So Long, At Last

The sky was a clear, endless blue. The kind of blue that you could look at and believe that there was still good in this world. I traipsed through the field of wildflowers, a basket of groceries bumping against my leg. The flowers were in full bloom, a dizzy array of colours, brightened by the sun. My feet kicked up the dust as I left the field for the dirt track leading to the house. I was humming a marching tune when I noticed the two figures ahead of me. My heart stilled in my chest as every thought and feeling evaporated inside me, replaced by dread, as heavy and thick as tar.

Father Thomas and Father Winston were making their own way up to the house. The Fathers moved as one, as though they were already leading a funeral march.
“Father!” I called as I broke into a run, the basket swinging wildly, my skirts flapping against my legs. The Fathers turned, wearing matching expressions of surprise at the sight of me acting with such abandon. They waited until I had reached them, their expressions now kindly sombre. I knew what they were here for, to tell us the news that we had been trying so hard to avoid since my brother had left for the bloody and mysterious Western Front.
“Evelyn,” Father Thomas said, his voice heavy, “is your father home?” Gasping for breath, I nodded and, depositing the basket at their feet, ran onwards to the small paddock attached to the house. I knew Da would be there, tending to the one meagre cow we had left. My skirts bunched in my fists, I easily vaulted over the low fence.

“Da!” I screamed, my breath coming in short gasps that were only partly to do with the run. There had been such desperation in my voice that my Da had come as quickly as his bad leg would allow. I could feel the Fathers’ presence behind me, and Da must have seen them because his face clouded over with realisation. He slowed to a walk trying, I knew, to delay the moment where he could no longer deny the truth. Dragging his bad leg behind him, Da reached us.
“Ev,” he said gruffly, not taking his eyes off the Fathers, “go inside.” I nodded, choking through tears and ran up the porch steps. I slammed the kitchen door behind me and leant against it, as if I could keep out what was going to consume us all.

“Ev? What are you doin’?” My ma was at the sink, a dishcloth hanging limply in her hands, “Where're the groceries?” I had completely forgotten the groceries. I gaped speechlessly at her as she frowned and peered through the window. Her eyes widened as she grabbed me by the elbow and roughly pushed me aside. She strode outside and I numbly realised that she was actually going to meet this monstrous thing head on. I stumbled to the window and watched as Ma ran down the porch steps. Father Winston spoke and her heartbroken wail pierced the quiet air. She clutched at Da, who spoke briefly to the Fathers before turning to Ma and burying his face in her neck. The Fathers left, leaving Ma and Da half in the dirt, shattering into pieces. I watched the Fathers walk away, swaying in unison like twinned Grim Reapers.

Later that day, I left Ma and Da sitting soundlessly at the table, and I walked back to the field of wildflowers. I lay in the overgrown grass and squinted up at the sun in the sky. The sky was still that clear, bright blue, but as I looked at it, all I could see was a vast blankness that stretched out for ever and ever. I wondered briefly if it was the same sky my brother stared up at as he lay dying in France. Somehow, I doubted it.