Kate Ewald
4/1/03
Eng 10: Novels
Clarissa's End
"Mrs. Dalloway?" No one has called her that since Richard died. The familiarity of the voice is too near, and too old. The hand on her shoulder is heavy, bringing back a stream of memories that she wishes to forget. Clarissa almost expects to turn around and see Richard there, looking just like he was on that street corner so many years ago. "Louis!" She embraces him awkwardly, hitting her grocery bags against the small of his back. Although he has moved back to New York with his newest golden boy over a year ago, she has rarely seen either of them since their house-warming party. She and Sally had begun bickering over what time they were going to leave, and the night left a sour impression on her memory. They had both drank too much and had behaved irrationally. Sally has not spoken of Louis since. "How are things?" Louis says. "Oh.you know, just the same-old, same-old." She forces a laugh. She had never really connected with Louis the way she had or hoped to connect with Richard. There was always some unutterable tension for her lying beneath their conversations, reminders of Richard, flashes back to the day that he died. And there would always be Richard. He was the commonality between them, and once his memories became painful and began to fade, she resented seeing Louis more and more. With each time she sees him, she's reminded of who she couldn't be to Richard, who she couldn't be to Louis, and all the things she should have done. "George and I just decided to move into a bigger apartment since he's becoming such a success. He really is hard to keep up with, but I'm sure it keeps me young in the long run. I mean, that is what we all want, right?" He laughs at his own non-joke, and Clarissa laughs with him. She sees Richard's pale body and blue bathrobe again on the cement, a bed of glass and blood. Louis keeps laughing. "Well, I'll see you soon!" He looks uneasy and Clarissa can tell that he doesn't have the intention of seeing her again for another year. "Yes, it was a pleasure seeing you, Louis!" Her smile fades as they quickly hug, and both go their separate ways. Louis really did care about Richard. She has to admire him for that. His taste in men has not since been the same after he'd had Richard that one summer. Clarissa turns around to catch one last glimpse of Louis, but he has already been lost in the crowd. The dull New York noises mimic the thoughts going through her head. Richard's death seeps back into her mind like poison. He was her meaning. Of course, there are Sally and Julia, wonderful people to fill the time with, but even they too will die like Richard. And she will be left alone. At one point she had thought of dying as well, following Richard out the metaphorical window, finishing the life that she never lived. She always regrets not kissing Richard, and always wonders what would have happened if she had. Julia and Sally would be nothing to her, Richard wouldn't have gotten sick, and she might be with him now, happy. Adjusting the handle of her grocery bags, Clarissa sees the flower shop. She thinks about getting some yellow roses for Sally as an "I love you" gift. They don't really have to say it anymore, but Clarissa knows that Sally likes some attention now and then. However, Sally is expecting her home for dinner, and will probably get angrier about her being late than whether or not she receives flowers. After all, they don't have to say that they love one another anymore. They just know. Clarissa passes the flower shop. She can still see everything happening at once. The degrees of her past all melt together, and they are there in her present as she walks down 53rd Street. She can see Richard's light-filled apartment, the ring around his bathtub; the way everything lacked greatness. She can hear the sound he made when he hit the pavement; watch his body crumple and cripple in slow motion, frame-by-frame. She can smell the beer from the broken glass around him. She feels her hand on Laura Brown's shoulder, watches the worst day of her life again and again. She lives it constantly. And Richard's voice still rings in her mind, "What a beautiful, beautiful day."
Clarissa's End
"Mrs. Dalloway?" No one has called her that since Richard died. The familiarity of the voice is too near, and too old. The hand on her shoulder is heavy, bringing back a stream of memories that she wishes to forget. Clarissa almost expects to turn around and see Richard there, looking just like he was on that street corner so many years ago. "Louis!" She embraces him awkwardly, hitting her grocery bags against the small of his back. Although he has moved back to New York with his newest golden boy over a year ago, she has rarely seen either of them since their house-warming party. She and Sally had begun bickering over what time they were going to leave, and the night left a sour impression on her memory. They had both drank too much and had behaved irrationally. Sally has not spoken of Louis since. "How are things?" Louis says. "Oh.you know, just the same-old, same-old." She forces a laugh. She had never really connected with Louis the way she had or hoped to connect with Richard. There was always some unutterable tension for her lying beneath their conversations, reminders of Richard, flashes back to the day that he died. And there would always be Richard. He was the commonality between them, and once his memories became painful and began to fade, she resented seeing Louis more and more. With each time she sees him, she's reminded of who she couldn't be to Richard, who she couldn't be to Louis, and all the things she should have done. "George and I just decided to move into a bigger apartment since he's becoming such a success. He really is hard to keep up with, but I'm sure it keeps me young in the long run. I mean, that is what we all want, right?" He laughs at his own non-joke, and Clarissa laughs with him. She sees Richard's pale body and blue bathrobe again on the cement, a bed of glass and blood. Louis keeps laughing. "Well, I'll see you soon!" He looks uneasy and Clarissa can tell that he doesn't have the intention of seeing her again for another year. "Yes, it was a pleasure seeing you, Louis!" Her smile fades as they quickly hug, and both go their separate ways. Louis really did care about Richard. She has to admire him for that. His taste in men has not since been the same after he'd had Richard that one summer. Clarissa turns around to catch one last glimpse of Louis, but he has already been lost in the crowd. The dull New York noises mimic the thoughts going through her head. Richard's death seeps back into her mind like poison. He was her meaning. Of course, there are Sally and Julia, wonderful people to fill the time with, but even they too will die like Richard. And she will be left alone. At one point she had thought of dying as well, following Richard out the metaphorical window, finishing the life that she never lived. She always regrets not kissing Richard, and always wonders what would have happened if she had. Julia and Sally would be nothing to her, Richard wouldn't have gotten sick, and she might be with him now, happy. Adjusting the handle of her grocery bags, Clarissa sees the flower shop. She thinks about getting some yellow roses for Sally as an "I love you" gift. They don't really have to say it anymore, but Clarissa knows that Sally likes some attention now and then. However, Sally is expecting her home for dinner, and will probably get angrier about her being late than whether or not she receives flowers. After all, they don't have to say that they love one another anymore. They just know. Clarissa passes the flower shop. She can still see everything happening at once. The degrees of her past all melt together, and they are there in her present as she walks down 53rd Street. She can see Richard's light-filled apartment, the ring around his bathtub; the way everything lacked greatness. She can hear the sound he made when he hit the pavement; watch his body crumple and cripple in slow motion, frame-by-frame. She can smell the beer from the broken glass around him. She feels her hand on Laura Brown's shoulder, watches the worst day of her life again and again. She lives it constantly. And Richard's voice still rings in her mind, "What a beautiful, beautiful day."