The Last Ferry Ride

#shortstories is an ongoing series of articles recounting some of our interesting real life experiences.

A ferry is never silent. At any point of time, there will be the shuffling of footsteps, the exchange of chatter, the sudden screaming of children enjoying the cold sea breeze. Even in the absence of all these, there would still be the monotone chime of the monstrous ship engines, chugging, turning, toiling, bringing the vessel from one jetty to another. That evening, however, all this noise was dead to me.

Slowly, reluctantly, I opened my eyes.

She stood against the front railing. Not a single word was uttered as she stared far ahead into the orange horizon, which was slowly dissolving into a blanket of turquoise and royal blue. My arms, which were wrapped around her waist, gently pulled her just a tiny bit closer, burying my face in the sweet, calming fragrance of her hair.

I could not see her face, but I was sure beyond doubt her eyes were closed like mine were earlier. We continued standing motionless in our own sea of calm, distant and detached from the world around us. I took the time to think, of the days gone by and the days to come. My heart sank at the reminder that our little window of time was beginning to close, and the forces of fate would soon begin to drag us apart.

The jetty was now in sight, and the ferry inched towards it. Every meter of distance closed was another bit of our time ripped away from us. Metal creaked and clanged against metal as the two surfaces united, and after a bare few minutes the front gate was unlocked, and the crowd that had already gathered in front marched off the ship onto the platform. We both trudged forward reluctantly, hand in hand, across the platform, down the elevator, and finally out of the station.

This is where we would part.

Suddenly, she turned around. "Wait," she said, fumbling with her bag. "I want you to have this." In her hands was a battered pack of Monopoly Deal, which she pressed into mine. I stared at it, agape. For many weeks we had played with them, spending the long, unproductive hours after exams on them. Sometimes with friends, sometimes random classmates, schoolmates, but always together. I tried to refuse: "No, I can't - "

"Take them," she repeated, determined, her eyes locked with mine. "Please. I want you to have them." It went on for a short while, but I finally gave in and accepted. How could I deny her, now of all times?

She stepped in closer, and we hugged each other for the longest time we could remember. "Promise me you won't forget me," she whispered between tears. "I won't," I managed to answer.

I do not remember what our final words were, were they a simple goodbye or something else. But we said them, and I watched her turn her back for the last time, walking away into the night. Away from me.