Dad told me that writing this all down wouldn’t be easy, but it would help me understand. He was right, and he was wrong. He was right when his said that it wouldn’t be easy, he was wrong when he said that it would help me understand. As I sit here looking at the pages filled with my writing, I still don’t understand. And the feelings of sadness and remorse fill me once again, threatening to break down the walls that I have created, and have a flood of emotions wash me away.
I’m done. The story is finished, the last word penned. It’s over.
But I can’t breathe a sigh of relief, because the memories and the feelings and the hurt are all still there, still alive inside of me. Writing down the story isn’t enough to make me understand. I need him.
I call for Deefer and he comes immediately, sitting at my feet and wagging his tail. The small driftwood carving of the dog catches my eye. Lucas made it, what feels like only days ago. I remember him placing it in my hands and explaining how he created it.
“I just found a piece of wood and cut away all the bits that weren’t Deefer.”
I brush away the memory and motion for Deefer to follow me out the door. He bounds after me with as much enthusiasm as a newborn puppy, leaping through the sand and snuffling up the shells. A brief smile touches my lips as I lead him towards the mudflats.
I know that going there is like sinking a dagger into my heart, but I have to face it. I have to get over it and move on with my life. The world keeps turning, and I can’t stay still forever.
Deefer freezes as we reach the edge of the flats. For a moment, he acts the way he does when only Lucas is there. Still and obedient, his tail swishing back and forth, his eyes wide and intelligent. But the moment passes. He springs away from me and into the slimy, oil like mud that make up the flats. I watch him for a minute, knowing that he can sense the solid ground, but then I realize exactly where he is.
He is standing next to an old boat wreck. There isn’t much left of it but some thin slivers of rotted planking, half a dozen blackened beams sticking up through the mud and one or two curls of rusted metal, but I know that boat anywhere.
Deefer is standing in the spot where Lucas stood, the night I lost him forever.
“Deefer!” I yell, and the dog looks at me from across the water. I know that if he takes one wrong move, he’s sunk. Literally. Just like Lucas.
“Deefer! Come back here!”
He’s motionless, staring back at me with his dark eyes and for an instant, I see them flash a cool blue.
Lucas.
The moment is over though and Deefer is back at my side, his tongue lolling out of his mouth and his fur wet and muddy. I take his face gently in my hands and look into his eyes. They’re the same dark brown that they have always been. No blue anywhere in his irises. I look out towards the mudflats and I try to see the swirls of color that Lucas showed me, the key to getting across them. I try to remember what they looked like the one time I crossed the muddy water. But of course, Lucas was there to guide me then.
“It’s easy, you can see the solid ground. Look. See how it colors the air?”
I can’t. Not without you.
I thought that coming here to the place where he died would help me get over it. Help me see that the story is over and that I have to move on. But all it does is send me more memories of Lucas.
I have written it all down. I have penned the story, but I haven’t escaped the pages.
I stare at the dark muddy brown spot where Lucas disappeared. A tear drips down my cheek and Deefer looks at me and whines in a way that I know he understands. I crouch down and hug the big dog close to me.
“I miss him,” I whisper into his ear. He gives another whine in response. “I know, you miss him too.” He nudges me with his nose, staring at me with his big dark eyes. I can’t be here anymore, so I stand and motion for him to follow. “Come on Deef, let’s go home.”
That night, I dream of Lucas. He’s standing in his green pants and shirt, his old walking boots laced on his feet, his canvas bag over his shoulder and his army jacket tied to his waist. He looks just like I first saw him, with his blond hair ruffled by the wind and his blue eyes ready to take on the world.
I don’t say anything for a minute; I just stare, taking in the full sight of him. His lips curl into the smile I know so well, and he turns and starts to walk away.
“Wait!” I cry before even thinking, Lucas doesn’t stop. “Lucas.” I run to catch up, but he always stays the same distance ahead. He suddenly stops and turns to look at me, and I wonder why he has paused. Then I see it, the old boat wreck, half sunk in the water. Right where Deefer had stopped today in the flats. Right where Lucas stepped off the solid ground, and into the airless mud.
Lucas looks at me with an expression on his face that I can’t comprehend. He picks up a piece of the wrecked boat and tosses it to me. I reach out to catch it and he disappears, leaving only the sliver of wood in my hands.
I wake up to find my hand curled around one of Lucas’s driftwood carvings. This one is not of Deefer, but of me. I remember when I found it in his canvas bag when my dad gave it to me once the police were done with it. It’s a simple carving, crude but beautiful. It has the same eyes as me, the same curve of the lips and the nose, even the way the hair falls on my forehead.
Holding the carving, I finally understand. Lucas wouldn’t want me to live out my life grieving him, spending my days reliving the past. He would want me to live. He would want me to be happy and free. It's what he's been telling me all along.
I understand now what my dad said when he suggested that I write it all down. By penning the words, I can release myself from the pages. I understand now that by writing Lucas’s story and by remembering all that happened, I could let it all go. I could learn to live with all that he has given me.
Before, I had clung to the past, wishing to change it.
But the world keeps turning and I can’t keep still forever.
I have to move on.
And now, I think I finally can.
So this is actually from a while ago for a school project where we were assigned to write an extra chapter of a book we read. At the time, I was reading Lucas by Kevin Brooks and thought it needed a little something more at the ending. I highly recommend the book if you enjoyed my extra chapter!
:) Kathryn