Why not. It is monday after all.
(Continued from previous NaNo Snip post.)
I paid the taxi driver extra money to take me the long way round to Church Cove. I wanted to drive past Lizard Point. In the car it was about fifteen minutes away from where I needed to be but I was in no hurry to get there.
The sun had completely disappeared and the moon had begun to take her place. I rolled the back window down and stared out across the fields to the distant sea. Watching as the bitter wind danced through the tall grass and made its way to me. I inhaled the familiar scent as it spun around me in frantic caress, welcoming me home. It would probably be the kindness welcome home I would be receiving, so I soaked it in as the car continued rolling by.
So many times I had walked along these cliffs as a child, my eyes searching the horizon. Waiting for… something, anything. Anything or anyone that could sweep me away on an adventure. I wanted adventures. I wanted them as much as I needed oxygen to live. I wanted something more than this. More than Landewednack and the lizard.
Unexpected laughed shot up my throat and poured out of my mouth. I gave the taxi driver an apologetic smile as he looked through his mirror at me, then quickly turned my attention to the familiar landscape.
More than Landewednack. Perhaps I should have reminded myself of that small fact, then everything wouldn’t be such a mess.
I closed my eyes and listened to the distant ocean as it argued with the cliff wall. The Lizard had been my favourite place in the whole world. Just being here made me feel like a child again. My mother and father would take us to the Lizard every second Sunday after church. Jess would sit in-between me and Adrian… The thought of him sliced through my chest. I sighed and pulled my focus ahead as the taxi turned and Lizard Point vanished from view.
Adrian was my foster brother.
He had been left in my mothers and fathers care when his mother, Joyce, died of breast cancer. Joyce and my mother had been friends since they were children. He was only ten at the time. I could remember the first time I had met him. How sad he had looked. His golden blonde hair flopping around his head hiding his blue puffy eyes. I was only eight. My mother naturally didn’t tell me his mother had died, just that he was coming to live with us and that I should be nice to him.
It was impossible not to be nice to Adrian. It had taken him two weeks to come out of his shell just enough so he could start playing games with me. He didn’t talk, just played. Then after a few more weeks he just eventually started talking. We could never get him to shut up after that.
“You have pretty hair.” That was the first thing he had said to me. We had been sitting at Kynance Cove with our feet in the ocean. We had been best friends ever since.
I felt the sting of my tears as they crawled down my frozen cheeks, the wind came through the open window and pushed against me as if it were trying to sweep them away.
I asked the driver to drop me off around the corner. I paid him extra, grabbed the four dress bags off the seat beside me while he got my suitcase from the trunk.
I took a cigarette from my handbag and lit it, while watching the taxi drive away. Wanting so badly to be going with it. I took a long drag from my cigarette and felt my body relax. I could do this. I had to.
I finished my cigarette and stubbed it out on the pavement, cursing myself for not buying some chewing gum from the train station. No doubt my mother would give me ear ache on the dangers of smoking…
I flung the dress bags over my left shoulder and grabbed the handle of my suitcase, pulling it onto the road. The steady rumble of the wheels and the familiar clicking of my stiletoes echoed throughout the silence as if everyone needed to know I had finally returned. My left index finger was close to breaking due to the weight of the dress bags but I refused to walk any quicker. Not that my forced lack of effort mattered because within a second I was stood looking directly at the familiar grey stone house.
I could feel the metal handle of my suitcase digging into my palm as my grip automatically tightened.
It has been six years and it still looked exactly the same. As if it were trapped in time. The grass green gate with its bold brass numbers seem to stare at me. While the familiar warm lighting peaked through the net curtains in the kitchen, beckoning me to go inside.
How much of this place was trapped in the past?
I stood silently on the other side of the deserted road, feeling the wind dancing through my hair bringing the smell of the salt from the sea with it. Both pushing me. Telling me to just go and ring the bell to my family home.
I took one last deep breath hoping to ease the growing knot in my stomach as it slowly tightened. The sudden need to run away had, once again, started to take over…
Stepping Stones by Elizabeth Morgan is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.