The Suicide Way-house (or, “Going On!”) “You can’t go back, no way, therefore you must go on, go on with pathetic eagerness, if you must, if that’s what it takes! But go on you must…” said Old Miss Wayfarer, giving the young woman a helpless look, a forever look on her face.
“I want to go back,” she said. “I left my little girl in the car all alone.”
Annabelle Hague had seemingly stumbled upon the wayside motel (the sign read although ‘Way-house’), how she came upon it, she didn’t know, and Old Miss Wayfarer boldly and frankly said, “Mercy, suicides can’t go back, you all seem to travel alone, and your little girl will be taken care of, don’t worry about her, she’ll be fine, they always are. They all want to go back when they get here. They’re all waiting to go back, how insane. So many of you folks stop here on your way, and I tell them like I’m telling you, you can’t go back, you can only go on, although sometimes the other ones commit suicide, to catch up with their loved ones, like you but that’s far and in-between, in all the time I’ve been here I’ve only seen a few like that. That’s the plain truth in a nutshell.”
Annabelle thought for a moment about what the old proprietress had said, “I can wait,” she told the old woman—“yes, that’s it, my daughter will catch up with me. I know she’ll want to join me, and when she comes she’ll have to know where I am, and if I go on, I’ll miss her, this is the first motel I’ve seen on the road. She’s just like me.”
“But you can see over by the hearth in the other room Mrs. Annabelle, I have a full house, please don’t ask to stay here and wait, just go on, that’s better for everybody.”
Annabelle had been looking over at the dozen or so guests, or perhaps by now they were residents, pacing to and fro from the hearth to the windows, looking into and out of the windows perhaps for their loved ones—their faces to appear, a glimpse into the future or beyond, and in the red hot flames of the fire—they looked. All having long hair, haggard looking, as if they’d been there for years. Annabelle had had a forlorn look on her face for a moment—when she had first arrive that is, but an all new expression had filled it now, hope!
“There, there now!” cried one of the voices by the hearth, she had looked into the fire, and thought she had seen a loved one.
“Perhaps now and then,” said the old lady, “they think they see a loved one, so they stick around the fire, or look out the windows, but I doubt they really do, but they all think they do, and they are afraid if they go on, they’ll never see them again. The seasons never change around here much, it’s seems always windy and cold.”
Truth or fiction, it didn’t matter to Annabelle what the old woman was saying, if there was hope, then that was better than nothing. Annabelle had formed a new composure, a new outlook, the old woman noticed, likened to all the others when they first heard someone say they saw some loved one from the past.
“Well,” said Annabelle, “it’s settled, I’m staying. If only for a little while, then I’ll go on, as you say I should, if you don’t mind.”
The old lady nodded her head ‘yes,’ knowing if she didn’t she’d be pestering her for eternity, although she was not please one bit, but once hope got a hold of the passerby’s, and they got to missing their loved ones, and regretted what they had done, there was no way of convincing them to go on, to go forward, they were in-between, and that is where most wanted to remain.
“Is there anything you’d like, Miss Annabelle?” she asked.
“Nah!” she said, as she hurriedly went to join the group pacing about the fireplace. No 707/ (11-01-2010)
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