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His body was never found.
The factuality of this stuns me, even though I had almost expected it. I wanted my search to give me another clue like this, something to tell me that my hope is not pointless. It’s the tiniest of straws, but I know that I will keep holding on to it until I know the truth – that I will search for him for however long it takes. There must be some kind of meaning in his message, or else he wouldn’t have written it the way he did. I know I am letting myself be consumed by hope, but I don’t know how to do anything else, because what if he is really alive? What if there was no body because he isn’t dead?
But what if I am misinterpreting this? Maybe my grief has taken a hold of me, and is preventing me from thinking properly, like a dark shadow clouding my mind. I can almost hear it laughing at me because I can be so easily convinced of something so utterly mad.
The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool. I have never been a wise man, if I had, I wouldn’t have ended up where I did.
And yet, despite the madness of it all, I have this gut feeling telling me that I’m not just seeing what I want to see. I know James, better than I know anyone, maybe even better than I know myself. We were all immersed in Shakespeare, his words sometimes being easier for us to use than our own, as if they were our first language. But James had always been the best at interpreting Shakespeare’s words, at using them as though they were his. In a way they were, with all the characters he’d played still a part of him. If he chose Pericles, then those weren’t Shakespeare’s words he left me, those were his own. Pericles was saved after thinking he would drown at sea and being washed ashore. After saying the words James left me. The metaphoricity of it all – Pericles surviving the sea and being reunited with his lover, James reciting these lines to me at the shore in Del Norte, James seemingly drowning himself – is too meaningful.
James has always been my anchor, my home, I never imagined a life without him. He was all I had really been living for these last ten years. When Pip told me he was gone, my world fell apart, and if there is even the slightest of chances that he is still here, somewhere, I am sure as hell going to look for him, whatever it takes.
After a restless night, I take a bus to Filippa’s place, quickly informing her of my arrival while I’m already on my way. Twenty minutes later, I am standing on the porch of her lovely small house and knock at the door.
She opens almost immediately, as if she had been waiting. “Oliver! Are you okay? Come in”
I follow her to a cozy living room where she motions toward the couch. “Please, sit. Can I get you some water?” I nod and she disappears into the kitchen for a moment, before returning with two glasses of water and sitting down on an armchair next to me. With a still worried expression she asks, “You’ve read the letter, haven’t you?”
I nod. “Have you ever read it?”
“No, of course not,” she says. “Why, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I- it’s just… his body was never found.”
She lets out a long breath and looks at me with the same compassion with which you would look at a child who has lost something. “I know,” she says. “Oliver, I don’t know what he wrote in that letter, but you have to let him go. I know you loved him, but you have to take care of yourself too.”
I cast my gaze down to my fidgeting fingers, a mixture of fear and hope making my entire body feel restless. “I still love him,” I say, truthfully. “I can’t let him go. Not yet. I don’t know if I ever can. It’s been four years for you, but not for me, Pip.”
She sighs. “I know. And I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you. I cared about him too, you know. He was family and losing him hurt so much. But you’re family as well, Oliver, and I can’t lose you too. Not again.”
“You won’t lose me,” I try to assure her, but I can’t really convince either of us that this is a promise. “But there is something I need to do, and that`s why I’m here, actually.” I pull out James’s letter and hand it to her. Carefully, she takes it and after a reassuring nod from me, she reads it.
“You think he might be alive,” she says, after a while. It’s not a question, so I don’t answer. She looks at me with her warm eyes and there’s pity in them, but I can see a softness too that gives me a glimpse of hope.
“I’m not going to tell you that I think you’re right, but I do see why you think he could be alive.”
I almost want to cry. She can see it too, then. I have not lost my mind.
