Can't Say Goodbye to Yesterday
Lawrence was back on Chizan. He was given the most he could ever hoped, about a month of leave. Lawrence For most of it, he locked himself in the villa he rented out, not far from his childhood memories with Victoria. It was a walk away from where he and Victoria would spend their evergreen golden summers at, sitting on the slopped riverbank, chatting until young Dawn grew tired, and the moon came out to paint the landscape a cool blue hue.
He dabbled in various hobbies, from painting miniature model kits of Shinra and Tacoma models to making an attempt at a first draft at a historical nonfiction, but within days and weeks, he couldn’t bring himself to finish any of the projects. He would eye the oak cabinet locked under key (ostensibly from himself), but he never dared open it. He was fully intended on staying silver, the moment he opened it and poured himself a drink, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from utter ruin.
In the end, the month went by in a flash. Lawrence wasn’t sure if he was better off with or without military leave, but at least he got away from Fasnakyle.
The month was drawing to a close, he was going to have to take a shuttle back to the capital for his next assignment. But for the time being, Lawrence found himself more and more, sitting on that all too familiar riverbank. The vista of the calm, flowing lake was like medicine for him. He found himself soon enough in a routine, walking with his hands shoved in pockets as he would retrace the steps he would take with Victoria back in their school days, from the long-closed down school, down the zig-zagging cobble roads, through the bazaars and plazas he would hang out with Friederika and Victoria. His journey always lead him to the same place, stuck in time as it always was. Society moved on, but this ground was something sacred, eternal in its simple place as a mere riverbank with its evergreen bedding, it was no different anywhere else along the sloped grassy elevation, but for him it was home.
And Lawrence would plop himself down and stare out at the glistening flowing river, the cicadas buzzing, joyous youngsters going about their everyday life, the occasional conventional car bumbling behind him or a moped whizzing by, he would enjoy this peaceful life until young Dawn retired from the realm of mortals to gain her beauty sleep. Moonlight gave a luminescent glow to the grassy, sloped riverbank and Lawrence.
He would always be there with Victoria, and occasionally with Friederika. This spot, this very spot, something eternal and endearing. But now the two of them were gone, and arguably, Lawrence’s innocence too.
But now, presently, he would sit them, by his lonesome. Only fleeting memories with Friederika and Victoria now.
But one day the forecast lied. The weather snowed gracefully at first, but then it became a blizzard. Lawrence was forced to stay inside his villa.
Lawrence, had refrained from indulging in any use of alcohol or substance abuse. Until one such breezy blizzard-induced night, being the Fool he was, Lawrence broke for good. He drank more than he should’ve. One such night, after he thought he’d swear off drinking after Victoria’s demise, he sacked into his alcohol cabinet. The bottles piled up, until eventually, Lawrence started seeing the the fluttering of skirts in doorways, laughter he knew for sure he heard. He sprang from his armchair for the dark hallway. Of course, there was nothing there, but he pressed on, out to the kitchen and the living room. His double-vision and heavily-laden head tricked him into seeing the tips of a skirt whipped out of view by the backdoor. Lawrence found himself out in the freezing cold, along the frozen lake he, Friederika, and Victoria used to lounge after their school days, before the days of the Imperium invasion. Before Victoria jumped to her feet and declared to the two of them: “I’m going to enlist.”
He chased after her, and for miles he could see nothing but the frozen river. And before long, he realized he was trapped in this dangerous venture. His world spun out of control and he found himself submerged in darkness.
He stirred awake, deep breathes; he wasn’t drowning. In fact, he was completely dry. He was no longer submerged in a icy black canvas, in fact, he was in a hardy chair, and when he looked around—it was nothing but a calm green meadow paralleling the bright blue sky.
Lawrence looked straight across from him; a jet-black, fancy table. Ahead of him, a pretty, blonde older lady.
“Well, well...” she said, “now you’ve done it now, love.” She looked disapprovingly at him. One hand propped her chin up. The other was twirling the rim of her teacup.
“Am I dead?” Lawrence’s shrill voice asked. He looked down to see little pudgy hands and feet that dangled childishly on the chair. His world view completely shrunk, he was chilled, shocked to the bone.
