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Guardian
of the Gate
Epilogue
by
Jb
A warm, sunny day. Blue sky, faint breeze, a fluffy ribbon
of white cloud hovering over the mountains.
A nice neighbourhood; rows of well kept two-storey homes, manicured lawns,
and gardens and picket fences with little swinging gates guarding well-swept
walkways leading to welcoming porches. A quiet neighbourhood.
A very pretty day in a very nice town.
Achingly calm. So ordinary as to be completely unreal. So peaceful as
to be utterly unbearable.
A sense of the surreal so powerful it threatened to drive him to his knees,
very nearly forced Daniel away from the gate and back into the vehicle.
How was it possible to step from pain and death into this scene and believe
in the reality of both? To continue to go back and forth between chaos
and serenity and remain sane? The incongruity was overwhelming.
But they were both real, and he'd have to cope, to function... to overcome
the compelling urge to go back and hide within the insulating cocoon of
the car where Jack sat supportively waiting, watching. In this seemingly
impossible world of flowers and single family homes - of quiet neighbourhoods
and bustling cities, of schools and bowling alleys and businesses, of
teeming humanity going about their everyday lives - was someone he wanted
to see. Needed to see. Someone he would see, finally, in just a very few
minutes... he'd unlatch the little gate and walk the short distance to
the steps, mount them, knock on the door, and she'd be there.
Seeing her was one thing; how to connect with her was another. Only too
well aware from her tone of voice on the telephone she still preferred
no contact whatsoever, he'd resigned himself to painfully putting one
foot in front of the other and doing this, if not for her, then at least
for himself. He appreciated her point of view, was entirely empathetic
with her antipathy, which only made this all that much harder. Because
he knew he couldn't tell her what she wanted - no, needed - to know.
He couldn't tell her about what filled his dreams and haunted his waking
hours... the danger, panic and pain, distressing visions of darting violets
and reds intershot with blazing, snapping arcs of blue... about the blinding
flash which instantaneously snuffed out any evidence of the existence
and passing of a courageous young man, leaving only absolute silence and
a discolouration on the floor in its wake.
Only the truth would satisfy her plaintive need for finality. He couldn't
tell her the truth. But he could do this. He could at least do this.
He maneuvered the precious bundle to between his immobilized arm and his
chest, trying to stifle any inadvertent audible complaint when his shoulder
twanged violently and intensified pain flared at the centre of his chest
as he awkwardly tucked the bulky package between the sling and his shirt.
He clutched at its edge with his hand as reached with his free arm to
open the gate. But a noise interceded, freezing him to the spot, and he
stayed there, unmoving, as she slipped out and down the porch steps to
stand in the sanctity of her yard and stare coldly at him.
"Whatever you've brought, I don't want it."
He knew what she did want, but it simply didn't exist anymore. Mutely,
he retrieved the folded flag from where he'd safely tucked it just a moment
before, and carefully balancing it flat on his palm held it out to her.
There was a pause... and then she came. Came to meet him halfway, hostility
dissolving into open grief as her overwhelming need for some tangible
commemoration of her son drove her forward, sent her hands reaching out...
A trembling hand, held out in pain and fear, a desperate attempt to connect.
Daniel thought his chest would burst with regret. His hand never had been
taken, his respect and apologies not understood nor acknowledged. Before
her shaking hands could drop away, he leaned forward over the gate and
thrust the flag into them. She held it out from her body for a moment,
then convulsively jerked her arms back, and just as he had done, clutched
it to her chest. Even so, her expression accused him - is this all there
is?
She looked directly at him, eyes full and threatening to spill over. Defiantly,
she indicated the sling he wore with a jerk of her head. "Were you with
him?"
Barely able to choke back the pain of his failure, he simply nodded.
"I need... he... he was..." She couldn't continue for a moment, the grief
overcoming all else. As tears flowed down her cheeks and raw sobs stole
her breath, Daniel rested his hand on the gate latch, ready to go through
to her if she gave an indication he could be of help. But in the end,
he was still standing there silently on his side of the gate when she
was finally able to continue. "I needed to say goodbye. He... he was only...
only twenty-one. A baby."
"I know."
He really didn't know what else to say. He didn't have the self control
to safely get out much more than that, anyway. In the face of her need,
in the face of the lie which stood between them, he felt irretrievably
and forever locked out of her world. It was all he could say, the best
he could do.
"I know."
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characters, situations, story line, dialogue and narrative © February
15th, 2001, the author
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