“He chose these words, Pip, he must have wanted them to mean something, to tell me something. And Pericles, it’s- he’s not dead. His lover thinks he is, but then they-” My voice cracks, tears welling up in my eyes, threatening to spill over. Filippa takes my hand into both of hers. “They reunite. I know. I do see it, Oliver, I truly do. But maybe this was just his way of saying goodbye. You’ve already spent ten years in prison for him, you can’t spend the rest of your life searching for him, do you have any idea what that might do to you?”
The years have left their marks on me, and even I don’t know how much more I can bear. “I wasted time, and now doth time waste me. But wasted is not the time I spent in prison for him, only the time I had to be away from him. I have to look for him, Pip. I don’t expect you, or anyone, to understand, but these words, their metaphorical sense and their part in our story must mean something. He must have known I’d interpret the passage like this. If he wrote this to tell me he’s alive, he must have wanted me to find him. He needs help, and I have to be there for him, because I wasn’t there for him then. I’ve made so many mistakes, I need to make some of it right.”
“I understand,” she says in a way that I know she truly does, and it’s all I need. “But please, Oliver, promise me that you will call me now and then. Promise you won’t destroy yourself with this. You have to live, you deserve it, if not for yourself, then for him.”
“I promise, Pip,” I say, and I mean it, mostly. I will try to find a way to live my own life and search for him if I can’t find him right away. But I know I wouldn’t be able to give up. But if I’m right about this, James must be somewhere I will be able to find him. It won’t be easy, but it won’t be impossible. I get up and say goodbye to her. “Thank you for everything, Pip.”
She hugs me tightly. “I love you, Oliver, don’t you forget that.”
“I love you too.”
“I really hope you’ll find him.”
Three weeks later, I am on a train to Del Norte. It’s James’s last words to me, “Hell. Del Norte. Nowhere. I don’t know”, that made me choose to start my search there. I am not sure whether I will find him there or whether he went to a completely different place, a different country, maybe. But then again there are few places where you could disappear as easily as in California. I think of these last moments with him, of how he kissed my hand. I don’t know how I could have ever denied my feelings for him and have thought a lot about what might have been prevented if we had both accepted the truth. He looked so utterly broken that day, and I’m afraid of how I might find him. What if I won’t even recognize him? What if those four years were too long, and he couldn’t bear to make it through this time?
But what if you do find him, and you will both be okay?, a small, more hopeful, voice whispers in my head, and I choose to hold on to this thought for now, any other possibilities are too painful to agonize over. He asked for my help, and I cannot fail him, not again.
I told Meredith where I was going, she doesn’t deserve to suffer from my selfishness any longer. Understandably, she wasn’t as fond of my plan as Filippa was.“I can’t believe you! You spent ten years in prison for him and you’re still gonna throw away more years for him and your idiotic idea that he might be alive! I was never enough for you!” She was furious at first, but I tried my best to show her that I understand the validity of her anger, something I hadn’t had much practice at, considering how I’d treated her in the past. We sat down again to talk, more calmly, and eventually she accepted that I needed to go, for which I will forever be grateful. We’re older now, she knows how I really feel about James, and I think she also knows that whatever it was we’d had since I got out of prison was temporary, more of a status quo than a burning love. I hope one day I can make her understand how truly sorry I am for everything, but I know that it will take a long time to make it up to her.
It’s already dark when I arrive at my destination at last. I make my way to the B&B I’d booked, in a town close to the beach James and I spent a day at all those years ago, a memory that belongs solely to the two of us. An elderly woman opens the door for me and kindly shows me to my room. Since it is so late, I stay in my room and reread his letter and my battered copy of Pericles, looking for another sign that never comes, until I fall asleep late at night.
