Book Project Option: Epilogue

Katie Hines

10/22/12

Block 4

Book Project Option # 4

Epilogue:

(This novel is written in many different character’s views, therefore I will do each that was written.)

Charlotte:

                It’s been one year that you’ve been gone. When I wake up in the morning, I still expect to hear you calling out for pancakes. I still anxiously wait a phone call in case you’d had a fall at school. I still remember every trivia fact you’d ever told me, like how “a scallop has thirty five eyes, all blue” and how the plastic things on shoe laces are called aglets. But most of all, when I go to sleep, I still see your electric blue eyes, almond shaped and beautiful.

                We finally opened up a little bakery called Syllabub, like the baking sale Amelia and I had with you. We make the delicious cookies and cakes and pies, decorating them with soft green icing that outlines the goodies like branches on a weeping Willow. We even got recognition in the newspaper; “The best slice of cake I’ve ever tasted,” was written by an admiring journalist. Amelia thinks we are officially famous.

                I want you to know something, Willow. I completely regret it, the lawsuit. I take back every lie I uttered in that court room, every stupid word I said. I was trying to protect you, but I realized all I did was hurt you. We needed the money for your medical bills that kept adding, but you needed our love more. I am so sorry. Suing for wrongful birth? You were no mistake, no accident. You were not the diseased child that a family had to deal with; you were the best thing that ever happened to us.

Amelia:

                Do you remember when I dyed my hair dark blue? I know, instead of looking punk, I looked like the cookie monster. You used to ask questions all the time, but you never asked me why I dyed my hair. I did it for you; you’re not the only different one.

                You, and your ocean blue eyes. You, and the tiny wobble in your step. You, and your brilliant remarks that belonged in a decathlon. You, you, you. I love you. I miss you, so much.

                Now, hair brown again and scars healed, you’d barely recognize me. I smile, all the time. My hands have small calluses from mixing all sorts of cake batter at the bakery. Mom and I rarely participate in the vicious battle of words that used to occur on a daily basis. I have friends, real friends. They get me; they accept me, just as I am. Emma and I never repaired our broken friendship, but she no longer tapes “kick me” signs on my back or tries to trip me in the halls. In fact, sometimes she smiles at me.

                I’ve been painting a lot lately. I was painting the Birch trees in the forest that day, the day you left. They are thin as a rail and sway with the wind, but the trees are strong, beautiful. Like you.

                I put up some paintings in an art show. I proudly hung them on white wash walls, my heart pounding each time a curious onlooker paused to study my art work. My painting of the frozen pond outside was sold for fifteen dollars. I know, not much, but it’s a start. I wanted to rid myself of it anyway. But the painting I took most pride ( and not offering up for sale) was one of you. It held your pretty face and gleaming smile, full of joy and strength. It won. You won, Willow.

Sean:

                Not too much has changed, Wills. We still reside in that cute little white cottage in front of an icy pond and miles of evergreens. I am still a cop, I still can’t cook to save my life, and I still leave little notes for your mother before she wakes up. But everything has changed. Our angel is gone.

                Your mother spends her days cooking and baking in her little bakery, and often times Amelia joins her. Her eyes used to shine and could light a room on fire, but now, all one sees is pain, sorrow, and emptiness.

                 We finally got a dog, and I’m sorry we didn’t get one sooner. Her name is Lily, and she is a rescue from the pound. She hobbles on only three legs, injuries resulting from being hit by a car, but she is the happiest, smartest pup I’ve ever met. Lily learns tricks right off the bat, always greets us with a sloppy kiss and wagging tail, and hardly ever jumps on the counter to grab food...hardly. Whenever we say your name, she perks up her ears and listens, as if searching for this missing person. Her missing person.

                 I still can’t believe that when I come home from a tough day at work, you won’t be there to make me smile by cracking a few corny (but witty) jokes. I still expect the TV to have a zillion SpongeBob episodes recorded. I still wish you could come back to us. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss your smile, your laugh.

                Don’t worry about us down here, Wills. We’ll be fine. But every once in a while, could you send down a ray of your light to mom? Every day I have to drag her out of bed, every day I hear her cries muffled by a pillow, I miss you even more.