Categories > Cartoons > Delilah and Julius > White Rose
[Year - 2038]
[Age - 48]
[Julius' Point of View (no duh)]
It's been 25 years to the day that I last set foot in the Academy as an agent. The day after Delilah's funeral I left. Didn't even bother to pack my things, I just hopped into a car and drove. I drove until I was out of gas. And then I walked. Walked until the ocean was in front of me and I had nowhere else to go.
15 years ago, Scarlett managed to track me down and sent me a letter. I was living on Denman Island on the West Coast when the letter arrived. The next day I was on a plane for Halifax, heading back to the Academy. It seemed like my last two visits to my former home were destined to be full if sorrow. The last two times I was there for a funeral. Last time it was Al's.
I don't know why I'm back here now. Maybe it's because I feel guilty for leaving - I don't know why, everyone left. A month after D- I killed Smoke, Al called it quits. The world didn't need spies anymore, and it was degrading for the other agents to be stopping petty thieves committing petty crimes. Most of the agents went on to work for the FBI or SWAT. Now, most of them are buried here.
It takes me a second to realize that the footsteps I'm hearing aren't my own. How could they be?- I've stopped. Who else would be here? The place has been shut down for years. It's probably some burglar, looking to steal what was left behind. The thought makes me sick. How could someone be so heartless?
I duck into a corner and wait as the footsteps draw nearer. What will I do? Will I let my anger and sadness get the better of me - just like it did 25 years ago? I see a fancy boot come into my view. I don't even bother to think what kind of thief wears fancy boots before I'm on top of him - strangling him. All of a sudden, I smell something rancid. Something ... familiar.
"Nosey?" I gasp, standing up.
It is him! Nosey stands up too, rubbing his neck. He squints at me, confused. All of a sudden, recognition spreads across his features. "Julius?" he whispers. I nod. Next thing I know, Nosey has his arms around me in a hug. "Oh God!" he cries. "I haven't seen you in 15 years!"
He pulls away and looks me over. I cough, embarrassed. "So ... sorry about nearly killing you. How's life?"
Nosey grins - a grin that reminds me of Al. "I'm the president of Presto's Cleaning Products. They're number one in the world," he adds proudly.
I smirk. It's hard to imagine Nosey, the stink magnet of the old days, head of a cleaning company. If I recall correctly, it was Scarlett who recommended him for the job. "How is Scarlett?" The question is out of my mouth before I can think.
It might be a trick of the dim light in the darkness, but I think I see his eyes glisten. He coughs - trying to disguise a sob, perhaps. "She's, uh, she's getting ... worse. The Alzheimer's has gotten so much worse. The doctors figure she has maybe another year. She's ... she's forgotten who I am ..."
I regret asking the question. Scarlett was diagnosed with Alzheimer's about five years after Al's death, which she took pretty hard. I always figured they had a thing for each other, but didn't want to admit it. Their predicament was all too familiar to me. I look around and realize we're outside - the back of the Academy. Now, it's a cemetery.
Nosey clears his throat as we silently stride around the graves, reading the names - names of friends, or enemies. Nosey is a bit ahead of me, and stops between two identical headstones. He pats them, smiling through tears.
"Emmet and Ursula," he says quietly. "They went and got married about two years after Delilah ..." His voice trails off, and I feel a sharp pang of sorrow. "After you left."
I nod. "So I heard. What happened, again?"
Nosey shakes his head sadly. "The guy who hit 'em was a drunk. They were sitting at a red light, minding their own business when the Ford Mustang came shooting down the street. Ursula died on impact, and Emmet on the way to the hospital."
"Freak accident," I murmur, only half thinking of Emmet and Ursula.
We walk for a few more minutes before we stop in front of the tallest headstone, in the shape of a cross. I can see Nosey is doing all he can to hold back the tears. Even though it's been 15 years, I have a hard time swallowing my tears after reading the inscription.
Big Al
Loving Father, Son, Teacher
Missed by all who loved him
It's hard to think of Al as any one's son, when he was so much like a father to me. I think it was Delilah and I who Scarlett was thinking of when she chose father for the inscription. I glance at Nosey and can see he's shaking with sobs.
