Her Dying Memories

As the bullet passed through her chest, Erin saw one thing: the face of the man who loved her. She collapsed in a heap on the concrete floor, her hands and feet numb and cold. The stink of gunpowder filled her nose, and for a moment, it reminded her of her father, the way his Sunday jacket smelled. With what little strength she had, she slipped her hand into her pocket and touched a cold, metal item. She wrapped her fingers around it and held it tight. Her lips trembled with the taste of blood, and as she died, her mind engaged a parade of memories. 

The conversation started well, she thought, given the circumstances. Erin had waited an hour for him to arrive. She’d stood alone in the cold stockroom of her father’s butcher shop, among the hanging carcasses of tomorrow’s lunch and links of sausage strung from the ceiling like Christmas Lights. The door opened, and the gust of wind made her shiver. She perceived now what was invisible to her then; the wooden grip of a revolver stuck inside the inner pocket of his jacket. How different the outcome may have been if she’d understood its meaning. Even as she embraced him, his voice and the smell of pine soot in his hair put her at ease, the familiar scents of the man she’d known as a boy and loved. She’d wanted to stay there forever. But she knew it could never be. Not anymore. 

Erin’s dying mind took her back to the week before. Her face, now pale and white, was shining with elegance in her memory. It was her wedding day. She remembered how the cathedral’s stained glass sent colors dancing across the walls and floor in the afternoon light. Her memories slipped away; the smell of wine, the heat from the unity candles, the cool metal ring on her finger, the taste of her husband Nathan when they kissed. It was the happiest day of her life for anyone looking in, but her heart was heavy. She stood at the altar, her vows echoing in her mind, knowing she’d already broken them.

The memories of her wedding faded, and Erin’s thoughts traveled back to three months prior. The wonderful day her mind conjured up was replaced with a dark, starless night. It had snowed earlier, and the air felt like knives on her face. Her hair was sticky with sweat as the horse-drawn carriage bolted through trees, her hands gripping tight the leather reins. Light from the moon cast shadows around her. In her mind’s eye, each void hid a snarling beast in its black depths, feeding mercilessly on her sins. She had told no one of her purposes that night, and she’d hoped no one would ever know. It seemed naïve to her now, a lost cause to think her secret safe, but at that moment, it was the spark that drove her on. She remembered seeing lights in the distance, the flutter of her heart thinking she’d been caught, and the wash of relief when she saw the cross of the abbey. She left the carriage, holding a bundle of blankets tight to her breast, and walked the rest of the way through the darkness. The hardwood of the door scraped her knuckles as she knocked with impatience. A tiny figure appeared at a window and called out, telling her the abbey was closed for the night and biding her to return tomorrow. Erin sobbed, explaining that she had only tonight to fix her mistake and feared God himself would condemn her in the morning. The figure disappeared, and a moment later, the door opened.

An old woman stood across the threshold, her wrinkled face pale and blue under the moon. She wore the traditional black and white habit of a nun, and the cherry red rosary around her neck fell gracefully across her chest. Erin confessed her transgression in full and handed over the bundle of blankets, a soft whimper emitting from their center. The nun’s hands were as ice as they brushed against Erin’s, but her smile was warm as the summer sun as she looked at the newborn child in her arms. For a moment, Erin envisioned a future with her and her child and the joys they could share, but it was fleeting. She turned back to her carriage and rode away. It was done. 

Cold and alone, the darkness encompassed her. After a moment, a light flickered in the distance, growing into soft candlelight. Erin was lying down on a cool white mattress in her memory, so soft she believed she could sink right through to the floor if she desired. She was in a small, furnished room, with grey stone walls and a fireplace blazing in the corner. To her right were two windows, and beyond them a grey sky that looked full of rain. Directly across the room was a wooden door whose nob now turned with a creek. She watched as a young man entered, his thick black hair and short beard outlining his face. His chest was bare, and his tanned skin looked damp from a shower. He approached her bedside, and she was at once aware of her own nakedness and shame. She felt the urge to run, to stop what was about to happen, but she had no strength to move. Her body was not her own, and it kissed the man. For a moment, he stopped, moving his hand over hers and placing a simple golden ring over her finger. She smiled as tears filled her eyes, and she kissed him.