I wake up early, nervousness coursing through my body like tiny spiders. After a quick breakfast, I make my way to town. I am not sure how to even start looking for James, but I am hoping that I might find someone who recognizes him. Or maybe I will be lucky for once and find James himself. I spend the day asking almost everyone I see whether they know a man named James Farrow, even though he might be using a different name, and show them a photo of him, but with no success. Every time someone walks past me who has the same hair color as him or even just a similar style, I can’t help but inspect them closely, but he isn’t among them. I wonder what I will do if I can’t find him, how I will be able to decide to leave this place and look somewhere else. What if he is here and I just keep looking in the wrong corners? I know I have to be patient, my search has only just begun, but James has been waiting for four years. I have no idea what state he might be in and I’m afraid that the chances of finding him alive will diminish with every day I can’t find him. But I am to wait, though waiting so be hell.
I decide to go to our beach. I don’t expect him to just sit there and wait for me, but I suppose I need to feel him, somehow, to find a piece of him. Something that gives me the strength to keep going. I sit down on the sand, memories coming back to me like waves crashing against rocks. James and I, skinny dipping in the ocean, falling asleep on the beach, walking to the car naked, our clothes stolen; the sound of James’s laughter, the tiny dimples in his cheeks, the way his eyes lit up when he smiled. James’s voice. His face. James, James, James.
“Where are you?” I whisper, but the only reply I get is the soft murmur of the waves.
I sit there for a long time, bathing in memories of James and our time at Dellecher, before I go back to the B&B and get some much-needed sleep.
The next day, I continue my exploration of the town and come across a small alley. I wasn’t expecting to find anything useful here, until I see a wooden sign on one of the narrow buildings that says “BOOKS”. I had not even thought of specifically searching for bookstores, but now that I see this one, I suddenly feel hopeful. James loved books. We all loved books. After all, they’re what brought us together in the first place. Could he be in there, selling books, hoping I might come here one day and make the very assumption I am making now? This bookstore feels like the first sign that actually makes sense, that has a connection to him, to us. I enter the bookstore, half expecting to find him there, behind the counter. Instead, an old man smiles at me and inspects me through his low-sitting glasses. His name tag identifies him as Joseph. “Good afternoon, young man! Is there anything I can help you with?”
“Hello. There is, actually. Or there might be,” I say, pulling out James’s picture. “I am looking for this man. Is there any chance he comes here sometimes or even works here?”
He takes the photo in his fragile looking hands, holding it close to his eyes. “I’m afraid my eyes are rather bad these days. I’m not sure that I recognize him. Maybe- What was his name?”
“His name is James, but I’m not sure he still… wants people to call him that. And this photo was taken ten years ago, so he would look a bit older now.”
“Ten years, you say? Well, you know, he does remind me of the man who helps me out in the shop sometimes, and his name is Jim. That is similar enough, isn’t it?”
Jim. Almost like a shorter version of James. Could this really be it? Could I be lucky enough to find him on my third day? I almost can’t believe it, but don’t we deserve some luck, after everything that has gone so terribly wrong?
“He works here? Really? Is he coming in today?”
“No, I’m afraid not. I think he will be in again on Friday, that is our busiest day.”
“I see. Could you give me his address, maybe? Or call him?”
“I am not allowed to give out addresses, I am sorry. But yes, I can call him for you.”
“That would be very kind, thank you so much!” My heart is beating so fast by now I can barely focus on anything else. ‘Expectation is the root of all heartache’, I think to myself, trying not to be too hopeful and failing miserably.
After what feels like forever, someone finally seems to have picked up on the other end of the line. I can’t hear a voice and the anticipation is driving me mad.
“Jim, there is a young man here in the bookstore who is looking for someone,” Joseph says into the phone. “Do you know someone of the name- sorry, what was your name?” He looks at me and I answer his question. “Of the name Oliver Marks?”
There seems to be a silence on the other end, broken by Joseph asking, “Jim? Are you there?”
I fear my heart might be about to break my ribcage and I almost jump over the counter to get the phone and talk to James myself. It has to be him.
“Alright, I’ll tell him. Bye, Jim,” Joseph says before hanging up. “Well, Mr Marks, it seems your search has been successful. Jim will be here in fifteen minutes.”