"Remember -" I cough, forcing myself not to cry, "Remember Al's funeral? He couldn't be like normal people and be buried in a nice suit, could he? No, Al had to be different. He was buried in his green bathrobe."
I shudder, thinking of a skeleton with Al's robe on. But my comment seems to cheer up Nosey. He laughs, and pats my back. It seems like it's just then he notices my bundle of red roses.
"Those are for ..." He doesn't need to finish.
"All our good buddies," I say. "I just noticed: lots of the headstones say 'Killed In Service' and stuff."
"Yep," Nosey nods. "Killed doin' what the loved best." I can hear his voice crack as he chokes back a sob.
I hold out a bundle of the red flowers to him. "Wanna help?"
It takes us about ten minutes to place a red rose on each grave. I saved one bundle for Al, but I'm not done. I start to walk towards to giant oak in the corner of the cemetery. Nosey follows, but I stop him.
"If you don't mind," I say gently, "I need to do this alone."
He nods understandingly, and goes back to reading the names. I take a deep breath as I approach the only grave without a rose. I look down at the words carved in a fancy, old-fashioned script into the marble.
Delilah Devonshire
1990 - 2013
Death is the veil which those who live call life: They sleep, and it is lifted.
That's my biggest regret. The tombstone should read Delilah Chevalier, but I was too scared to ask her. I'm sure she would have said yes. A single tear rolls down my cheek and hits the white stone. I sigh. I'm 48, and I'll get older, but Delilah will forever be 23. The 25 year gap will grow bigger with each passing year.
I sniff, and reach into my jacket. I pull out my last rose, one unique from all the others. It's white, symbolizing a pure heart. Delilah had one of the purest hearts in the world, but it stopped beating 25 years ago.
I lay the white rose down on her grave, and stand. I've journeyed from the West Coast to the East, for that one rose. Now it's where it should have been a long time ago, under Delilah's name.
I smile as I stand, and look up at the crescent moon, accented by the twinkling stars. Delilah would have loved this.
THE END.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I hope you all liked it! I wrote the last chapter in Social class, seeing as our group was done. =]
[Age - 48]
[Julius' Point of View (no duh)]
It's been 25 years to the day that I last set foot in the Academy as an agent. The day after Delilah's funeral I left. Didn't even bother to pack my things, I just hopped into a car and drove. I drove until I was out of gas. And then I walked. Walked until the ocean was in front of me and I had nowhere else to go.
15 years ago, Scarlett managed to track me down and sent me a letter. I was living on Denman Island on the West Coast when the letter arrived. The next day I was on a plane for Halifax, heading back to the Academy. It seemed like my last two visits to my former home were destined to be full if sorrow. The last two times I was there for a funeral. Last time it was Al's.
I don't know why I'm back here now. Maybe it's because I feel guilty for leaving - I don't know why, everyone left. A month after D- I killed Smoke, Al called it quits. The world didn't need spies anymore, and it was degrading for the other agents to be stopping petty thieves committing petty crimes. Most of the agents went on to work for the FBI or SWAT. Now, most of them are buried here.
It takes me a second to realize that the footsteps I'm hearing aren't my own. How could they be?- I've stopped. Who else would be here? The place has been shut down for years. It's probably some burglar, looking to steal what was left behind. The thought makes me sick. How could someone be so heartless?
I duck into a corner and wait as the footsteps draw nearer. What will I do? Will I let my anger and sadness get the better of me - just like it did 25 years ago? I see a fancy boot come into my view. I don't even bother to think what kind of thief wears fancy boots before I'm on top of him - strangling him. All of a sudden, I smell something rancid. Something ... familiar.
"Nosey?" I gasp, standing up.
It is him! Nosey stands up too, rubbing his neck. He squints at me, confused. All of a sudden, recognition spreads across his features. "Julius?" he whispers. I nod. Next thing I know, Nosey has his arms around me in a hug. "Oh God!" he cries. "I haven't seen you in 15 years!"
He pulls away and looks me over. I cough, embarrassed. "So ... sorry about nearly killing you. How's life?"
