Closure to James Joyce's "Eveline"

Ana Gutiérrez Sánchez

 

Eveline stood there, frozen, waiting; hands cramping from her firm grasp on the railing. What to do? In a second, life came back to her, eyes wild with realization. Leave! She had to leave; she had to break her mother’s promise to keep home, her home, from falling apart. How could she stay, knowing the outcome of such a decision? Knowing like she knew the result of a still life, like the one her mother had led and had made her lead for almost two decades; knowing like she knew that she would eventually go insane, drowned in the grey atmosphere of a dusty room.

“Evvy! Hurry!”

Eveline clutched the locket around her neck, which now held a yellowing photograph of its previous owner, Eveline’s mother. Looking at the picture she could see disappointed eyes and pursed lips of disapproval in a face that, she remembered, had once held the beauty of youth and innocence. Much to her chagrin, Eveline knew she had gone from childish features directly to the tiredness of a much older woman, completely skipping the youthful glow that she so craved.

And she would have it; she would reverse time and breach the surface of the ocean drowning her, she would dust herself off and keep Frank from becoming her father, keep herself from becoming her mother. She would be reborn on her own terms. She would go. She would just go.

Eveline breathed, basking in the feeling of salty air in her lungs, devoid of the dust she had grown so accustomed to. She breathed in the metal of the ships, the sounds filling the air around her, people’s voices carrying in the wind; Frank’s still calling for her.

“Eveline, come!”

She finally moved. Step by step, one foot after the other. Off the docks, through the gangplank and onto the deck. The gentle sway of the waves caught her off guard for a split moment, and she held on to the deck railing to keep from stumbling.

Frank came up behind her, placing a hand on her waist to help her regain her balance.

“Finally! Are you okay?”

Eveline had not thought she would cry when she left, but now she felt tears pricking her eyes, overwhelmed by this newfound hope.

“Never better”, she smiled.

The ship spurred into movement and, sooner than she would have thought, they were in open sea. She stood there, beside Frank, watching the ship’s wake disrupting the pattern of the waves. They were finally leaving. She was leaving.

She had left.

9th January, 2017