I must be dreaming. This cannot be happening. I am going to see James again. In fifteen minutes. I can feel my eyes filling with tears, the incredibility of this overwhelming me.
“I cannot thank you enough,” I say to Joseph. “Truly, you’ve saved my life.”
“Oh, he seems to be quite important to you! How do you know him?”
“We went to college together.” I tell him, and it is the biggest understatement, but I cannot trust my voice to say any more than that, cannot even trust myself, because this almost seems too good to be true.
Joseph kindly closes the store for the afternoon. “So you two can have some privacy,” he says. “I’ll be upstairs in my flat if you need anything.”
“You are too kind, thank you so much.”
The next fifteen minutes are the longest of my life. I can’t stop pacing, occasionally I sit down on an armchair only to get up again and walk through the entire bookstore. And then, finally, I hear a key unlocking the now closed front door. I direct my gaze towards it and- it’s him. It’s James, standing right there, looking at me as though he cannot believe I am really here, and I, too, wonder if he might be a product of my imagination, if ghosts can look this real. “I’m so sorry. James is gone”, I hear Filippa’s words in my mind. But he isn’t. He's here. Alive.
“James,” I whisper, as we walk towards each other, slowly, carefully. I don’t even dare to blink, afraid that if I stop looking at him for even just a second, he might vanish.
“Oliver. You came.”
“You’re alive! Oh God, you’re really alive, I thought I’d never- I-” I take a final step forward and pull him into an embrace, holding him tightly, the tears I had been holding back finally streaming down my cheeks. I feel his arms wrapping around me, and it’s everything. I close my eyes and bury my face in the crook of James’s neck, breathing in his familiar scent. We stand there in silence for a moment, just holding each other. I can tell he’s crying too and feel his hands pressing me closer to him, as if he’s afraid I might leave if he doesn’t hold me in place. I will never leave him, not again.
“I can’t believe it’s really you,” I say, quietly.
“I can’t believe you really came,” James says.
When we drift apart, I finally get to look at him properly. He looks a bit older, everything that’s happened has left its marks on him. But he doesn’t look as ill as he did four years ago, and I feel relieved. His eyes are still the same shade of grey, specked with gold. Still kind and warm. His slightly defined cheekbones and perfect mouth still remind me of a Disney prince. He’s so beautiful.
“Of course I came,” I say. “Do you have any idea- I thought I’d lost you; all I wanted after getting out of prison was to see you again, and to think I never would- it nearly destroyed me. When I got that letter and realized that you might be alive, of course I had to look for you, James. I had no idea how to live without you.”
“I’m so sorry, Oliver. I can’t even begin to express how sorry I am. I just- I didn’t know what to do and I know this is crazy, and I know I hurt you and I’ll never forgive myself for that, but I couldn’t-” I can see new tears rolling down his cheeks and the sight makes my heart ache. He didn’t deserve to suffer as much as he has.
“It’s okay,” I tell him, because it is. “We can talk about it all now. Would you like to go to the beach?” Perhaps I’m trying to stall for time before starting the difficult conversations that lie ahead of us. But maybe I’m also hoping for them to get easier in the familiar location.
“I’d love to,” he says, a barely noticeable smile on his lips.
Side by side, we make our way to the beach, the sun warm on our faces. “I thought I was losing my mind after I read your letter,” I say after a while. “I didn’t even know you were…gone until after I got out, and I only received your letter then. I was so afraid that I’d find you too late, or that I’d never find you at all.”
He looks at me with a shocked expression. “Oh God, Oliver, I thought they’d told you, I’m so sorry! When I left you that letter, I knew you’d be in prison for another four years. I was going to try to stick it out until you’d be able to find me. I wasn’t sure I could, but I had to try, for you.”
“But why? Why fake your own death?” I’m afraid to ask, but I need to know.
