THE FORTHCOMING CALL

It had been sixty years, four months, and ten days and yet Joyce had not laid eyes upon them. Today was the day and as she walked through the autumnal woods, with the warm, hue colours falling, she was terrified. She felt her fingers, cold like blocks of ice, quivering like a tree being vigorously shaken by squirrels. Joyce couldn’t tell if she was frozen or scared for what she may encounter.

She walked on, briskly one foot then the other, leaves crunching underfoot. Even though she hadn’t been here before, she could feel his presence, or more correctly, their presences. Up the winding path, where the wind blew towards her, and inside rusted green gates, which creaked when opened. She entered a garden full of life. Plants and flowers growing in tangles, weaving in and out. Electric colours of pinks and blues shot out, making the garden feel loved.

Their appearance was becoming more apparent. Shiny glows glistening, the nearer Joyce got. Their mouths were sealed shut but their bodies danced, joining in with the air, as it spun in every direction. Joyce needed to find him among the crowds of energy, and there he was, sat alone upon a rock in the corner of the garden.

Joyce came slowly up the path filled with cobbled stones. They noticed her scurrying up to him, smiled like a frog and nodded an exchange. Joyce nodded back and placed herself next to them, their legs swinging back and forth, the only trouble was, their limbs kept being dragged into the stone seat so they quickly stopped. The old woman rested her shaking hands, upon their own, also frozen to the bones, where they exchanged eyebrow signals. Before she had agreed to finally see them, after so many years, they had decided that when the day finally came, they would create their own language, only using their facial muscles. It was difficult at first and had many failed attempts but it seemed that they both knew how to communicate finally.

They knew each other like the backs of their hands. Every single vein and dark spot, every crack in their joints. Joyce lifted her left eyebrow up slightly, it hovered and wiggled and within moments they replied, their one eyebrow dancing around. Joyce smiled sweetly, and so did they. Their teeth burst out from their mouth with joy. Both rejoiced that they were no longer apart anymore. The other one suddenly looked solemn. Their head bowed and stared at a tiny weed, growing from the cracks of the stone cobbles. They looked up at Joyce, and she knew exactly what they meant.

New life was growing in the gardens and she knew she had to join them. Joyce looked back at the community dancing, their hands, feet, and bodies wobbling in celebration. They tapped her shoulder gently, when Joyce turned back, their arm was outreached, inviting her in for a dance of their own. Joyce knew she couldn’t stop the inevitable so she took their palm, frozen to the touch, meek and wisp like a shadow.

The other one pulled her up from where she was sitting, and both walked gracefully towards the dancing. She was old and preferred the traditional dance but her partner knew all too well. One arm around the others waist, they glided across the beds of flowers, opening and closing in time to the jazz music playing in the air. Joyce felt her body twist and glide like water weaving in between the others. She smiled; she laughed out loud, feeling as though she was being whisked around in the clouds, spinning around like a horse on a fairground carousel.

Joyce caught sight of them in the corner of her eye. They were not tearful, far from it, but they were not smiling for everyone to see. She could sense that they were happy but Joyce knew as she slowed down the pace, taking her arms away from their middle it was time. They stared at each other, gazing into each other’s eyes. The colours and light dancing around in their pupils. She knew it was time to leave this imaginary world and join herself, the body she dreaded to see all those years ago, and as she looked upon the little girl she was.

Small with large blue saucer eyes, looking up at her, they both communicated through their looks. We are the same person but you are real, she conveyed through eyebrow movements. I have lived the life I should have lived but it is time to face reality and join you.

Their palms touched ever so softly. Her tiny fingers, bony and fragile pressed into her own ancient skin. For a moment they locked eyes upon each other, but then Joyce was gone.

The garden vanished before the young girls’ eyes, the growing flower petals, the trees so tall, with autumnal leaves falling, the souls that celebrated their life through dance, all disappeared as she drew her last breath, lying in a hospital bed inside a room filled with white.

Her eyes were heavy and weak, the words uttering in her mind. She had lived the life she could have had if circumstances hadn’t cheated her. She was now satisfied and now she must sleep.