Do You Know Eva?

Epilogue: Her Name Was Eva

                                                                        -Epilogue-

          I do not know where I am, nor do I know why I am here. All I know is that my name is Eva, and I am seventy five years old. Or am I seventy four? Who cares really. In a place like this time stands still- and no, it is not because we are having so much fun. It’s pretty much the opposite. Not that I would remember really, my mind is rittled with Alzheimer's, my bones rittled with Arthritis. My name is Eva and I am seventy five, or is it seventy four?

          A nurse waddles into the room and sets a tray down beside me. I do not look up from my journal; rather I just nod and wait for her to sit in the empty chair opposite me. It still hurts me when someone sits in that chair but I cannot blame them for they do not know who once sat there. The nurse brushes herself and sits before me.

          “Revisiting again are we, Eva?” the nurse asks. I do not know her name, nor do I intend on learning it as I will forget by tomorrow morning. I nod politely. God knows that this is probably the hundredth time she has sat with me and asked me that question.

“Where are you today?” she asks, leaning in to see the date, time and location of the memory I am reading.

“Ah, you and Jessica are with Iz at the new house.”

I rack my brain for who Iz, the girl in the journal, really is. Is she a friend, a loved one? Again, I smile.

          The nurse leans back in her chair and sips at her coffee. I start to feel uncomfortable as she watches me read. I finally speak.

“I do not mean to sound rude, but can I help you?”

The nurse smiles. Almost laughs.

“You really don’t know who I am?” she asks, bewildered.

“Really, really,” I reply.

“Well Miss Eva, everyday at this time I take my break and sit with you. Most days you are happy to share your memories with me, be they painful or happy, and some days you have this look in your eyes- this look tells me whether it’s safe or not to sit in Jessica’s chair.”

“And you think it is safe today?” I ask, not really wanting an answer, my expression should explain it all.

“Oh no, I should be running for my life,” she jokes, “but I have a feeling you still want me here. Do you have any questions, you usually do?”

          I actually have many questions but I refrain from spilling them all, saving myself from looking like a complete nutter.

“I do have one,” I say, softly. I pause before I continue. “Who exactly is Iz?”

“Miss Eva, you ask me that question every single day. But I will allow her tell you herself. She will be here shortly. And I, best be getting back to work. I’ll see you later Miss Eva.”

The nurse throws the last of her coffee down her throat and smiles before leaving. As she walks out of the door she passes a blonde woman, holding the hand of a two year old girl. The blonde woman stands before me and smiles, almost cries. She slips off her black coat and pulls up a chair beside me, leaving Jessica’s chair empty. Part of me wishes I could pick up that god damn chair and chuck it out the window to spare myself thinking of the woman I lost every time I look at it.

          The blonde woman lifts the child onto her lap and they both stare at me. I close my journal and rest in my chair. Do I know this woman? Some part of me recognizes her and wants to pull her into a hug- another part wants me to ask her for identification. But deep down I think I know who it is. At the end of they day, there is only three characters in that journal of mine who are still alive and I’m guessing this woman is not Jason Shepard.

          “Isabella? Is that you?” I say, looking into her eyes trying to find any thing I met recognize. She purses her lips and a tear falls silently down her cheek. Her child looks up to her and then back to me.

“Yes momma, it’s me,” she blurts through sobs, grabbing my wrinkled, frail hand. Her touch sends shivers through my body and right away I am crying too.

“When was the last time I saw you?” I ask my daughter.

“Too long momma, too long.”

          Later that night I begin pacing my room. Too much has happened today to just fall asleep after the soaps and a portion of Jello. I cannot think straight. I mean I have a daughter. An actual human being that I am responsible for, be adopted or not, she is mine and I am hers. Did she put me here? I did not ask her this, might make things a bit awkward, but if she did is that the reason we haven’t seen each other in so long?

          Outside my window, a bright, yellow sun begins to set beyond the forest. The sun used to shine, the birds used to tweet, the grass used to grow- before a thick cloud of rain covered the sun, and the birds flew away. As they say- all good things come to an end. The green grass flows lifelessly in the wind and before I know it I am standing on this grass in my bare feet, my white night gown flowing around my ankles.

          I look to the sky, begging for some sign that what I am thinking of doing is the wrong idea. But there is nothing. Maybe, after years of contemplating, it is actually the right thing to do. I take one last look to the now dark sky before the rain begins to fall. The water running down my cheeks is not rain. I return to my small room soaking wet. This is it.

          I slide off my damp gown, pull off my underwear and take the various clips out of my short, almost white hair. Where have the thick, blood red curls gone? Where have my glistening blue eyes travelled to?

I stand in a full length mirror completely naked. I will leave this world as I came into it.

          The bath tub is already three quarters full when I walk into the white tiled room. I twist the knobs slowly, almost an effort. I place a non-reluctant foot into the warm water- the depths of my freedom. Before lying down completely, I look back to the mirror and as myself, did God really waste a life one me? From the bits that I can remember it was a pretty good life.

          I kneel down and the water rises above my waist. Clutching my photo of Scott and I, I stretch out my legs and I am consumed by the water. Some water escapes from the bath and splashes onto the ground. I close my eyes and fall, ever so gracefully, into the abyss.

          For a moment I consider jumping back up and gasp for some air, but am I really that weak? I let go of the photo and it floats to the surface. I look to the ceiling and my image is reflected, but I do not see me as this seventy five, or four, year old woman. I see a sixteen year old Eva looking back at me in the bath. She is smiling, or am I smiling?

          Will there be arms to save me now? Or is it finally my time to let go? Is there still life in me? If not, will they even notice I am gone? Will the nurse that apparently sits with me everyday come looking for me? Will my daughter understand?

          And that was my last thought.

There were arms. Many arms. They were not pulling me away from death. They were pulling me towards it and they were the arms of Jessica, Jones and Scott. They stood in the abandoned house arms outstretched, looking just like they did when they were in their youth. Smiling. Glowing. Thick red curls hang at my shoulder and my eyes glisten as tears fall down my cheek. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to die all those years ago. Maybe there was some plan for little, old Eva after all but that plan has been lived out and now all that remains is a frail old woman floating in her bath tub, arms crossed, a slight smirk on her face.

They will notice.

THE END

A/N:

Thanks for all the love in the last few months, thank you so much! Hope you enjoyed it and yes, this has been the ending that has been in my head since the beginning. It started with suicide and ended with it.

Thanks once more! : ) Edited version with extended scenes and extra chapters coming soon but for now this is the end.

If you are looking for a replacement for Eva, I suggest you turn over to SPIRIT my new novel and Eva’s replacement.

But she can never be replaced! Thanks once more! Lots of Love!