He closes his eyes for a moment and exhales heavily. He doesn’t reply for a moment, probably trying to come up with the right words. “Seeing Dellecher, seeing the others. Seeing you, in prison. It was too hard. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to be there anymore. I didn’t want to be at all.” He shrugs, and this small gesture only emphasizes his pain more – James, who had once been so full of life, now so broken that he tries to brush off his unwillingness to live with a shrug, as though it didn’t matter. “On one of those days when it was all too much again,” he continues, “I drove to the beach, and I was really going to do it. Better be with the dead, // Whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace, // Than on the torture of the mind to lie // In restless ecstasy. But then I thought of you. Of how unfair it would be; you being in prison, serving my time, while I’m out here and just… leave you like that. You would have been in there for nothing. I couldn’t do that to you, after what you’d done for me, but I couldn’t keep living the way I had either. The person I used to be was already dead anyway, and I thought the others would be better off without me. So I decided to… do what I did and leave you the note, because I was hoping you’d understand and come find me, but I also wanted to give you a choice in case you didn’t want to see me again.” He looks up, directs his gaze at me, and I can see tears in his eyes and wish I could take his pain away, feel it for him. I put my hand on his shoulder to pause his walking for a moment and to make him look at me, because I need him to see that I mean my next words. “James, no one would be better off without you, especially me. The others miss you and I missed you too, so much. I can’t even begin to express how happy I am that you’re alive.”
His expression softens, but I can still see the guilt in his eyes. “I know what I did was selfish, but being here helped me, being away from everything and at the same time feeling connected to you. That’s what I’ve been living for. The memories of you and the hope of seeing you again. But I know I hurt you and I’m so sorry for that.”
“Don’t be sorry. What I did was selfish, but not what you did.” I’m not mad at him for faking his own death. I thought I would be, but I can’t. The things that happened to him broke him, and most of it is my fault. Right now, I’m just glad that he’s doing better, that he’s alive. “If any of us needs to ask for forgiveness, it’s me, James. But not you. God, not you. I slept with Meredith that night. I went to prison even though you begged me not to. But I didn’t see how much it would hurt you. I was so afraid of what being in prison would do to you. You’re too kind, too gentle. I wanted to save you, and I’d do it again if I thought it would help you.”
When we arrive at the beach, there are no other people there, as the sun has almost entirely gone down by now. James and I come to a halt near the ocean and stand to face each other.
“I know you were trying to save me, but I didn’t want you to, Oliver, because I was the reason he was in that lake, not you. Watching you go down for what I did, it was so painful.” He looks so small, so fragile, and I fight back the urge to embrace him again.
“I know I made things worse. I can see that now,” I say. “I was trying to make things right. Richard was mad at me, and I couldn’t let you go to prison for something that I set in motion. None of it was your fault. I felt so guilty and so scared for you, I couldn’t bear it. I’m sorry.”
“But it is my fault! I hurt him! I killed him, Oliver, that wasn’t you.” I can sense that there is still some anger that has been buried deep inside of him for years. He has every right to be mad at me, but I still believe that I deserved to be in prison more than he did, and that his soft soul was not made to live under such circumstances. Whether the circumstance I caused him to be in was better or worse, I am not sure now. Back then I thought that keeping him out of prison would be better, no matter what. I did what I thought was the right thing to do, and I will never know what the best option would have been. Maybe both were equally terrible.
“It was me,” I say. “And it was also you. And it was Filippa, and Alexander, and Meredith, and Wren. It was all of us, because we decided to leave him in that lake. We decided not to save his life. If we hadn’t, he’d be alive. But maybe instead, one of us would be dead. He almost killed you! After everything he’d done to us, it was only a matter of time until something worse would have happened. No one else deserved to suffer because of him, James. More than anything, Richard caused his own death. But despite it all, you wanted to save him, because that’s who you are. You’ve always been the kindest one of us.” I put my hand on his shoulder, and he looks up at me, eyes wet with tears. “Do as the heavens have done, forget your evil; With them forgive yourself.”
