Goodnight, Charlotte

Charlotte stood on the faded planks of the wood deck that wrapped around three sides of her cabin, her ochre eyes swept over the garden in the backyard, out and over the tall pines that stood near the edge of the lake, watching over the pebble scattered shore where the waves washed over the few feet of sand, the small white lines of the surf reached out, seemed to sweep whatever lay on the shore closer to itself, slowly working to claim the small shells, rocks and bits of seaweed that lay strewn about along the shoreline.

She watched the ceaseless movements of the lake, wondering for a moment at how it seemed to breath, in and out, in and out with the movement of it's surf, seeming to have a life of it's own. Drawing her gaze higher over the peaceful vista before her, she looked up into the evening sky, the clouds afire in shades of oranges, pinks, purples and yellows as the sun slowly sank below the horizon, casting the last of it's light out over the surface of the lake, which wove it into intricuit patterns of cresting lines and curves, the brownian effect of it all driven by the wind that came chasing over the hillside that lay to the east of the lake.

Even as she stood taking in the view as she had done so many times before, her mind kept wandering back to thoughts, burrowing deep into her memory, aching to answer a question she could never stop asking herself. How had she come to be here? She often stood here, enjoying the cool breeze that travelled over the surface of the lake, little gusts of it sweeping round her dress, gently caressing her ankles and bare feet.

She thought then about Thomas, her young husband that had died in the war last fall. Her heart compressed hard, that dull familiar ache that always came when she thought of Thomas burned outward from her core, tingling in her extremeties. She missed him dearly. They had stood together where she stood now, only a year ago, Thomas stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her, holding her hands in his, his embrace was warm and loving. They had only been married two years then, and the war effort was sweeping the country, the president appeared on the networks now and then, speaking of how the country was making such progress, thanking his countrymen for their service, and mourning the loss of so many young men and women who had been lost at the beginning of the war. The losses were slowing, and progress was being made, but the war effort still needed more soldiers, and her Thomas felt called to serve his country.

Charlotte hadn't wanted him to go, but she knew that he felt called in his heart, so she did her best to support his decision. She had prayed every day for him since he had told her of his plans. It had still scared her though, because she could never shake the feeling of worry and doubt that hung over her, that intuition that hung just out of her reach.. It ate away at her slowly, despite her attempts to shrug it off as mere worry. And now as she stood reminiscing, she once again admonished herself for not heading the worry. She wondered if that had been God tapping her shoulder, telling her in his own mysterious way that she should have kept Thomas here with her. There was no draft, just a call for volunteers - And foolish Thomas had to go off and join! She could not fault him for choosing to serve his country - She had fallen in love with him for his strength and dedication to things he believed in. Nothing could sway him when he had made a decision to do something - She wondered if he would have stayed even if she had asked.

She hated how this always got to her, hated her insatiable desire to revisit the painfull past, hated that she always gave into it, and hated how she could never stop. A part of her wanted so badly to just stop thinking altogether, to stop these memories from scratching deep into her heart, and yet another part altogether was defiant to stop thinking about this - She had lost her Thomas, but she would never give up his memory. She shifted her thoughts then, drawing away from her last moments with him, back through the volumes of her memories, back to their wedding day. Charlotte stood in front of a mirror in her room, biting back the joyous nervousness of seeing Thomas dressed in his tuxedo, standing there, waiting for her, ready to commit himself to spending his life with her! They had talked many times of getting married and starting a family while they had dated, and now it was all happening. Charlotte's sister stood to her side, meticulously going over the details of her dress. "Charwot? Wotsh wong?" Mary's eyes peered with concern at Charlotte's in the mirror, several pins stuck out from between her lips. Charlotte smiled back at her sister. "Nothing Mary - I'm just excited, and a little nervous." Mary stood up and turned Charlotte towards her. "You aren't having second thoughts are you? I know it's scary, but everyone can see that you and Tom are made for each other! I've never seen a more perfect couple in my life!" Charlotte smiled at her. "I'm not having second thoughts. I'm just nervous is all, I've dreamed of today since we were little girls. It's hard to believe it's happening, I almost feel like it's a dream, and I'm going to wake up." Mary pinched her. "Ow! Ok, ok Mary - It's real!" Mary giggled as she pinned down a part of the dress. "There. All finished. Now let's get you out there before he gets cold feet!"

A tear rolled down Charlotte's cheek as she watched the last sliver of the sun sink past the horizon. Even happy memories like this one made her miss him, for all she had left of him were memories - He wasn't alive and with her to make any more. She wiped he tear away with her hand, taking a deep breath of the evening air, and turned to go in the cabin. A little smile crept across her lips as she reminded herself that Thomas was up there watching, and he would want her to be happy. So long as she had these memories, no matter how they might weigh on her heart, she would still have him there with her whenever she needed him.

Charlotte slipped the dress off her shoulders, and stepped out of it as it fell to the floor. She picked it up and draped it over the chair by her desk, and went to her dresser to pull out her night clothes. She selected a comfortable silk pajama set, put it on, dimmed the light, and slipped into bed. A feeling of warmth swept over her as she lay in the near darkness. She smelled Thomas on the bedsheets and pillows, almost felt his arm wrapped protectively around her as she smiled softly and closed her eyes to sleep.

Reviews

[C. Johnson]

The ending is superb, a widow who has to sink back in to normal life, and while everything seems drastically abandoned, everything is still closely held. She lays in bed, a place of devout romanticism within a relationship, and there she can rebuild what she had with Thomas despite his absence. The title is aptly placed for this one, no doubt, as it is almost a whimsical passion of "Goodnight Charlotte," the last words a lover would whisper before bed. The setting was fantastic, in the middle of nowhere, enhancing that abandonment, and the sunset parallel to not only the life of her husband, but the life of what is expected of romance after death. However, by breaking the mold with what's expected and what actually happens, you've created something far less mainstream, but so much more powerful. Kudos.

Isaiah Devereaux