Of Farewells and Revenge

There’s a boy who lives in a blue house down the street, with two trees and a tire swing in the yard. I used to love going to his house and seeing him, and if I squinted I could still see the younger person I used to be, smiling as she hid in the bushes and tried to climb the trees that didn’t have any branches. They were good memories, and I was fond of them, but at the moment I would have done anything to get rid of them.

    I stood at the end of the driveway, trying to pretend that I was anywhere else. My hands were shoved far into my worn fleece jacket; it used to be bright white, but now it didn’t really have much of a color. It was just old, like the house I was standing in front of. It didn’t look trashy, exactly, just untamed. It was the sort of house that made you wonder what sort of people lived there.

    The whitewashed door creaked open, and he stepped onto the porch, walking as far as the old, chipping steps. His arms crossed over his chest, and my knees weakened. 

    “What do you want, Briar?”

    I cleared my throat. “I’m here to say goodbye.”

    The side of his face twitched slightly. “There’s still no chance that I could get you to change your mind, then?”

    “No.”

    His brown hair looked red and gold in the sunlight. It used to be pretty to me, but now it was just ugly. He tightened his arms across his chest, then relaxed them. “I’m not ready to say goodbye yet.”

    I forced myself not to raise my voice. My fingers dug into my pockets.“I wasn’t asking for permission. I’m saying goodbye to you, and you’re saying goodbye to me, too, and I don’t care if you want to or not.”

    He stepped off of the porch and walked towards me. His dirty sneakers bounced off the ground, and I stumbled backwards. My fingers tightened even more. “I’m leaving,” I snapped, watching his eyes go wide. Younger me might have felt sorry for him, might have even liked him, but I couldn’t afford to care anymore.

    His eyebrows came close together, and his posture stiffened. “I told you I was sorry a million times,” he said. I could tell he was trying to sound angry, but his words came off as pleading - begging. I wanted to run away, but I didn’t. How dare he think that saying sorry could fix what he did?

    I tried to turn away, but he snagged my arm. My teeth clenched together, and I wished with a burning passion that I could honestly say I was over him. “Let. Me. Go.”

     "No," he replied. "No, I won't. I let you go before, and it ruined -- it killed me." His voice cracked, slightly, and I pinched my lips. 

    "Jamie-"

    "That's not my name!"

    I spun around, not bothering to try and release my arm from his grip. I locked my gaze into his eyes, ignoring the guilt and anger and pain and tears that I weren't even sure were real anymore. 

    "I don't love you, Jamieson. I love what you could have been, but I will never, ever, love the man you are. You hear me? You mean nothing to me, nothing."

    His eyes flashed. First they looked like fire, then like rain. He let go of my hand and took a step back. Tears were falling down his face now. I still couldn't tell if they were real or not.

    “I love you,” he said.

    “Then you should have thought of that before you framed my sister for something you did!” I shrieked, giving in to the fire in my chest. “You’re a cowardly snake, and I can’t believe I ever even liked you!” His face twisted into something painful, and I enjoyed it. 

    He swallowed, shaking. I couldn’t tell if it was from fear or grief or anger. “You know what happened as well as I do.” His voice was low, and his hand tightened on me. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, and it was her or me. You would have done the same thing.”

    “No, I wouldn’t have! I wouldn’t have stabbed that person in the first place! I wouldn’t have shoved the knife into someone else’s hand! I hate you!”

    His lips pressed together until they became a thin line, and then he squeezed them even tighter. “I had to do it,” he hissed. “It was a bad person who deserved to die. I was protecting you and everyone else.”

    His voice faded from black anger to red pain to white noise. “You lied to me. About everything. You’re a murderer.”

    “No. I am a protector, and I’ve always protected you.”

    “At the expense of others? You’re a scaredy-cat.”

    "Briar, I would die for you."

    I raised my chin, narrowed my eyes, and forced myself to remember every single nasty, evil thing he had ever done. 

    "Then die."

    His face lost its color, and I snatched my arm from his grip, stalking away. I resolved to not stop moving until I was as far away from him as possible. Traitorous tears dripped down my face. There was a slight breeze blowing, but it wasn’t strong enough to make the leaves on the trees dance. I wanted to run away from him and his blue house and my past, but my legs could barely walk. Move, I told them. We need to get out of here. We need to leave.

    “You’ll come back,” he said. I didn’t turn around to face him. “You’ll realize that you need me and you’ll come crawling back. I’ll be here for you when you do, and I’ll forgive you for hating me, too. One day you’ll see.”

    In spite of everything, I smiled. He was still the same small boy I once knew. The one who loved looking at stars and petting the snakes that would crawl across the pavement. The same one who would soon be in jail for arson that he didn’t commit. An eye for an eye, I mused. Revenge was only fun when it was personal. 

   “Bye, Jamie,” I said, and I never saw him again.