The Last Step

The water rushed beneath the dock as rain fell steadily from the sky. She didn't know why she wouldn’t, couldn’t, go with him. He would have saved her. Frank would have taken her and folded her into him with his arms and protected her from the world. Never again would she have to remember the field, her father, her mother’s death, none of it.

She stared at her hands clamped on the cold wet iron bar. She felt the water rising, reaching for her, wanting to snatch her and drag her down into the depths.

“Evvy! Jump, you can make it!” She heard Frank’s pleas, but it was too late. Forlorn she gazed through him, watching her escape disappear into the rising mist.

She glanced back at her hands and contemplated the paths to take. Her father would never let her back into his home when he hears of her near disobedience. She could imagine the look on his face and the anger in his voice, the clenching of his old hands, itching to strike her down for the embarrassment she had caused the family No, too late for that.

The water was still rising, pounding against the supports, overpowering the beating of her anxious heart. There was always that way out. But did she have the strength? The chance to end it all, any other way out would be worse than this. This was a chance to be reunited with her mother and brother. This would be a chance to have nothingness, no pain, no fear, no responsibility, only space and emptiness. The choice was becoming clearer than any other in her muddled fog filled life. She knew what she had to do and the water, lovingly, was reaching for her like a mother reaches for her babe. It was waiting for her to step off the dock, just one little step away from eternal peace. She closed her eyes in preparation to take her last step.

“Hello young girl. You look soaked to the bone. Come stand with me under my umbrella to keep dry. What are you doing out here in the wet all by yourself? Speak up, I can’t hear you.”

She gazed with despair at the ocean and unclenched her hands from the iron rail. Her voice failed her when she gazed at the man addressing her. It was the old priest from the faded picture in the house. True, he was older now than when the photo was taken but the hunched form and the gnarled hands were the same. His hair was white and had receded years before, leaving behind a few slim strands. His face was covered in a scraggly un-kept beard, masking the wrinkled spotted skin underneath. The eyes of the old man worried her the most. They were an attractive blue color, like the bright sapphires she had seen at the theatre with Frank. As with the sapphires, his eyes were cold and empty, soulless.

“Young lady, I am waiting for your name.” His voice made her flinch like sandpaper scratching on glass.

“Sir, my name is Eveline Hill. May I ask your name in return?” She replied with a small curtsy.

“Father Flynn from the Church of St. Boethian.” he said with a haughty air. “Come, let me drive you to the church where you can put on dry clothes and talk to the Reverend Mother.”

She glanced back at the ocean water with longing and with a tug on her arm, the ancient priest steered her toward the car.

The entire ride was unmemorable. The old priest clawed at his rosary, praying aloud for all the fools of the world, the unfaithful, the greedy, the vain, the boy lovers, the lustful, the ignorant, the violent, the lazy, the orphans, the unbelieving, and the prideful. The irony of his prayers caused her to smile inwardly. Finally, they arrived at the church to be greeted by a hag in nun’s dress.

“Young lady, my name is Mother Brigid. I will show you the way to dry clothes.” The nun strode off into the dark church. Reluctantly, Eveline followed. She knew her chance to embrace the water had passed and would never return. The future hung about her like a dark cloud waiting to burst. As she brooded, she watched the figure ahead of her, taking note of her appearance. The old lady had an abnormally large drooping nose out of which course hair sprouted. Her skin was wrinkled and dry like and elephant’s. Her lips were non-existent and the feeling in her eyes was the same. They were the color of the ocean before a storm, dark and menacing, however, there was no anger in them, neither was there compassion or any other humanly emotion, only nothingness.

At the end of a dark hallway that was connected to many other winding hallways, they reached a room. Within it were the same drab features that possessed the rest of the building.

“Here are some dry clothes for you,” Mother Brigid said with a forced smile. “You are welcome to stay here for as long as you like.” Eveline noticed the nun’s false cheery disposition did not become her. “Let me show you about the room. This room has quite a lot of history; it belonged to the pastor before our last. Father Riley, God rest his soul, was a kind man, though many people did not believe so. He came here the same year I did.”

As the old lady rattled on about the old priest, Eveline found it difficult to hold back her distaste of the room. Everything was gray from the walls, to the floor, even the small candles gave off a dingy glow. Hanging beside the armoire was a tapestry of the Family that appeared to have been spun and stitched from mold. The blanket on the bed was threadbare and had holes all through it. As they walked through the room, the layer of dust that had formerly been laying dormant in the thick shag rug rose up and tried to choke those who had entered it’s domain.

“And over there, above the bed, is the wooden sculpture of the Family that belonged to Father Riley, God rest his soul. Over by the door is his umbrella stand, he never left the convent without it” She had a tear in her eye as she spoke fondly of the late priest. “Well, enough of that get your dry clothes on, and then we will discuss your future plans.”

Eveline dismally gazed about the room. She began to change and contemplated her decision. She knew that returning to her home was not an option and that the opportunity to drown herself was out of reach. She continued to dress that decided that the only possible way to muddle along through her life would be to join the convent, or at least live there till other options arose.

She was about to go search for the nun when the faint smell of smoke entered her nose. Heart pounding, she fled from the room. As she ran through the halls, paintings fell behind her and their frames shattered. She ran and ran, but could not find the way out. The smoke was getting thicker with every turn in the maze. Eyes watering, she spied a light at the end of a long windowless hallway. She escaped the burning building just as the antique stained glass windows burst from the heat. Gasping for breath, she watched as the old church was engulfed in flames hotter than Hades. Watching the burning building, she knew she was alone to wander the world for the rest of her life.

Opening her eyes she gazed into the dark depths of the bottomless below and took a step. Though her eyes were open, she would never see anything again other than the blessed darkness. At last, Eveline had peace.