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I’ve only been out of jail for few months, but it felt like years.
The letter that James had left behind for me haunts me every day and every night. Haunts me, but gives me hope.
Even though James was the main hero, the Romeo, and I had always been his right hand, for these last months I’ve felt more like Romeo myself.
And he was my Juliet. Did he really commit? Did he not? Did he only leave me a letter for me to not end myself like Romeo did when he learned about the fate of Juliet? Or did he run away and was waiting for me somewhere, like Juliet had planned?
My head was spinning from the possibilities. I understood what Schrödinger meant with his stupid cat. James is both alive and dead until his body is found.
I haven’t told Meredith. I couldn’t.
She had welcomed me in her home and let me stay with her. But we weren’t together.
Not like we were before. None of us had told it out loud, but deep inside both of us knew. We could never be together again.
All I have done for James. All she had done to James. Maybe what we used to have back at Dellecher was real. But she knew I loved him more than I could ever love her.
She didn’t blame me for it. We were young. We were villains in the stories of our respective lives. I could never look at her the same again.
Still our bond was closer than anyones from our long gone group. We lived in harmony and support, holding on to one another like we were about to fall.
So when I told her that I’ll go search for a acting gig, she let me. I never had the chance to finish college, but still I thought of myself as of an actor.
Filippa wanted me to join her at Dellecher but, for obvious reasons, I refused. Alexander was looking for a place himself, Meredith was part of a full cast TV show and Wren…
We didn’t know what was up with Wren and honestly, I didn’t really care. It was terrible of me, but like I was able to let Richard die, I was able to forget her without an issue.
I waited till Meredith went to New York again and packed my bags with her.
“Good luck on your shooting.” I wished her at the airport. She rolled her eyes dramatically, but pressed a quick kiss to my cheek.
“Good luck on your search.” We waved goodbye and I went to my own check. I wondered if she worded the sentence like that by accident or because she knew what I was actually up to.
Last month, I started by visiting the place of James’ assumed death. Unsurprisingly, I haven’t found anything. The police even parked his car away.
Someone, probably his parents, had built a grave there for him. The cold tombstone with his name engraved caused my breath to stop.
At that moment, his death felt more real than listening to Pip’s story. James Farrow. I dropped to my knees and broke down again. The hope of his letter kept me going, but couldn’t keep me from this.
Collecting myself, two weeks later I continued researching locations of historical places mentioned in Pericles. Nothing. It wasn’t that surprising, but I still wanted to give it a chance.
And now, I was finally ready to go there.
“I can’t do this, Oliver.” He took my hand and pressed a soft kiss to it.
“Where are you going?” It felt like a goodbye.
“To hell. Del Norte. Somewhere. I don’t know.”
I tried to ignore the hell part that would indicate his planned suicide and instead focused on Del Norte.
The memories from our young days took over my mind and I closed my eyes and leaned back on the plane seat.
Oh, how inoccent we were. And how blindly in love. Those sweet days. If we were given more time, maybe we would realize it without murders.
I still felt James’ head lying on my shoulder at Thanksgiving. I felt how natural I had thought it was.
Tears threatened to start falling from my eyes again, when my mind drifted to our last play.
His soft, sweet kiss lingered on my lips for more than 10 years. Sometimes it felt like a poison. Sometimes it was a blessing. Most of the time it was the only thing that mattered.
When the plane landed, I imidiately aimed to the beach. I knew he wouldn’t be there. I just needed to hear the familliar sound of waves hitting the shore.
The sun was already setting. I had no plan. I intended to go from house to house, but what would I say after I knocked?
‘Hello, I’m sorry for interrupting but hadn’t you possibly seen James Farrow? He’s assumed dead but I’m just wondering-‘ definitely didn’t sound reliably.
I sat on the sand and listened to the water, thinking. I wanted to put my shoes off and walk through it, but I had remembered what happened to my clothes the last time I was here. We were here.