She shook her head. She sipped eloquently from the high-quality porcelain.
The curious Lawrence looked around his suddenly massive world. Then he looked at his teacup. It reeked of coffee. “I don’t like coffee,” he said ever so shrilly.
“Oh, Lawry,” the elegant lady said. ”I even went through the pains of making it for you.”
“I’m sorry,” Lawrence suddenly said. He hopped off his big chair and ran around the table. She was surprised, to say the least. He hopped and buried his face in her fancy, black dress. “I’m sorry...” He clutched her skirt, his head dug in their lap. “I’m . . . I’m sorry.”
He felt her heavenly presence pat his head. “There, there,” she said. “There there.” It felt like she patted a bigger swath of hair, he felt older, bigger. He cried like he never cried before, he discharged all the tears he could ever have until there was nothing left for a mere mortal like him. Splashes of tears sprinkled his head. “I couldn’t protect you at Zeta, I couldn’t steer into another hallway and keep you from fighting Churchill . . . I was so harsh on Frank... and Luke, shifting blames, and yet . . . I couldn’t make the sacrifice, even if it meant saving you and Kiki,” Lawrence choke, but continued one last time, “I’m . . . I’m, sorry, Vicky . . .”
He felt her pat his head, stroking him like a little pet dog, a mother trying to reassure her problematic son. “There, there,” she said, over and over again. “It couldn’t be helped, Churchill and I were bound to confront each-other one way or another.”
“Come back to me, Victoria,” Lawrence said. She continued brushing his hair. “Even if you have to defy reality, please... I need you back, I need you, Vick.”
“Lawry, listen to me,” it was Friederika’s voice now. “You have to fight on, you have to survive.”
“Live, captain,” it was Luke. “Live on for our sakes. It’s the most you can do now, yeah?”
“Luke,” Lawrence gasped. “Please forgive me... I’m so sorry, Luke.”
“No use crying over spilled milk, yeah?” Luke said. He laughed. “I sure went out with a bang, didn’t I? Yippee ki yay... I’d done it again, given the chance.” Lawrence couldn’t see him, his face still planted in Victoria’s lap. There was no more tears in his reservoir.
“It’s not your time yet, love,” Friederika said. “It’s too early for that, your role in this is far from over.”
Reduced to a child again, Lawrence shook his head, his face soaked in her lap. “I can’t do it,” Lawrence said. “I don’t want to fight anymore.”
“The choice is yours, Lawry,” Victoria said. She got up and picked Lawrence up. She walked with him under her arm towards a brown door in the middle of the meadow. Lawrence kicked his feet. “Live and bring an end to this war, or live out your days peacefully... either way is fine with me. I want you to survive, Lawry—that’s all that matters in the end.”
“No! I don’t want to go back,” Lawrence wailed, snot hanging from his nose. “I don’t want to go back there, let me stay here with you three! Just like we’ve always done...”
Victoria didn’t answer him. Friederika and Luke flanked the door. Luke with his arms crossed, being a tough guy as always even in death. Friederika opened the door for Victoria. It was a pure abyss.
“Lawry,” Victora said. Lawrence stopped throwing a fuss. “Make up with Frank... you two need to heal, put an end to this chapter.”
“I don’t,” Lawrence struggled to clear his throat. “I don’t know if I can do that, Vic...”
She reached to wipe his nose with a handkerchief, he didn’t resist. “You will,” Victoria said. “You have to, you need to save him so he can save others. That’s all I want from you two—and move on from me, from us.”
Lawrence clenched his teeth. He couldn’t bring himself to say goodbye to yesterday. He shut tight his eyes as Victoria shifted him around in her arms. One arm on his back collar, the other on his rear.
“We’ll always be watching over you, Lawry... we can see time itself, beyond the time now. . . In you go, now!”
“No!” Lawrence shrieked.
“Heave... ho!” Victoria grunted. Priming him for the throw, like a battering ram. “Heave. . . ho!” Lawrence was thrown and plunged, consumed into the endless abyss. Luke slammed the door shut with a kick.
“So long, captain,” the echoes of Luke’s filled the void, the emotions strong in his voice.
Luke, tearfully, turned to walk away. Friederika nodded, she shed a tear and walked away too.