Jeffery's Arc

Chapter 5 of 5

The camper stayed quiet for weeks. Jeffery stopped counting days. He ate little and slept less. He played scenes in his head where Melody came to the door. In every one, he kept it locked. He pictured her knocking, crying, begging to come in. He pictured himself not moving. He wanted her to feel the pain he felt. In his story she was the bad guy, and bad guys stayed outside in the cold. But the knock never came. Only the scenes came, over and over, until he could not tell them from real memory. Miles away, Melody sat on the floor of a small room that was hers alone. The backpack lay open beside her. She pulled out the gum he liked, the charger he borrowed, the bandaids she kept for him. One by one she set them on the floor. Her hands shook. Each thing she lifted felt like a thread she was cutting. It hurt worse than she expected. Her chest ached. Part of her still wanted to drive to the woods. Part of her still wanted to knock on his door. Then two girls were there. They stood in the doorway with soft light around them. She had seen them before, in the trees, when they showed her the path out. They did not speak. One shook her head slowly. The other pointed back to the open journal on the floor. Melody looked at the journal. She had not written in months. She picked up the pen. 'I am still in there,' she read from an old page. Her own handwriting. She turned to a blank page and wrote something new. She wrote that she was not going back. The white cat jumped onto her lap. It pressed its head against her hand, calm and warm. It had followed her out of the woods and never looked back. She stroked its fur and felt her breathing slow. She stood. She gathered the gum, the charger, the bandaids, and dropped them in the trash. The backpack felt lighter. She pulled on music and moved her bare feet across the floor, the way she used to dance alone before him. The two girls watched her dance. They smiled. Then the light around them dimmed. They faded until the doorway was empty. She did not need them anymore. Melody danced until she was tired. The cat watched from the windowsill. For the first time in months, she did not ache for Jeffery. She did not wonder what he felt. She let the thought of him pass through her and leave. She sat down and wrote one last line. She was free. Not someday. Now. In the woods, Jeffery kept his door locked against a knock that was never coming. He waited for a woman who had already stopped waiting for him.