Twenty-Four Years Later...

It had been twenty-four years since she’d last seen it, but the place looked exactly the same. The windy day ruffled the grasses alongside the memorial. Autumn had indeed brushed its colours on the quiet churchyard; brown leaves were scattered everywhere. The sun gleamed down on the bushes, and her. Like it was greeting Skye Benson, like it knew what an important day it was for her. Skye Benson moved the dry leaves that had fallen in front of the gravestone, carefully. She caressed the stone gently and lowered down on the space in front of the grave.

There was a soft creaking noise which made Skye look around. A wheelchair zoomed in view.

“Mum… Dad…” she whispered and stood up. Both of them were looking at her. “Dad’s looking awesome in his black suit,” she thought. “And Mum is as beautiful as ever.” She smiled seeing her father’s neatly parted hair and her mother’s old cherry-red lipstick smattered on the lips. That lipstick would always keep a mark on Skye’s and Dawn’s face whenever their mother kissed them. That flash of childhood memory made her happy. Skye rushed to them and held the left-hand grip of her mother’s wheelchair. She and her father, together pushed it forward towards the grave. All three of them stared at the grave, when Skye heard a shrill voice. It wasn’t quite loud, but it echoed off in the stillness of the atmosphere.

It was Dawn, my little sister, Skye thought, coming with her husband and her little fairy. The cute little angel looked around, smiling, holding Dawn’s finger. Skye stared at her closely for a few seconds. She was trying to figure out who she resembled the most. Dawn? Mum? Or did she resemble Skye?

Dawn said, “It is your Aunt Skye.”

Skye went forward and tried to touch the dimple of her little niece. “Whoever she resembles,” Skye thought. “She looks angelic.”

Dawn went to her mother and hugged her. Tears like smooth pearls rolled down Dawn’s and Mrs Benson’s cheeks. Skye sighed. This was the reason she never like to come here on this day. Everyone wept and sobbed… and Skye hated all these. She didn’t want anyone to cry.  

The family gathered around the grave and maintained a silence for two minutes. The ritual was now over. It was time to bid goodbye. Mr Benson started pushing forward the wheelchair again, towards the car this time, and Skye again held the handle. Dawn and her family started walking towards their car.

But Skye would not leave as yet. She would stay here for some more time, alone. She would wait for another visitor now, with whom she had a score to settle. True, this was rather an odd place for meeting someone. Skye could easily pay a visit to Emily Cannon’s house. But why? Skye would want to meet Emily here. She would like to see if Emily Cannon keeps her word.

Skye sat down on a bench and looked down. It was a melancholic morning. Did Skye in her schooldays ever think that one day she would wait for Emily at a graveyard? Emily was a very good friend of hers. But Emily had a problem, which Skye was well aware of. Despite their friendship, Emily never stopped competing with Skye. It was still vivid in Skye’s memory when she wrote a short story for the school magazine. She had kept it inside her desk and had gone for break only to find it missing on return. Skye was dumfounded and despite a frantic search it was nowhere to be seen. The next day, Emily had come up with the same story as Skye in her own handwriting. Skye was furious and possibly for the first time in her life she was angry with Emily—

“It was my idea. And you stole it! How dare you?”

“Why would I steal your idea? You think you can only write well, huh? What do you think of yourself? Stop dreaming about getting a Nobel Prize for your stories.

“No one knows what’s going to happen after twenty-four years. I don’t know if I am going to get Nobel Prize or not, but I surely know this much, that you will not get far by stealing one’s ideas.”

“Ok, we’ll see then. I’ll also see how far you go after twenty-four years. Now give me a break…stop disturbing me!” And then she pushed her… ouch, the back of her head still pained. That scary moment when she rolled down the stairs still haunted Skye. And then there was darkness.

Suddenly, she heard a crunch of gravel, compelling her to look up. A woman in black gown came in view, looking here and there. She had short curly brown hair, and wore glasses. Skye grinned. “She remembered it,” she thought. The woman came towards Skye and knelt down, taking out a book and a bouquet of white roses from a small bag. White rose was her favourite, always.

“Do you remember that today we were supposed to meet? I do.” She glanced at the book. “See what I brought for you. It’s a collection of short stories, Skye,” Emily said. “It’s written by me. But the first story is yours… The story you wrote for the school magazine.” She took a pause and uttered slowly: “Please forgive me Skye. It was an accident. You were my best friend.”

She bowed her head, placed the flowers in front of the grave. And then hesitatingly kept the book on the grave. Skye too knelt down, beside Emily, and looked at the book. Under the title, imprinted in golden letters was —

By Emily Cannon

And

Skye Benson

“I hope you have forgiven me for the accident. I never wanted to harm you.”

Yes, Skye forgave her. She was happy that Emily kept her word. Skye had been burdened for a long twenty-four years. And today she was relieved and free, from her misgiving thoughts, and that was all that mattered.  

-- Aarshia Ray