Otters

Epilogue

"Shane, I don't blame you. It wasn't your fault. Please don't ever think that this was your fault. You stayed with her. That's all I could ask for."

Frieda sat on the other side of the glass with a phone up to her ear. Little Charlie was sitting on her lap as she spoke to me. She was the spitting image of Jo. Except for her eyes. Charlie's eyes were brown- like her father's.

"She loved you, Shane. You were her knight in shining armor."

My lip quivered at her words. I tried to inhale a deep breath, but it just felt like swallowing broken glass. Tears glossed over my eyes. I stared down at the table ledge in front of me and pinched the bridge of my nose.

"Why is she gone then?" My voice shook. "Why couldn't I save her, Frieda. The one time she needed me most and I let her down." I grit my teeth as tears threatened to spill over.

Frieda's expression softened. "Don't talk like that, Shane. She would've been alone if not for you. I wouldn't be able to live if I knew my baby girl died alone." She pursed her lips, but swallowed the cry.

I glanced down at my hand. The bruise from Jo's grip had reduced to a brown as it healed. I didn't want it to heal though. It reminded me of how dainty her hands were compared to mine.

"Why'd it have to happen to her?" I mumbled, more to myself than to Frieda.

And then Frieda lost it. She dropped the phone and hunched her shoulders over as she cried, holding her head up by her newly freed hand. Everything inside of her shattered like glass. I could see it in her ocean blue eyes. The storm had come in and would last for a long time, creating hurricanes.

I licked my lower lip, a trick I used that seemed to keep me from being emotional. "Goodbye, Frieda," I whispered into the phone and hung it up on the wall beside me.

I couldn't watch her tear herself apart any longer. I stood up and walked over to the guard. "Okay. I'm ready to go back."

He cuffed my wrists. "You don't deserve any bit of this, kid," he said with a sigh.

I clenched my jaw and swallowed. I couldn't answer because I knew I did.

*******************************

"You look like you haven't slept in days," Momma said, her hand clutching onto the phone.

I knew what she was talking about. My eyes were bloodshot and I had bags under my eyes. My actions were lethargic and responses were delayed.

"I'm fine, Momma. It's not so bad." I glanced down at my hand. It was bad. The bruise had healed completely. I bit my lip asI pressed down on my skin, holding the phone between my shoulder and ear.

"Shane," Momma said, her voice tired. "Please don't." She knew about the bruise.

My eyebrows pulled together. "I just miss her so much, Momma." My lips curved downward.

Momma let a tear slip out, which was rare for her. She wiped it away quickly and slid her hand underneath the window between us. "I know, sweetie, I know."

I placed my hand over hers and gripped it tightly. "She was different from everybody else, you know? She wanted to travel the world. She always had a book in her hands. She smelled like coffee and old newspaper. Probably because that's what she did in the morning. Drink coffee and read." Once I started ranting about Jo, I couldn't stop. "I remember the way she shook her leg as a nervous tick, or the how she'd always have to push up those big glasses of hers."

But then I started ranting in my head, things I couldn't say aloud. I remember how she was such a smooth talker that one night. I remember how full and beautiful her lips were and how beautifully her golden hair cascaded down her back the morning afterwards. I remembered the way she's wear my shirts, but they always hit her mid thigh. I remember the way her lips felt, pressed to mine, moving in perfect synchronization.

Nothing will ever feel that way again. Nothing will ever compare to her touch. And nothing will ever be able to replace her.

But everything will remind me of her. Not a day will go by when nothing reminds me of Jo. She was just too memorable.

I traced my fingertips across my palm, outlining the now invisible bruise. "She's gone," I whisper.

Momma grabbed my hand again and squeezed it as hard as she could. "Shane..." She glanced down at her watch. She was already late for her shift at the hospital. "Frieda couldn't keep it. Not like this." She pulled something out of her bag. "I understand if you don't want it. But I thought I might give you the choice." She fit the book, Jo's copy of the Jungle Book, under the glass window.

I could see why Frieda didn't want it. The whole front cover had Jo's blood spattered across it.

I bit my lip to keep myself from screaming. Jo died bloody.

But I couldn't find myself to part with it. "Thanks, Momma," I said softly. I slid my fingers across the spine.

*******************************

As I sat on top of a picnic table in the fenced in courtyard, I found myself finally able to open the book. I flipped to the first page, to Milo's signature.

I wondered if Jo was with him right now, up in heaven. Would they be together again? Is she back to her five year old self, standing on his toes as they waltz around, laughing, forgetting the rest of the world?

Would Jo remember me when I make it up there? Would she greet me at the gates of heaven with a smile. Would she welcome me with open arms.

Or would she forget me completely? Would Jo dismiss me as just another face in the crowd and move on?

Gosh, I hope not.

I turned the next page and read over the poem that Jo was able to recite by memory.

Why does everybody around me get hurt? Why am I cursed? If I get close to anyone, they get hurt. I can't deal with that anymore.

I take out a cigarette and light it, hoping that the day I reunite with Jo comes closer and closer with each cigarette, as the smoke floats up into the clouds.

THE END

So yeah that's the end. Votes? Comments?

I'm starting to write a new story, Calling Mine. Please go read it!!!