It dawns on me as I leave the pond that I've always known what a proper goodbye to Pippa would be like. I've been saying goodbye since the first time I lost her, and now that I have lost her for good, I'm well-practiced at the art of farewells.
They're simple, really. The sharpness of the pain only lasts so long, and then it becomes as dull as a dinner party conversation.
--
I'm alone when I sneak out of Spence at midnight in nothing but my nightgown. I enjoy the feel of the dew licking at my bare feet. If Pippa were here, she'd enjoy this night too—two friends, barefoot and carefree under a full moon.
I reach the tree first and pull the rock aside. Pippa's offerings are still there. I pull them off of the makeshift alter and tuck them into the scarf that I've brought along—one that I lent to Pippa quite often. It's purple and matches her eyes, and she always begged me to let her borrow it. There are a few other items wrapped up in the scarf already—a photograph of the two of us that I had a few copies of, a hairpin of hers that I found in November of last year, a note we passed in French class. I miss my knight. I know you do. The items mean a lot to me, but I know they're not true representations of Pippa. My memories of her portray her best—and not of her time in the realms. The Pippa that I saw there before the castle collapsed—the one with the berry-blue lips and the foggy eyes—is not the Pippa that I grew up with and fell in love with. She's a ghost of her, and these items are as well.
I finish wrapping the scarf up and head back towards the pond. It's not deep enough, I feel. If I throw these items in it, someone will find them within days, and I don't want them to ever be unearthed. They're a part of me that I need to say goodbye to—silly memories that are pulling me down and causing me grief.
I shake my head and leave the pond behind. Instead of saying my goodbyes here, I make my way toward the cave. I let my feet guide me there, although it takes some time. The sun is already rising, but I do not fear punishment from Mrs. Nightwing. The cave is calling me towards it, pulling me like strong tides in the ocean. I reach it in what feels like seconds, although my feet are sore by now and I know that it's taken me at least half an hour.
I know the cave well enough to find the spot that I want just by feeling in the dark. There's a hole, the length of my arm, in the wall, and that's where I deposit my memories. Someone will find them one day, perhaps. And perhaps doing so will create an adventure, just like the finding of Mary Dowd's diary did so for Gemma, Ann, Pippa, and me.
I hold the stone in my hands now, ready to replace it. There's only one thing left to say now, and goodbye doesn't seem to fit.
"Forever," I whisper, and the stone slides into place.