martes, 18 de diciembre de 2018

Eveline is Eveline (Ending to James Joyce's "Eveline")



Paula Fernández Lombardero


She stood there, clutching the iron railing tightly, watching how her chance to star a new life moved away aboard the boat. Maybe it was meant to be like this. She, staying at the docks and going back home to live with her father. Sitting at her window, watching time go by, getting old, being the same girl, as always…

She took her suitcase, after having a fleeting glance at the boat, which now resembled a formless figure because of the distance it was taking from Dublin.

What was she doing? A picture of her mother flooded her thoughts. Would she have wanted her daughter to live like this? Would she have wanted her little girl to live without a chance to decide what she wants?

Eveline shook her head lightly, lowering her eyes to her shoes. It wasn’t time to think about that. She firmly fastened her suitcase and took the way back home. With her father, who would surely be drowned in alcohol, with the memory of her mother… Back to her monotonous life. The way back home was long, even more if so it you went on foot. For her, to cross the city of Dublin was like walking a new place. The city itself made her think of others, how wonderful it would be to live far from home, far from her life tied to the memory of her deceased mother and her abusive father. Far from mistreatment. Far from…

And there it was.

She stood paralyzed in front of the shop window of seams. What if… No. It was crazy. She deflected her gaze back toward the city docks, looked beyond it, and observed the sea, the horizon, the sun slowly falling to, later, meet the water… And once again, she looked at the shop window. More specifically, at the curtains.

“There you are.”

It all became meaningful for her at that moment. She just needed to see a couple of curtains to find out what she wanted. She looked at the clock that stood in the tower of the town hall and without delay, entered the shop. The owner of the store, an elderly lady, received her with a warm smile, which increased Eveline’s security. They started talking about the different styles of curtains and of the fabrics. Eveline focused her gaze on a pair of curtains. She knew that those were the ones. The design was simple, a pink background and a pattern of white camellias. The lady kindly explained to her that the camellias meant “love” and the white camellias “pure love”. She thought of her mother and her father who, in spite of all the abuse she got from him, must surely love her. After all, he was her father.

She bought the curtains and left the shop to resume the way home. The last one. As soon as she arrived she left the curtains, which were wrapped, in front of the door. She bent down to be able to open her suitcase and draw from it a pen and paper. In it, she wrote everything she wanted to say to her father, both good and bad things. In that paper was reflected Eveline’s desire for her father to live happily, at least as happy as he could. But above all, the yearning for a new life was reflected in it.

When she had finished writing those words, which became a tough challenge for her, she got up and, with the letter in her hands, stared at the door of her house calmly. She hesitated several times before knocking on the door. She though writing that letter had been a challenge, but she was wrong, the real challenge was a few feet away... In an act of courage, she picked up the curtains from the floor and tightened them with her arms. She passed the letter under the door and knocked at the door; then she picked up her suitcase and hurried to hide. A few minutes later her father opened the door and stood on the threshold looking in all directions until he looked down at the floor and saw the letter. As soon as he saw her name, “Eveline”, in the letter he knew what it was about. She saw a small smile on his face and again, he went back into the house. Now she does.

She is free.


17th December 2018

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