Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

Only One Thing Left To Do

Custom User Avatar
More by this author
The only thing I had left to do was jump off the dock. The sun was setting, and there wasn't much left to do. Slowly, as if I were unveiling a curtain to some unknown paradise, I stepped one foot in front of the other. The wood felt grainy with the leftover sand that, sadly against their will, fell from the shoes of many a beach goer. There was really nothing left to do. The last three days had been surprisingly calm, but this was not the good kind of calm, this was the, its - the - eye - of - the - storm - so - you - better - hide - under - a - table - calm. So I left. After the anniversary of Johanna's disappearance, everyone was silent. They went about their work of typing the Daily Review, and sticking their noses in some book about how to repair vacuums. I saw no point here anymore. Sam was taking me to the island, and I would find new work there. Martha could manage the business fine on her own and her husband, Jeff, would laze around. She could fill her empty nest with feeding and babying him. "Rena. Come away from there, now. You are not leaving this place. You have NO right. do you hear me? How dare you just leave this family? No. You are not going to leave me alone." Kyra uttered this quietly, she did always hate the yelling. Her utterances of NO were the only ones I heard. "I know. I know. But you can't stop me, you really can't. It is time for me to go. You and Max will be just fine, you can help out Martha and..." I couldn't think of anything else. She was right. I didn't have any right to leave her. "Why do you always call her Martha, Ren? She took care of you your whole life, and you still feel it necessary to call her MARTHA? God d*** it. NO!" Her voice grew with the grey passion of hate she threw at me down the dock. It was always has always been to much here. Too many lies, too many forgotten birthdays, too much yelling. It was time for it to be over. Mr. Stanton had taught me I had more potential then this. I could go to the university off the island, and get a career. Help people who were in families like mine had been. It was really time to go. "Kyra, leave. Please. You are just making this harder for both of us. I will send you some money, and I'll write you every week, okay? Just let me go." My eyes were clouding as I remembered all of the times she had held my hand, how I had held her when she was born, so scared I would drop her. She had been the fearless one. At least with Johanna at her side. When her twin sister had disappeared, she was lost. Never once ran down their hill, or swam in the dock. She always avoided that one park, never again wanting to be reminded of the pain of losing. One day I had come home from work and found her sobbing on our bed, carnations in her hair, with Jo's scarf in her hands. The was nothing more for her to do but grieve. I don't know what it is, but something about the way she was looking at me made me want to grab her and take her with me. A wisp of hair fell in to my own eyes and coal ringlets tickling my nose. "Fine. Just go, okay? I will follow you when I can. It's too early now though. I have to help Emilia raise her son. Just go!" She was walking away, but this time rather than gliding on her cloud of grace, she stamped down the dock with the candor of her sister. I couldn't stop myself. I raced after her, spun her around, and held her in my arms. She began to sob. Her shoulders heaved and silent cries burst from her closed lips. "Shhhh...everything is working out for us Kyra. Don't you see? I'm going to look for Jo. I am going to find her." She looked up at me, the hope coming through, even as she tried to beat it down. "I am going to find her Ky. We are going to get through this." She squeezed my hands and kissed my cheek. "Find her." She whispered in my ear. We both turned out separate ways. My boat had come. There was only one thing left to do. Find Jo.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback