What does it mean, that he’s gone? I sometimes wonder if he had a choice, to go into the next life alone, or to wait here a little while longer, to comfort me from the immaterial realm. Am I selfish to wish that he had stayed behind? Is it so terribly selfish, after all the sacrifices I’ve made?
Isla Black Hitchens sat in silence. Her sitting room was dark, though it was now a warm and sunny afternoon, because she had drawn the blinds tightly, afraid to let the light wander into her home. Her black mourning robes draped elegantly over her drooping shoulders as she sat staring at her hands.
A delicate gold band encircled her left ring finger. The gold sparkled lifelessly, unable to shine in the oppressive dimness of the room. Her hands were young, smooth, and lily white, not at all the hands of a widow. But her eyes were tired. They glinted just like her ring “ dully, darkly, with scarcely a hint of the vivacity that used to hide just beneath the surface.
***
“It’s beautiful,” Isla said dreamily. From the driveway, she looked up at the two-story wonder that would be her new home. Everything from the neatly trimmed hedges to the newly painted window shutters was perfect.
Bob turned around and beamed at her. “Yes, it is,” he said, before he grabbed her hand and led her towards their home. They walked together up the rickety wooden stairs onto the porch, and turned around to face the quiet little street. “Won’t it be nice to raise our children here?”
Isla’s voice rang out in beautiful, musical laughter. “But Bob, dear, we do not have any children yet!”
“I know,” Bob responded thoughtfully. “But I like imagining what they’ll be like.”
“Me too,” Isla said after a moment, as she watched them run around in her dreams. Before she had returned to reality, Bob had reached down and picked her up gently, carrying her like a baby.
“I thought I ought to carry you over the threshold, love!” he explained, seeing her rather confused expression.
“Excuse me?” Isla responded, laughing. “Why?”
“It’s just something we do in our world,” Bob explained. “It’s bad luck for a new bride to trip on her way into the home, so the groom has to carry her into the house for the first time.”
“Well, I think that’s silly!” Isla said, jumping down from his arms. “I’m perfectly capable of walking by myself.” And so Isla led him into the home, walking with precision and grace and not even the slightest stumble over the threshold.
***
She had been powerful. Isla barely remembered what the feeling was like, to be in control of her destiny, and to walk so steadily on her own. Life had been different then, with Bob, and she wondered if it was ever her own strength at all that allowed her such dignity, or if her will had just been broken after all these years. She didn’t know, and couldn’t remember, and it hardly seemed important, regardless.
She twirled the ring around her finger and reminisced...
***
Isla was alone. The house had been empty since morning, and Isla thought she understood now why new wives were so eager to become new mothers. The silence could be a bit overwhelming.
She was not used to this way of life. Bob would leave the house for eight or nine hours every day, to work, and she wondered what anyone could possibly require him to do for that long. Her own father, Sheratan Black, had never worked, at least not that she had been aware. She didn’t recall him ever being absent for so long, and she didn’t recall her mother, Cassandra, ever complaining of this kind of loneliness, either. However, she had to remind herself that Cassandra could not have been entirely human, so cold was her heart. But perhaps she had never even known pain...
But it is so much better this way! Isla told herself, knitting in her armchair, with no more reason for her actions than that knitting took up time until Bob returned.
So much better...
***
Despite herself, Isla laughed. How foolish! she thought to herself. I was so young! I had no idea what I wanted! But her laugh was empty. She felt empty. How could she have doubted that a few hours a day with Bob was better than hours and hours with a family she hated?
It didn’t matter now, but she cursed herself for her stupidity. Now Bob was gone, and she finally had the chance to go back home... as if that would have made her happy. Could she never be satisfied? Would her heart always question? Was the world always so unfair, to grant us the ill-formed and never-earnest wishes of our youth?
***
The sound of crickets lulled her to and from the hazy world of dreams, dragging her back and forth between sleep and consciousness. She found herself one moment in a field of flowers, flowing and free, and the next, she lie awake in her bed, staring at the ceiling. It was hard to tell which world was which, which life was real.
She laughed, running through the knee-high grass, and spread her arms out wide to catch the sun’s warming rays. She felt invigorated, as life itself coursed through her veins with growing power. She laughed, and tears fell from her eyes, though she wasn’t sad. She had never felt this happy before. She had never felt this content.
Behind her, somewhere in the thick, dark forest, a loud crash distracted her, ripping her from a moment of ecstasy. It might have been a tree falling, maybe a huge and ferocious creature, but she couldn’t be certain. She couldn’t see anything in the deep darkness between the trees, the darkness that kept creeping out towards her, approaching her, enveloping her...
There was another crash, and Isla found herself once again staring at the ceiling. For a moment, she could not remember whether the loud noise had been in her dream, or... But there was another thud from downstairs, and, turning quickly to her new husband, she found that he was not there.
Her heart began pounding so loudly that she could no longer think. She felt dizzy “ all her blood had rushed from her head, and she could no longer think. What happened? she panicked. Where is he?!
Uneasily, she sprung out of her bed and suddenly felt very afraid. The loud crashes had stopped, but she heard feet scuffling around on the hard wood floors downstairs. It sounded like there were two pairs...
She timidly walked to the bedroom door, and edged her way towards the second-story balcony. She wanted desperately to know what was happening without having to watch. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to know this kind of fear.
