Kelly McGuigan Mrs. Amberg: Lesson #7
ELA – “Doors to Stories” Domiciles Project: Door # 5
Gouverneur High School
Our Last Moment
It’s September 18, 2013 and I’m on your doorstep wondering if you still think of me as I think of you. I come here every year on this same day and wonder what it would be like if we were still together. It’s been forty years and so many things have changed. I am not the young, healthy boy I once was. I don’t think you’d even recognize me anymore. You came from a rich family whereas I had barely anything. I still wonder why you chose me when you were engaged to be married to a very wealthy man who worked for your father. You’ve had anything you wanted, yet you were going to leave it all for me.
I remember our last day as if it were yesterday; you told me your father and fiancée, Bryce, were away on business, so we would have the day to ourselves. Oh the things I had planned for us! I walked to your house, picnic basket in hand. I knocked quietly on your door and waited on the porch. Looking in through the windows, I examined the giant wrap-around staircase. I laughed, remembering the many times you had almost fallen down them in your clumsy attempt to run to me.
Suddenly, the door opened, breaking me out of my thoughts as you stepped through. As you carefully locked the door, I couldn’t help but study your features as I had hundreds of times before. Bright blonde hair framed your face; eyes as blue as the ocean shone as they met mine; your soft pink lips formed a smile and your pale cheeks were now a rosy red as you noticed me staring.
“Hello John.” You said quietly as I took your small hand in mine, squeezing it gently.
“Hello Annie.” I pulled you along behind me as we walked down our path. Trees lined it, blocking the world from us. Once we reached our spot, I set the basket down and pulled you closer to me, wrapping my arms around your tiny body.
“I love you.” I whispered as if someone might hear.
“I love you too.” You replied, pulling away and kissing my cheek gently. “Now,” You sat down next to the basket, “Shall we eat?”
“We shall!” We ate the tiny sandwiches you always claimed to love so much (Although I was positive that you had never really liked them.) and we lay under the tress, looking up at the flowers that had grown upon the branches. As you spoke, I would steal quick glances at you and I know you would do the same.
I loved the way your eyes would crinkle at the corners when you laughed or smiled widely and how your nose would scrunch up when you didn’t agree with what I was saying. I loved every single little thing about you.
“John?” you asked shyly.
“Yes?” I turned and propped my head on my hand so I could look at you better.
“Let’s run away!” There was a hint of excitement in your eyes.
“Now Annie, I don’t know… what if-“You cut me off then.
“Just think about it! Me and you… forever! No Bryce, no Daddy, nobody to stand in our way! Please John!” You spoke in a heated rush; I could tell how badly you wanted this.
After a minute of silence I agreed, “Okay…”
“Really?” You jumped up and looked down at me, “You really mean it?” I nodded my head and you pulled me up, hugging me tightly. As I pulled away, a slight breeze knocked all the flower petals into the air and they gently floated around us. I took your hands in mine and we danced. I twirled you around and we glided to no music, just the sound of our hearts. As we danced, I thought about our future and became happier every second. After a while the sun began to set, and we rushed back to your house.
As you went to unlock the door, I noticed it was already slightly opened.
“Is your father back?” I asked in a hushed tone.
You just laughed, “It’s an old house, I probably forgot to lock it and it opened.”
“But-“I knew you had locked that door, but you were convinced otherwise.
“No buts!” Pick me up tomorrow before dawn. Then we’ll leave this place.” You smiled and before I could say anything you crashed your lips to mine and ran inside, closing the door behind you. That short but sweet kiss was one of the last moments we spent together. You died that night.
When I went to your house the next morning to get you, the police were there as well as your father and fiancée. I walked into the house and saw a yellow outline where your body had been. Bryce told the police you had fallen down the stairs. I looked at that spot for what seemed like hours, a sharp pain growing in my chest. You, my life, my love, were gone.
As I slipped out the door to leave a hand caught my shoulder, spinning me around. It was one of your maids. She told me how your death was no accident and that Bryce had pushed you down the stairs after confronting you about us. Bryce caught the maid spying and threatened her, saying if she told the police, she would be next. I nodded and thanked her politely, leaving as quickly as possible.
Rumor has it that Bryce left the country soon after to grieve. I think he may have gotten what he deserved.
It’s September 18, 2013 and I’m sitting on your doorstep wondering if you still think of me or miss me as badly as I miss you. Every day I wonder why such terrible things happen to the best people.