“I can’t. I ruined everyone’s lives. Your life.”
“No, you didn’t! Richard did. But it’s over, James! It’s all in the past now. We paid for it, all of us. We all went to prison – the prison of never being able to escape this, the prison of a pain that will never really subside. The prison of loneliness. My prison just had bars. We all deserve to live our own lives now. The others are okay, I’m not in prison anymore. You have to start living too. He has already taken so much from us. Don’t let him take away our future as well.”
He's still crying, and I know he wants to protest, but I can also see a glimpse of something else in his eyes that gives me hope. I will be there for him now, and he’ll be okay, one day.
“You don’t hate me?” It almost doesn’t sound like a question, more like an assessment that surprises him, but I answer anyway because I need him to know. I finally need to tell him how much he means to me.
“Hate you? God, James, I could never hate you! Do you have any idea how much I loved you? And I still do.” I move my hand to his face and gently wipe away some of his tears. “I love you so much.”
His expression softens, and he looks like it’s hard for him to believe that anyone would love him. “I love you too. And I’m sorry for that too, for not admitting it.”
“So am I.” I smile at him. “But we’re here now. And it’s gonna be okay. I’m going to be here for you. I won’t leave you again. I promise.”
For the first time, the fear in James’s eyes seems to subside, and he looks hopeful. I take a small step towards him, and for a moment, we just look at each other. I notice the light in his eyes, the delicate features of his beautiful face, his slightly disheveled hair. The sun has now fully disappeared, stars shining above us instead, their light reflecting in the ocean behind James. I think of the night of the party, before it all went downhill. James and me, in the garden, gazing at the constellations. And, inevitably, I think about King Lear, too. The stars reflected on the stage, James in my arms, his expression a mixture of immeasurable fear, but at the same time, relief, because he knew I would be there with him, every step of the way. I always would. I remember him pulling me down, the feeling of his lips on mine. How heartbreaking this kiss was, but how beautiful at the same time. I knew then that I would always love him, that I had always loved him. “Love is not love // Which alters when it alteration finds, // Or bends with the remover to remove: // O no! it is an ever-fixed mark // That looks on tempests and is never shaken,” I whisper, our faces only inches apart now. James smiles, and this time, I am the one who pulls him towards me, and when our lips brush slightly, I don’t feel pain. I only feel love. He leans in closer and captures my bottom lip between his lips. I can feel him gripping my shirt, pulling me even closer to him. We are both breathing heavily, our mouths moving against each other, our tongues meeting occasionally. I move my hand through the soft hair at the back of his head and hope this moment never ends.
When we do break apart, I keep my eyes closed for a moment, reveling in the feeling of being here with James, his forehead still pressed against mine. I move my hand from where it had been resting on the side of his neck down his arm, and reach for his soft hand.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” James says, as if he still can’t believe it. I move my head away from his a bit, looking at him.
“My bounty is as boundless as the sea, // My love as deep. The more I give to thee, // The more I have, for both are infinite,” I say. It’s a line from Romeo and Juliet, the play that made me aware that what I’d felt for James was something deeper than friendship. But I was too much of a coward to admit it, too busy trying to convince myself that I wasn’t in love with him even to notice that James needed my help. But I’m not scared anymore, and I won’t let him down again. James smiles brightly, and it’s like the sun has come back out. “O blessèd, blessèd night! I am afeard, // Being in night, all this is but a dream, // Too flattering sweet to be substantial,” he says. They’re Romeo’s words, and this time, I am finally cast as his lover.
“It’s real. We’re real, James. Nothing can come between us again now,” I say, because I need him, need both of us, to know that the past is in the past and that our new life has finally begun, although I, too, have been wondering if I might be dreaming. If I am, I hope I’ll never wake up.
When he answers, his words are no longer from Romeo and Juliet, but no less meaningful.
“Thee will I love, and with thee lead my life,” he promises and I kiss him again.