Slowly, she leaned her head over the balcony, but did not see anyone at first. Looking a little further, she saw a pair of legs sprawled on the floor, the rest of the body hidden from her view “ she could not reach that far over the balcony without falling. She noticed with sickening dread that the motionless feet were wearing no shoes...
The other pairs of feet still shuffled about, and now she heard indistinct whispers. She began breathing harder and tried desperately to calm herself. Trying to think logically, she asked herself what on earth she should do. These things didn’t happen to good people, not to respectable members of society, Muggle or magic. That had always been her comfort, the illusion that she was safe because her father intimidated. Her father...
She would contact her father! But how? she asked herself glumly. Living in the Muggle world now, Isla had not bothered to bring her owl, not bothered to bring the Floo powder. In all honesty, she had never wanted to see those cursed reminders of magical life again, but... Now what?
She leaned back over the balcony, and to her great shock, she saw... someone there... She could no longer breathe, no longer move. She watched intently, praying that she would not be seen, when “ He turned around.
Phineas Nigellus Black. Her brother. Isla stared at him in confusion, but after a moment’s indifferent gaze, Phineas mumbled something in her direction, then turned around and walked into the other room. After a brief whispered conversation, she heard two loud cracks, and then the house fell silent.
Forgetting everything, Isla ran down the stairs. She didn’t understand. Nothing made any sense. She just kept placing one foot before the other, rushing determinedly down the stairs, and when she reached the bottom, she looked out into the open room.
There were the legs, the shoeless feet, the motionless body that... It looked something like her husband.
It was dead.
***
Isla didn’t cry anymore. When it had happened, she had thought she would never stop, but people she barely knew kept telling her that the tears would end soon, and that she would come to terms with what happened, horrible though it may be. She wondered now what kind of consolation that was supposed to have been. Ever since she had stopped crying, she started remembering, started thinking. The crying had stopped, but the nightmares had just begun. What consolation it was, what comfort, to know every day that she hadn’t loved Bob as much as she should have. Perhaps it wouldn’t have changed his destiny, but she felt certain it would have soothed her heart. It would have made the whole world easier to bear, if she could only quit seeing herself as her own antagonist.
***
Isla timidly mounted the stairs of her old family home. It had only been a week since... the accident. She didn’t want to come here “ she had never wanted to return “ but her mother was so insistent, and she felt weakened by all that had happened.
She opened the door on her own “ she was family; why should she knock? “ and walked in to see Phineas, sullen and bored as he sat at the small round table in the corner. She stood up a little straighter when she saw him, and her heart began pounding again. He had been there... Phineas had been there when he died...
“Hello, dear!” her mother Cassandra effusively declared as she entered from a back room in the house. “How lovely to see you here again.”
Confused, Isla kept returning her gaze to her brother in the corner. She tried to make sense of it, but thought had not come... easily... in a while. How long had it been?
“Dear?” her mother questioned. “You’re not looking well. Please sit down; let me get you something to drink.” Her mother led her to a gaudy sofa and Isla’s brow was still scrunched in careful thought. Why couldn’t she remember?
“Isla?” Cassandra repeated. “Oh, never mind,” she remarked to herself as she turned from the room.
“You,” Isla began uneasily, pointing at her brother. “You were there when Bob died.”
Phineas raised his head to acknowledge her, but he hardly looked concerned. Cassandra’s light footfalls stopped mid-step, and she whipped her head around at this absurd accusation. “What did you say?” she accosted.
“Phineas was there,” Isla repeated simply. “I saw him from the staircase.”
Cassandra turned with wrath upon her eldest son. “And what about the memory charm, Phineas? You told me you’d performed it on her!”
“Mother,” Phineas cautioned, rising from the table with a look of warning in his eyes.
Cassandra continued to accuse her son of ruining their plan, and Isla... her mind was swimming. Could her own family have done it?
“No,” she whispered.
Phineas and her mother stopped arguing at once. They turned their heads to face her, as if they had forgotten in a moment that she had been there.
“No,” Isla proclaimed louder, more forcefully. She shook her head with violent strength and shouted as she collapsed once more into tears.
“NO!”
***
A memory charm.
She laughed to herself, a forced, pathetic laugh. Suddenly feeling very nervous and tense, Isla stood up and paced about the room. She felt confined. She threw open the curtains for the first time in months, and the light from the setting sun nearly blinded her, but she couldn’t get enough of it. It had been so long...
Isla walked hurriedly to the front door and threw it open. She crept out into the fading light; it seemed a foreign world. She hugged herself tightly.
What if I had loved him better? she asked herself without pity.
Isla walked a little faster.
What if I had stood up to my parents, and not just run away from them like a coward? Would they have tried so hard to get me back?
She shivered and skipped, and her heart racing faster than her feet could move.
Should I have dragged Bob into this at all? her inner voice questioned. Was I horribly selfish?
Am I a bad person?
Isla rung her hands with crippling force. She was shaking.
Do I even deserve this life?
With a tiny clang, the little gold band slipped from Isla’s finger and bounced into the street. She watched it roll away for a very brief moment, but when she realized what had happened, she dove onto her hands and knees and crawled after it. The neighborhood children had stopped to watch.
“Come back!” Isla called out to no avail. She reached out with one hand to grab the ring, but it would not stop rolling. With a tiny farewell glisten off the last rays of the sun, it rolled into the gutter, and down into the recesses of the storm drain.
Isla stared blankly at the sewer grate. There was her answer. The last memory had been stripped away.