His Final Goodbye

A Story by Theresa V

A young man reflects on the ideas of loss and death, as he remembers a significant past event.

In the early hours of the morning, Jude stood on the shore where it all began, staring out at the disturbingly calm sea. The beach was the same as he remembered it from all those years ago; the clean sand stretching wide with no evidence of city life to be found for miles; the collection of large rocks that formed a small mountain on the left of the coastline; the abandoned lifeguard tower that stood like a warning to passersby. The only difference about the place was the feeling it provided to him: as a child he had felt a sense of wondrous adventure, whereas now he only felt bitter guilt. The sun was peeking over the horizon, its light using the still water as a canvas, painting an ocean of red. The air was stagnant, like the wind holding its breath. Jude glanced about looking for any sign of wildlife, but not a single living organism was to be seen. It was as if his surroundings had remembered him, and frozen in fear at his return. He shivered, clutching his jacket closer to his chest despite the warm morning air, and took a hesitant step towards the sand.

Eight years previously the day had begun stormy and threatening. Jude had lain in his bed drowsily, the loud rumbling of thunder and persistent beating of rain keeping him conscious. The storm was so loud he wasn’t aware of the tapping at his window at first. But as the knocking grew louder it came to his attention, and his slender legs carried him from his bed to the curtains, which he drew back to reveal his grinning best friend, Michael. Michael was an impish child, with wild black curls and a mischievous smile. Jude had been warned by his parents and peers that Michael was a strange and reckless boy and that friendship with him could only lead to trouble. Of course, Jude disregarded their advice, following his comrade everywhere with undying devotion. Michael always had the most elaborate and fantastical ideas, and Jude so admired his exuberant passion and determination.

On this particular day, Michael had come to Jude with wicked excitement, his latest plot brought on by the storm. He stood outside in only his swimming trunks with his black locks plastered to his pale face, his green eyes gleaming magnificently as he gestured for Jude to join him in the downpour. Quietly, as not to bring his departure to his parents' attention, Jude donned his swimming trunks and slipped out the window. Instantly he was drenched, and he wrapped his arms around himself as he bolted after his friend, who had already made his way down to the main road. The pair sprinted past their neighbours’ houses, laughing gleefully as they tromped through puddles and splattered themselves with mud.

The trek to the beach was a long one, so when the boys finally reached their destination Jude felt miserable. His feet ached, and he was chilled to the bone. On the contrary, Michael was still prancing ahead with his arms spread wide and his head held high. He gracefully executed a series of handsprings, and Jude, determined not to display his fatigue, attempted to follow suit; however, Jude was the clumsier of the two, and instead of landing successfully back on his feet, he took a nosedive into the wet sand. Michael erupted in a fit of laughter, and soon he, too, had fallen to the ground. Jude seized the opportunity to playfully attack Michael, by grasping his thin arms and pinning him to the ground. Michael fought back with delighted ferocity, his manic smile growing as he thrashed around wildly. He broke free of Jude’s grasp and took off towards the ocean, the still beating rain washing the mud off him as he fled.

Jude pulled himself from the ground more slowly; the physical exertion wearing on him and the heavy rain blinding him; but, all the same, he stood and raced awkwardly after his companion. Michael had quite the head start, and was forcing himself through the strong winds as he made his way to the small mountain of rocks, which loomed like a dark and forbidden castle in the terrific storm. Jude hadn’t made it halfway down the shore when Michael began to climb; gripping the sharp edges of the rocks, his agile body moving swiftly up the mound despite the violent wind and waves attempting to force him back. Suddenly, Jude felt in his gut that a terrible event was forthcoming. He tried to shout, but his words were swallowed by the squall. His feet would carry him no faster, and he tumbled to the ground, helpless as he watched the inevitable occur.

Michael had reached the top of the rocks, and he threw up his arms in victory, cheering inaudibly to the sky. He turned to grin at Jude with a great gleam in his eyes and his black hair flying in the wind; nothing about him demonstrated fear of what was to come. The rocks were wet and slippery, and as lithe as he was, Michael was no match for the vicious weather. The last image Jude remembered of his friend was the way he was beaming as a strong gust of wind forced him off the cliff to be swallowed by the sea.

Jude took a deep breath as he approached the formation of rocks; they seemed as mountainous to him as they had when he was a child. He began the climb determinedly, ascending swiftly, but as he got closer and closer, to the top his breath quickened, and he felt nauseated. He reached the top a mess; his hands were shaking violently and tears streaking his face. It had been eight long years, but he remembered it all so vividly. He blinked, and there it was again: the monstrous sky and snarling sea; Michael’s long and limber body; the dauntless smile before he was claimed by the greedy ocean. Jude fell to his knees, his arms forward, clutching at the ground as he retched.

Jude thought back to the weeks following Michael’s death. He never cried; he wandered around blank-faced, often returning to the beach against his parents’ wishes. He would stand on the shoreline, staring out at the sea, waiting for Michael to return. Jude had only been ten years old, and his young mind hadn’t experienced loss as yet. Death seemed like a false notion to him; he had firmly believed that a person could not just simply cease to exist. To Jude, Michael had just embarked on another magnificent adventure. Jude’s parents thought something was the matter with him and paid large sums of money to several different doctors. With each new one, the hope that surely they would be able to cure their boy decreased. Finally, his parents decided that distance would serve best, and Jude was given a fresh start; a new life to forget his morbid fascination. And, eventually, his parents were satisfied, because, as the years passed, they saw Jude come to succeed. He excelled in his classes, he easily made friends every place he went, and he grew up a healthy, strong young man. And Jude too felt that he had recovered; thoughts of Michael faded to a distant memory in the back of his mind.

On the day of Jude’s graduation, as he threw his cap high into the air with the rest of his classmates, an abrupt thought struck him with no warning: he wondered where Michael was. A rotten feeling formed in his gut, and he had to excuse himself from the ceremony quickly. He sprinted to his car, and without thinking, just began to drive. He barely made any stops; just the occasional caffeine refill to keep him conscious during his long journey. His hometown had welcomed him eerily, and although it had been so many years, he found his way to the beach with ease.

Jude’s guilt consumed him. He saw that he had had a good and prosperous life-- one that Michael was never able to have. He remembered how he had stood on the shore that day, watching uselessly as his best friend fell to his demise. Had he been so foolish as to think that Michael was certainly not gone? He had convinced himself with fabrications that Michael was out there somewhere still; that death was not permanent. A scream escaped Jude’s lips; harsh and years old, the scream echoed piercingly across the calm sea. He was angry at the sea for being so peaceful, its deceptive beauty mocking him. He wondered where the angry waves were now; the ones that he felt he so deserved. He had made his decision, and he loathed the sea for refusing to help him.

Jude glared into the water, preparing to jump, hoping the rocks below may be enough to bring him peace: but as he stood facing his death, he saw something that astonished him. It only lasted a second, but Jude was absolutely certain he saw the glint of a smile beneath the water. His eyes grew wide, and he took a step back. After a few moments of being paralyzed, he shook himself to his senses and let out a breathy laugh. Instantly he realized his hypocrisy: if he felt such remorse for the years that Michael lost, how dare he willingly give up his own? Jude let out a joyous cry, and carefully he climbed down the rocks, which seemed much smaller now. Back on the shore, he stood facing the ocean for a long while. Then, with a slight smile and a parting wave, Jude turned and made his way back to his car, the road ahead of him seemingly endless. His final goodbye was complete, and to himself Jude promised to live the adventure Michael never had.