Nosey grins - a grin that reminds me of Al. "I'm the president of Presto's Cleaning Products. They're number one in the world," he adds proudly.
I smirk. It's hard to imagine Nosey, the stink magnet of the old days, head of a cleaning company. If I recall correctly, it was Scarlett who recommended him for the job. "How is Scarlett?" The question is out of my mouth before I can think.
It might be a trick of the dim light in the darkness, but I think I see his eyes glisten. He coughs - trying to disguise a sob, perhaps. "She's, uh, she's getting ... worse. The Alzheimer's has gotten so much worse. The doctors figure she has maybe another year. She's ... she's forgotten who I am ..."
I regret asking the question. Scarlett was diagnosed with Alzheimer's about five years after Al's death, which she took pretty hard. I always figured they had a thing for each other, but didn't want to admit it. Their predicament was all too familiar to me. I look around and realize we're outside - the back of the Academy. Now, it's a cemetery.
Nosey clears his throat as we silently stride around the graves, reading the names - names of friends, or enemies. Nosey is a bit ahead of me, and stops between two identical headstones. He pats them, smiling through tears.
"Emmet and Ursula," he says quietly. "They went and got married about two years after Delilah ..." His voice trails off, and I feel a sharp pang of sorrow. "After you left."
I nod. "So I heard. What happened, again?"
Nosey shakes his head sadly. "The guy who hit 'em was a drunk. They were sitting at a red light, minding their own business when the Ford Mustang came shooting down the street. Ursula died on impact, and Emmet on the way to the hospital."
"Freak accident," I murmur, only half thinking of Emmet and Ursula.
We walk for a few more minutes before we stop in front of the tallest headstone, in the shape of a cross. I can see Nosey is doing all he can to hold back the tears. Even though it's been 15 years, I have a hard time swallowing my tears after reading the inscription.
Big Al
Loving Father, Son, Teacher
Missed by all who loved him
It's hard to think of Al as any one's son, when he was so much like a father to me. I think it was Delilah and I who Scarlett was thinking of when she chose father for the inscription. I glance at Nosey and can see he's shaking with sobs.
"Remember -" I cough, forcing myself not to cry, "Remember Al's funeral? He couldn't be like normal people and be buried in a nice suit, could he? No, Al had to be different. He was buried in his green bathrobe."
I shudder, thinking of a skeleton with Al's robe on. But my comment seems to cheer up Nosey. He laughs, and pats my back. It seems like it's just then he notices my bundle of red roses.
"Those are for ..." He doesn't need to finish.
"All our good buddies," I say. "I just noticed: lots of the headstones say 'Killed In Service' and stuff."
"Yep," Nosey nods. "Killed doin' what the loved best." I can hear his voice crack as he chokes back a sob.
I hold out a bundle of the red flowers to him. "Wanna help?"
It takes us about ten minutes to place a red rose on each grave. I saved one bundle for Al, but I'm not done. I start to walk towards to giant oak in the corner of the cemetery. Nosey follows, but I stop him.
"If you don't mind," I say gently, "I need to do this alone."
He nods understandingly, and goes back to reading the names. I take a deep breath as I approach the only grave without a rose. I look down at the words carved in a fancy, old-fashioned script into the marble.
Delilah Devonshire
1990 - 2013
Death is the veil which those who live call life: They sleep, and it is lifted.
That's my biggest regret. The tombstone should read Delilah Chevalier, but I was too scared to ask her. I'm sure she would have said yes. A single tear rolls down my cheek and hits the white stone. I sigh. I'm 48, and I'll get older, but Delilah will forever be 23. The 25 year gap will grow bigger with each passing year.
I sniff, and reach into my jacket. I pull out my last rose, one unique from all the others. It's white, symbolizing a pure heart. Delilah had one of the purest hearts in the world, but it stopped beating 25 years ago.
I lay the white rose down on her grave, and stand. I've journeyed from the West Coast to the East, for that one rose. Now it's where it should have been a long time ago, under Delilah's name.
I smile as I stand, and look up at the crescent moon, accented by the twinkling stars. Delilah would have loved this.
THE END.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I hope you all liked it! I wrote the last chapter in Social class, seeing as our group was done. =]
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