That summer had been a whirlwind of strain and emotion. Her looming marriage and the death of her father caused her mind to fracture. The stress and emotional weight she carried took their toll. It wasn’t supposed to happen, her affair with Jeremy. She had meant to pay him for his services, thank him, and never see him again. In that moment of weakness, she might have found herself in the arms of anyone who would listen. Even the fat blacksmith would have been a comfort, holding her in his meaty hands. But she’d poured out to the one man who knew her better than anyone, releasing the months of grief and agony. And, dammit, it felt good. It felt amazing to let someone in, to have someone listen. She was glad it had been him. If it was to end her marriage and her life, at least it had been with him.

The morning her father passed, he stood by her side and held her close when her knees buckled. Things might have been different had it been her then-fiance standing alongside her. Instead, it was Jeremy, the man who had been her closest friend. She looked into his eyes as tears filled her own. There was strength in his face, a determination beat into him by the army, but there was also compassion. Despite his attempt to hide it, she’d known of his love for years and was sorry things hadn’t been different. For a moment, in the small bedroom filled with doctors and friends of her father, she suffered a flash of something in her heart, a pull to see her friend in a new light. She saw his strength and his courage, his loyalty, and his unwavering love. For the first time since her engagement, a thought entered her mind. It was a short thought, only a whisper, but no less destructive: was she making a mistake?  

She sat by the fire, its embers flowing up, out of the chimney, and its fragrance of burning pine filling her head. Its heat was enough to warm the room, but it couldn’t compare to the warmth of joy that spilled from her smile. She felt as if she had been smiling for hours and thought maybe she’d never stop. A rough hand grabbed her own and brought it to his lips. Her father sat next to her, examining the diamond perched on her finger. The light from the fireplace danced inside the clear gem as if trapped within its crystal walls. His smile filled his face, and his eyes glistened. His baby girl was getting married, but despite its size, she knew this wasn’t the ring he’d hoped to see on her finger. She’d never let on that she knew, but it was hard to hide, to hide the twinge of pain they both felt.

It was the summer of 1914. She had finished the farmwork early and gone into town, stopping by her father’s butcher shop. In the back, she heard her father’s voice, its deep gravel unmistakable. She peeked through the door and watched her father hand an envelope to a young man. The boy opened it and pulled out an item she had never seen yet knew without question. A simple wedding band of tarnished gold, it had been her mother’s. Her father told the boy a story of love between him and his wife. He said enormous diamonds showed a man’s wealth but could never convey loyalty to a woman as simply as this one. The boy put the ring in his pocket and shook her father’s hand. Before he turned around, she knew it was Jeremy. She waited for weeks for him to ask her, but he never did. On a sultry August afternoon, he knocked on her door.

Erin made sandwiches and lemonade for the both of them, and they sat on the front porch, looking over golden fields, and in the distance, blue mountain peaks rose above the horizon. She smiled at him, his demeanor a nervous wreck. She almost blurted that she knew what he would say if only to spare his torment, but she dared not ruin the moment. After an hour of small talk, he stood up and approached her. She donned a face of bewilderment, playing the unsuspecting girl to perfection. His face was a dirty mess, and his eyes were glued to his shoes. She took his hand in her own and looked at him, telling him it was ok. He smiled weakly and got down on his knee. She watched as he mustered his courage and said what he had come to say. He was leaving. Great Britain had declared war on Germany, and he had signed up with the army. His ship was due to sail the following Sunday. Erin’s face scrunched up in confusion and shock. It was the worst possible news he could have told her. Only moments before, she believed her life was about to change forever, and now she watched as that future got on its dusty brown motorbike and rode off to war. 

It was a cloudless Sunday morning in spring. She had only just moved to this new town with her father the week before, and it was her first time meeting children in Sunday School. She enjoyed herself, making many friends and playing games that were fun. Two boys took her hands and helped her down the church steps, and when she reached the bottom, she gave them both a punch in the arm, so they knew she didn’t need their help. She asked them their names, and they told her; Nathan and Jeremy. She liked them; they were nice enough, and she told them they were now her friends. The boys agreed, and the three walked off together. It was the happiest moment of Erin’s childhood, and it was the last memory her mind played before she died.