He was parched. The road has been harsh, miles stretched out in front of him with no horizon in sight. There hadn’t been a single rest stop on the journey, only tired looking plants and the occasional plastic bag for company. He hadn’t thought about bringing any food and drink with him, save for a hastily-made sandwich and a bottle of water. She would have berated him for that.
The fisherman’s bucket hat offered him little protection from the blazing sun. The tint strip in the window of the Ford Cortina had worn away over the years, meaning it wasn’t much good either. He had no choice but to squint against the rays, shielding his eyes with his hand occasionally. The confidence of his youth behind the wheel had been left behind, along with his hip – the prosthetic replacement still gave him trouble at night. Couple that with the soda can sized bifocals he had to wear to see even the biggest of writing and there’s no denying that he would give anything to turn back time ten years, back to her, back to when she was well.
They said it would be bad getting old, but not this bad.
***
The doctors had said all they could do now was to make her comfortable. Comfortable. The sentiment felt like a rake down his back. It had been six months and it seemed like they had done nothing but the bare minimum for her and now all they wanted to do was fluff her pillows? Turn the subtitles on for her favourite shows? His fists clenched and–
“Raymond.”
Her voice brought him back around. Helen always knew when he had that faraway look in his eye that he wasn’t thinking good thoughts. She also knew that a smile was all it would take to calm him. He used to hate that about her, that she knew every little detail there was to know about him. In her last months, Raymond grew to love each and every of her quirks, too.
He said nothing back and just returned her smile. After thirty years of marriage, a smile could say a thousand words. Despite everything, hers had only faded a flicker. Even after all the misdiagnoses, the heartbreak and the tribulations, she never lost her smile.
Without saying a word, Raymond leaned in and planted a long kiss on her forehead. Backing away just a step, he crossed one arm over his chest and swayed back and forth slowly, a gesture special to only the two of them.
I love you.
***
He wasn’t far away now. The Cortina’s engine, which had once purred like a contented house cat, coughed and threatened to break down with every inch of road travelled. Raymond would be lucky if it survived the trip home, but he didn’t care. All he could think about was getting there.
His hip was giving him hell – there was no chance he could go on without affording it a proper night’s rest. Sleeping in the car again wasn’t going to get him anywhere apart from a bad back to add to the list of things that made him resent old age. He had no choice but to find a motel for the night. But where? There hadn’t been any signs on the road for dozens of miles and those that were there had been nothing but blurs to Raymond. His singular drive to go back to where it had all began had not only robbed him of a proper meal, it had now left him confused in the darkness. Stupid. Helen was always the smart one.
Mercifully, he found a ramshackle-looking motel that had seen too many years and pulled into its car park. The O and T of its flickering neon sign had long broken, leaving nothing but ‘MEL’ to permeate the night. If Raymond could concentrate on anything but the pain in his hip, he might have allowed himself a laugh. That was a rare thing for him lately.
***
There was no doubting that Raymond fell in love with Helen as soon as he saw her. He had seen it in the films, read it in the books and grimaced at it scrawled on public restroom doors, and yet he was always skeptical about it. After seeing how beautiful even her shadow was that had cast upon the jagged rocks of the cliff, he realised that it was more than just a sickly sentiment to sell cards. It was real.
After a few brisk steps up the hill, he stood by her side and gazed off into the distance, his hand used as a visor just like she did. She didn’t even acknowledge him, Helen always knew how to play it cool. A few minutes went by of contented silence, both of them relaxed enough to take in the wonder of the canyon before them. Lost in thought, Raymond forgot all about her and just enjoyed the quiet moment.
“Beautiful, isn’t it”.
She had broken their silent vow. He turned to her, almost in surprise. Raymond saw Helen’s face properly for the first time. Her shadow hadn’t lied, she was stunning. Her green eyes glinted with mischief, as they would for the decades to follow, even near the end. She smiled that smile at Raymond.
“It really is.”
***
The same hill which he had climbed with such ease thirty years ago may as well have been Everest to him. Each step needed a lungful of air, the pain in the hip not helped by a restless night on an unforgiving motel mattress. Come on, you old bastard.
When he reached the summit, the view that came to him so vividly decades ago was nothing but a vague shape. His eyes may be failing him and yet, Raymond could still remember exactly where she had been on that day, the clothes she was wearing, that damn smile. His memory hadn’t failed him, Raymond could never forget his promise. Using his right hand to wipe the sweat from his brow, he used his left to bring the urn up to his face. Hello, beautiful.
Helen had always wanted to come back here. With jobs, the kids and her poor health, life had found a way to stop it from happening. She made him promise that he would return here once she was gone, the only request she made of him during her worst days. He loved her for that.
Delaying every rotation of the urn lid as much as he could, Raymond slowly lifted it off and didn’t allow a look inside. He stood there for what seemed like hours, staring off into the distance and thinking of their first meeting. The silhouette had become his wife, the mother to his children. He turned back to gaze at his. The rocky canvas painted a picture of a frail, old man struggling to let go.
She wanted this. He knew he had to do it. Sighing, he tilted the urn and what left of Helen came pouring out, caught on a breeze. And with that, she was gone. She was just dust.
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