Forgiveness: A Separate Peace

Elizabeth Johnson

Phineas was knocked out cold before we could all arrive at the bottom of the stairs, he had hit his head on a stair early on and had tumbled down the rest of the long wide flight of stairs and had landed in the main entry way of Devon school. I nearly tripped myself rushing down the staircase to help him, his face showed none of the humorous expression he wore so often, but was unmoving. His expression could have been described as calm but for the edges pulled tight as thought he had been utterly confused when he had gone down. When I landed on the floor and crouched near Finny I wondered what he would say if had seen himself like this. If he had been awake he would have likely have tried to assist as best he could, he would be as calm as Phil Latham and Dr. Stanpole whom Brinker had fetched. His courage had always been absolute, he would have faced this like any other challenge, and the only difference would be that he would not likely want to lean on me for support.

Like during the trial, I had no control of anything that happened around me. As Phil brought Finny out to the car waiting to take him to the Infirmary, Dr. Stanpole told us that the re-injury to Finny's leg was not bad, but he was far more worried about the damage to his head. As he left the building, he told us to get back to bed.

The next morning I awoke with the gut feeling of something being wrong but I refused to dwell upon it. I had lost Finny, he had been a shroud that covered all of my weaknesses and without him I was naked and alone, I was nothing. So for the second time I wore Finny's clothes in place of mine. The essence of him surrounding me felt like and empty and hollow suit of armor, a shell of his existence guiding me through life. A note had been slipped under the dorms door saying that Phineas would see visitors, but I left it there and headed to class.

During lessons I found myself jumpy and distracted. Had Phineas purposefully suggested that I visit him, did that mean that his intentions were not all well, or was it just my own guilt that mixed up my thoughts? Phineas had no evil thoughts. He would not try to deliberately take revenge. I had to face him, whatever the consequences; the evidence had been laid out before him, I just had to await the verdict.

But I didn't go to him. I walked toward the infirmary and veered off course towards the tree that I had last jumped out of so long ago. Sitting and knowing that I wanted to jump was awful. Knowing that I wanted to jump from the limb so much that in a second I would betray finny again and push him out of a hundred trees if it meant that I would be able to jump from this tree again. But still I could not, I could push those closest to me away and destroy all of my relationships till the end of the world came but it would not restore my courage to do what I once could. Phineas's courage, the courage that he had valiantly shared with me on this very branch so long ago when we cemented our friendship, the courage that he displayed each and every day, was gone. The dimming daylight revealed one last truth to me: I needed Finny much more then he depended on me, I was only hindering him in his own life. His courage was so great that had he known I needed him he would have likely done all he could to help me, even sacrificing himself valiantly so that I could succeed.

With this new realization and the setting sun at my back I ran to the infirmary as fast as I could manage. My legs were trained and ready from practicing for the Olympics. I wanted to go to Finny and explain everything, to tell Finny all of my thoughts, to share with him all of my sorrows and inspirations, to wish him well, and to beg his forgiveness.

But when I arrived, there was only a note. I was in too much of a state of surprise to really register what Dr. Stanpole was telling me as he followed my hurried steps into Finny's room. Finny had died of a lack of oxygen to his brain. Requests to see me had been sent all after noon but his lungs had given out. As the doctor talked on I thought to myself that I didn't care weather or not there had been a nurse on hand at the time or if Dr. Stanpole had been the one at fault. My only thoughts were on the note, left in Finny's own simple misshapen scrawl sometime after he realized that I would not arrive in time:

"Gene, I forgive you."