Finding Isabelle

Chapter Four

Its bang on 00.00 a.m and I'm walking in a dead straight line across a pebbled pathway within a large area covered in lush green grass. Big oak trees are scattered across the grass and several wooden benches are too. The edges of the pathway are brimmed with colourful flowers; all the prettiness was hard to see in the middle of the night, though. Isabelle hadn't pinpointed a specific area to meet in, she only said OakBridge park; so i guess she knows i will see her if i keep walking.

I probably look pretty dodgy wandering around an empty park wearing that black hoodie i pulled on before leaving tonight. I have my two hands stuffed in my jean pockets and my head is slightly tilted down as i watch my feet tread rather slowly - there is nothing much else to look at. But, finally, after about ten straight minutes of walking i hear her speak:
"Mister Gallagher, is that you?" She asks from a short distance. I look around, then spotting her sat on one of the benches beside the path a little in front of me. She stands up and walks over to me steadily.
"Yes, it is." I reply, "why so late?"
"Its quieter, and i feel more free."
"Oh, oh right, okay."
"Plus what I'm about to tell you is top secret. You hear me?"
"Right, top secret." I know I'm not going to spread it. If i was told to do something by Isabelle Waters, I do what she tells me to...
"So, Isaac, how did you like the books? I mean if you've read both of them?"
"I read romeo and juliet. I read the first half of The Twelfth Night tonight." I smile.
"Right."
"I love it so far, by the way. Its very-"
"Its very beautiful, smart, inspiring." She interrupts me.
"I know."
"Yes," she begins, "how many more shakespearian novels could you manage to read, Isaac?"
"As many as you wanted me to, isabelle."
"I like your name. Sorry, i use it so much... isaac." She laughs and spins around all of a sudden, her hair dancing upwards in the late night breeze. I say ditto and then there's a short silence...
Until she says, "have you ever wanted to just dissapear?"
"Yes, all the time."
"Then why dont you, silly?"
"Because... Because i cant, i guess."
"Yes you can. You can do anything," while she talks, she pulls out a folded piece of paper from the pocket of the denim shorts she wears, "thats what i want to believe." She unfolds the paper and walks over to a bench, gesturing me to follow her. We both sit. "Here." She says.
"What's this?" I ask.
"I think its what you call a bucket list. Take a look."
The paper is slightly larger than A4 (she had obviously cut an A3 sheet a bit smaller down to the uneven edge). there are three aisles on the paper, drawn jaggedly by pencil, when you turn it portrait. Down the three aisles, many short sentences or single words are written with little checkboxes beside them; about a quarter of them are ticked - some are very simple.
"A literal bucket list." I add.
"Yeah, i like to take things a step further." She grins and admires the look of the 'literal bucket list'.
I scan down each aisle and as I'm halfway down the second, I notice the words 'have sex' written - the box is ticked. She looks at me with a puzzled expression - "what? Its just human." She says with a small chuckle.
"Exactly. Why did you out it on here?"
"Well, you see, i dont want to die a virgin and i dont want to forget to have sex. Ill look at this for inspiration you know," she shuffles a bit closer to me, "what else do you find interesting on the list?" She asks.
"Um," I run my finger down the aisles, examining each and every word. Several take to my interest:

Finish every Shakespeare novel

Fall in love

Eat double calories for a week

Be lost, get found

"Be lost, get found," i begin, "you said you wanted to dissapear."
"I never said that. I just asked you if you wanted to." H
"But you do want to, dont you?" I ask and there is a silence - not an awkward one.
"Yes."
"You want to be found."
"I want to be found by someone interesting. I want to be found by someone who would take pleasure in the adventure of following my footsteps and get lost with me." She turns her head to look at me swiftly with hardly any expression upon her natural, beautiful face.
"Woah." I say.
"I want to pack a single rucksack with just a toothbrush, a blanket and a little money and just drive and drive until I find somewhere beautiful enough I can admire the view for days. You know, some beauty never ends. You could stare at something for hours, days, even weeks without it coming to bore you at all." She sighs lightly. I wonder whether she is purposely describing herself or not... "And I want to stay in that one wonderful place until someone figures out where I sit after following the breadcrumbs I leave for them."
"You do?" I just want her to keep telling me. Her voice is immaculately beautiful.
"Yes. But, you know, maybe one perfect view isn't enough. Maybe I could travel and admire thousands of singular beautiful places. Then afterwards, I could finally tick the box. I got lost, i got found - it would be like a storyline in a wonderful novel. A shakespeare novel."

In that moment, I realise this simple thing.
What if we were a shakespeare novel? She would be the fascinating, gripping main plot. And me? i would be the unimportant sub plot that is forgotten by the end of the story.

"You could travel. But one simple view can be enough. One single view is enough for me," i say... "You're my view."