she claimed it was for the view, but that was a lie. the truth was that she was lonely, and the lie made more sense than the truth, because she wasn’t lonely for that person, not that he was there anyway. who knows what she was hoping to achieve? she certainly didn’t know. the one she was lonely for was only a few miles south of her, and she could have called him, but she didn’t, she went north instead, seemingly searching for someone thousands of miles across the sea. she didn’t want him here, anyhow – he was no good for her, that had been decided – but she drove to the estates where the person who used to be so important used to live, speeding aimlessly around the streets like she had forced herself not to in those days, trying to convince herself that the winter sunlight was in fact the light and consequential heat of summer, and if only the trees had leaves she would see him walk around one of the suburb’s corners – not that she wanted that. she may not know what she did want, but she knew what shed did not want, and that was the boy who had left six months ago, when the trees were covered with leaves as bright as his smile had been. she was thinking of another’s smile, but longing for the past – a past in which that shier, quieter, yet just as cherished smile had been unknown and therefore didn’t exist. and if it didn’t exist, it could not make her heart die. so she wandered through the streets and sidewalks and manicured lawns of the past and felt totally unconnected to everything and yet so close with the smallest pebble and weed – especially the weeds, though the dandelions weren’t alive now, in her mind they were as bright and yellow as the pain in her soul.
she never made it to the top of the hill – her excuse was shallow from the start and now non-existent. instead she became lost in both physical and mental reality, having lost all knowledge of both direction and purpose. perhaps if she had stuck to the lie instead of letting her true confusion and uncertainty coming to weak light, she would not have hit that turn too quickly, and perhaps she would have found a way to see any smile again, let alone the two smiles chasing her faster and faster away from home. perhaps if she had climbed the hill slowly and taken time to look over the estates and her life, she would have found some form of pattern or plan that would give her the hope to drive home. perhaps hope was her desire, but it was never her goal.
who could say why she drove off the road that day? two boys lean over her coffin and wonder…
they wonder not only why, but who the other is, and if the other is not to blame. but yet no answers will be known, for she knew not herself, she didn’t know where or what or why she was searching. all anyone knows is what she found –
the end of the questions.