Eventually, I lied down and closed my eyes. It was dark already and I didn’t have the energy to go and search for a place to spend the night.
I almost felt James lying down next to me.
~~~~~
The night wasn’t a cold one, but when I woke up, the day was already warm. It took me a moment to realize I wasn’t at the beach anymore.
I was lying in a bed, and for a moment, I thought that my dismissal got cancelled and I was back in jail. But the room wasn’t blank and empty and the bed was comfortable.
I slowly stood up and looked through the window. I could see the beach from here. The view indicated that I wasn’t at the ground floor.
Slowly and carefully, I walked out of the room and found a staircase. I was probably planning to run away until I stepped on the lowest stair and spotted kitchen.
My legs gave up on me and I stumbled down to the floor.
I couldn’t make a sound, so I just stared at him, speechless, overwhelmed by everything I hadn’t felt since he had last visited me almost 5 years ago.
“Oliver.” There wasn’t a song that would sound sweeter than his voice saying my name.
Suddenly I managed to stand up and in a second, I threw myself at him.
“James.” I held him like he would disappear if I blinked. The tears I had stopped yesterday broke out and he wrapped his arms around me.
“I’m so, so, sorry Oliver.” I couldn’t talk again, so I just lowered my head to his shoulder and cried. After a bit, he started sobbing too.
I could feel his heart beating and it was the realest sound I have ever heard. His blood was warm and flowing. His body wasn’t motionless.
He was alive and he had found me.
When my mind started clearing, I lifted my head and looked at him. His eyes were watery and their color was a bit off, but they still were the most beautiful ones I’ve ever seen.
“Worthy prince, I know’t.”
I responded like I did many years ago, but this time I didn’t wait for him to pull me closer. I grabbed him by his neck and pressed my lips to his.
When there weren’t any audience and we weren’t tied to the roles of brothers, he kissed me like I knew he wanted to back then. When he knew it was our first and last time. When he didn’t know what I would do for him yet. In that simple kiss was more emotion that could be put into words, even if the one writing them was Shakespeare himself.
“A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”
“Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.“ We were throwing out quotes in the wrong order, but couldn’t bother to care. To us, they made sense.
“Give me my sin again.” We kissed again, and this time, it wasn’t as painful and melancholic. It felt like the stars had aligned for our happy ending.
“Stars, I envy you.” Whispered James to my skin like he was reading my mind.
I wanted this moment to never end, but there were too many questions and too little answers. We sat down on the couch, suppressing the urge to lie in one another’s arms and instead chose to look in the eyes.
“How did you…?” I started.
“I walk by Del Norte every night. People here don’t know me and nobody can recognize me.”
Only now have I realized that he had dyed his hair. And his eyes felt different because he wore colored lenses. Someone who hadn’t memorised his every feature wouldn’t come close to connecting the dots.
“And this night…oh, Oliver, I thought I died for real and was dreaming.”
The only words that managed to make their way out of my mouth were: “I was looking for you.”
“I hoped you would.”
His smile made me want to smile too. But… “Why did you do it?” I didn’t have to specify what I meant by Why.
“I’m sorry. I just couldn’t bear it. Nobody was after me but…people around me kept asking if I’m okay. I was sent to a psychologist but couldn’t say a thing, because that would betray you and everything you had done for my freedom. Everyone was worried and…it was eating me alive. I felt like Hamlet. Stuck between to be or not to be. But if I have chosen eternal sleep, that would also betray you. I couldn’t betray you, Oliver. I knew you would find me one day. I hoped you would. I’m sorry.”
Part of me wanted to scream, but it was such a small one that it died in a second. I knew that what I had done would slowly kill him. But jail would kill him faster. And for someone that is so dead, he looked very much alive. For me. I moved on the couch and embraced him again.
“I’m glad the sparrow didn’t fall yet.” Everything poetic. It was who we always were. Who we always will be.
“I hoped you would be my Banquo.”