Friends Departed

“Still cold?”

            Through the chattering of teeth Sally could just made out the protesting, “Not a bit”, as she reached down to turn the cars radiator to full. Typical Jules! He would rather freeze then admit defeat. Sally shot him a look before turning onto the bypass.

            Wrapped tightly in a navy military coat, the collar turned up to cover his ears, Sally thought her friend looked paler then usual. Maybe he was starting to get sick. That wouldn’t surprise her. Even now, despite the new warmth radiating from the heater, his breath still formed silver as he blew into lather-clad hands.

            “Is that any better?” Sally asked, the words barely breaking a whisper.

            “Very much, thank you.” He replied cheerfully, pushing the grown lengths of copper-blond hair off of his forehead. “I need a hair cut.”

            “Nah, looks good on you.” Laughed Sally, dreading the thought of seeing that gorgeous hair cut scalp short again.

            “Your probably right, as usual.” He smiled. “It might keep me warmer if I let it grow, anyways. Must be a sign I’m getting older.”

            “Nonsense! You’re bound to feel the cold; you’ve been on tour for six months. And I don’t suppose it helps any with that wound! No wonder your feeling it in your bones. I know I would be.”

            “It’s not that bad…I just needed to get out for a while.” He stopped a moment, gathering his thoughts with a laboured breath. “I couldn’t stand it…Mum and I can’t seem to be in the same room right now with out her bursting into tears. It’s terrible…”

            Sally reached out to clasp her friend’s hand and gave it a slight squeeze. “You know she just can’t bear the thought of losing you! None of us can!”

            Jules let out a bark of forced laughter. “Oh, please. It’ll take more then one bullet to keep me away. But yeah, I get what you mean.”

            Silence ensued. The tiny purple ford hastened down the bypass bordered left and right with hundreds of tall oaks, giving frequent grunts of protest to the unusual excursion. Sally watched and marvelled at the many shredded leaves that danced in the wind, drifting over the bonnet in a frenzy of reds and gold’s. Back in collage Jules and she would always make time to sit outside in the dramas abandoned amphitheatre, it’s concrete seating now turfed and covered in moss, it stage patch worked at all times in a bedazzling array of different coloured vegetation. There they would sit, Jules penning out forgotten homework, while she sketched, sharing a half frozen lemon cheesecake just because they could. They would listen to Phantom and recreate the lyrics for their own amusement. And just talk about nothing all day long.

            But those days where gone now. Just like the leaves, the old ones where shed, the new ones begun.

              “Thank you for the flowers by the way.” Said Jules, a pale tint of crimson colouring his pale features. “You shouldn’t have…I have loads…”

            Sally laughed. “So I saw. Enough to open a florist I would imagine. All the same, you’re welcome. I know you like daisies.”

            “Caught me.” Came the throaty chuckle.

            “Hey I know your soft spot tough guy!” She replied, playfully punching him on the arm then raised a finger as he moved to retaliate. “Not so fast, I’m driving remember.” 

            “Yeah, yeah.”

            Trees turned to thatched cottages, which brought the heavier confines of the town. Their soft brown surroundings where forfeit to the harsh greys of industry on the horizon.

            “Be there in a minute.” Sally muttered, speaking more to herself then Jules.

            All of a sudden she was aware of his stare burning into her side. She chanced a glance from the road before quickly turning back. His eyes were narrow and jaw set tight, making him look even paler then Sally thought possible.

            “What?” She snapped, unable to stand the tension. “Do I have something on my face?”

            “Are you happy Sal?”

            “Huh?” Why was he asking? Didn’t she look happy?

            “I mean are you content in life, with where you’re headed? You sure you can cope with everything?”

            “Sure.” She gasped. “Sure. I’m a big girl now. I’ll find another job soon, it’s no big.”

            Turning into the drive, the wheels skidded to a halt on the wet foliage. Throwing off her belt, Sally released herself from the confines of the cold car and stepped out into the chilly November air. Walking around to the bonnet, Sally made a perch for herself atop the damp metal, and wrapped her arms around her chest. Jules joined her, hands clasped on his knees.  

            “I’m glad you’re alright.” He whispered. “All the same I’m here for ya.” For a moment neither party said a thing, content like old times just to sit together and be. They listened to the river flowing not far away, the shuffling of a pair of squirrels racing along the tree bark overhead, and the wind as it gently howled through the many panels of wrought iron fencing. The echo of chimes came from the belfry.

            “ I guess this is my stop.” Joked Jules, standing up he turned to her as she followed suit. “You take care of yourself Sally Fields, don’t be making me worry about you.”

            Sally forced a grin. “Just you take care of yourself Jules.”

            He held open his arms and she stepped into the embrace with a heavy but happy heart, tears forming. She had never liked goodbyes. Not even ‘see you later’s’. 

            “Until, goodnight.” He said, quoting their favourite saying, he stepped back and kissed her on the cheek.

            With one final pat on the shoulder he put his hands in his pockets and strolled off towards the river. Sally watched him go, feeling suddenly warm as he turned back to wave before disappearing through the trees. Following the path of her tears Sally’s gaze fell to the ground.

            The earth was disturbed here; freshly turned in on its self, covered lavishly in an array of bright petals, on its pale stone head a floral wreath of tribute. The wind had begun to pick up now and in one vicious gust leaves and flowers where blown everywhere. It was then that a single piece of a broad sheet became snagged on her shoe.

            Leaning down to free it, Sally retrieved the sheet and smoother it’s battered surface.     

            The picture leaped out more so then the heading:

 

 

He died a hero, Lance Corporal Julius Melville, killed in action in Iraq a week before his return from tour.