Tʜᴇ Isʟᴀɴᴅ Iɴ Bᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ

Hᴏᴛʟɪɴᴇ Cᴀʟʟɪɴɢ

Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 16

You tore open the envelope with shaking hands. Your apprehension undeniable.

You had waited so long for this letter, this small rectangular paper that seemed so insignificant on its surface. But held your future within it.

You pulled the letter out slowly— painstakingly. Your heart roaring in your chest, eyes wide and expectant. Blood rushing through every inch of your body, as if it was trying its hardest to calm the storm brewing in your chest.

You read the words cautiously.

Skimming over the technical words— the thank yous for applying and whatnot. And looked for the treasured words of, 'You're hired!'

"Well, what does it say? Stop edging me, did you get the fucking job or not?" Your best friend bellowed from his place on the bed— tucked neatly under the white covers, his arms folded.

"Would you shut up for two seconds, I'm reading." You mumbled, gripping the sheet harder as you pulled it closer to you. The longer you stared, the more you found it harder to read— as if the dread of being denied was blurring your eyes. Blocking you from seeing anything, from reading what you desperately needed to hear.

He grumbled, copying your words in a high-pitched mocking tone, flapping his fingers in a fake mouth. You rolled your eyes, and probed further.

Then you saw it— right at the bottom of the page, buried under all the irrelevant words above it.

'We're more than happy to welcome you to Ivymallow as our new, round-the-clock, lighthouse keeper!'

You couldn't believe it. After searching so long for a job, reviewing all your options in life over and over and over again— searching in vain for something that could release you from the entrenched rat race of an average life.

You finally found it.

You threw your arms up and jumped with joy— hopping up to embrace your friend in an open-arm hug that you still felt even to this day— when you missed that moment in time.

"Hell yeah (𝚈/𝙽)! I'm so proud of you!" He laughed as you almost sobbed into his chest, your joy choking you in that moment. Your excitement contagious and uncontainable.

"You'll visit me when I get settled in, won't you?" You had asked him then, hopeful in the moment.

You were so caught up in your exhilaration you didn't want it to end. You didn't want to think you would have no one to share it with. He was right there— he watched you open the letter of acceptance and saw how happy it made you.

"I promise."

He had said.

Lying in his hospital bed.

You never imagined you would have to say goodbye before you even moved away. He would never get the chance to come visit you.

Your life had just begun, but his, as it seemed, was ready to end.

You left him behind.

The letter snug in your pocket— an umbrella above your head as you listened to the priest's eulogy in the rain. You refused to look at his gravestone that day. Concentrating instead on the feeling of the paper boat tickets in your other pocket. Holding onto them for some kind of comfort.

You left the next day, it seemed cruel to leave him behind like that, but in the moment that's all you wanted to do. To run from it all. The loss you felt was monumental— you felt nothing at all when you finally arrived and saw where you were going to live.