KALOPSIA | DALLAS WINSTON

xliii. MARY JANE'S LAST DANCE

✧∭✧∭✧𝖲𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 - 𝖬𝖺𝗋𝗒 𝖩𝖺𝗇𝖾'𝗌 𝖫𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝖣𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖻𝗒 𝖳𝗈𝗆 𝖯𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽
T𝗁𝖾 𝖧𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗋𝗌 ✧∭✧∭✧

SANTA BARBARA, CALIFORNIA. 1980.

SOFT CONVERSATION FLOATED THROUGH THE GENTLE ATMOSPHERE OF THE ART GALLERY. Bob Hughes walked around, gazing at each work carefully. He swept one of the falling hairs out of his face, tilting his head to get a better look at a sculpture. There were whispers between a woman and someone else in the gallery.

Bob looked over to see who was speaking and his eyes widened. He pinched himself just to be sure. A beautiful woman with her hair pulled back. Lovely blonde locks curled onto her shoulders. She locked eyes with him and had a reaction similar to his.

Bob looked away, starting to drift to another area of the gallery. He looked over more than he'd like to admit just to see if she followed. His palms got sweaty as she walked past, a slip of paper dropping from her fingers. Bob picked it up, hastily speeding up to the blonde.

"Ma'am, I think-" He began as she turned around. His breath was swept from his lungs. Bob licked his lips, unsure of how to proceed.

"Mary Jane," She gently smiled, offering her hand for him to shake. A smile that caught him off guard.

And there it was, the slightly crooked toothed smile he knew so well once upon a time.

"Mary Jane Kennedy."

"Bob Hughes," Bob said, clearing his throat as he shook her hand. Emotion built in his chest. He couldn't begin to describe what he felt. He didn't know the right way to feel.

"This um... you dropped this, belongs to you."

She bit her lip and folded her arms, "No it doesn't."

Mary Jane laughed and turned around, leaving once more.

Bob opened the paper and sat on the bench. Inside was a scribble, naming a beach and street, even a time. To top it off, there was a small drawing too. Bob smiled to himself, walking out of the museum.

He walked around, hoping the Santa Barbara air would help ease his mind. Bob knew it was against what he agreed to in the Witness Protection Program. He sat on a bench near the beach, watching the waves crash onto the shore.

All the couples and families in so much love. For years, hearing those sounds of love made him bitter. Everything he had was taken away, he was damned to a life of isolation, of no true connection. He took a deep breath, knowing good and well he shouldn't do as the paper suggested.

Surely one last dance with Mary Jane couldn't hurt. The sound of the ocean and the crying of seagulls were inventing all the ways he could escape a mess bound for them. Meeting her wouldn't do anyone any good. All the progress made would be null and void. It could send him back to square one in recovery. He did so well, only a few hiccups in the first year.

Yet he stood, Bob took off his shoes and he walked into the sand. The sunset sky was warm and clear, cotton candy clouds beginning to say goodbye to the sun. He sat in the soft, white sand, admiring the pink, blue, and orange hues.

Bob looked to his left, and there she was, Mary Jane watching the birds. As if on cue, she turned around, beaming so radiantly when they locked eyes.

His chest tightened. He knew this was wrong. His instincts begged him to run, but his legs simply couldn't find the strength to flee. It was all the confirmation he needed. It was her.