The Lilacs Fade
He hid behind the yew, and looked up. The flowers were half brown, fading. The ground was covered with little flowerets, like pale purple snow.
His heart leaped at the same time his stomach sank.
His heart leaped for Lilac; to go home to Lilac, to look into her sweet, dark eyes again, to savor her company again, to bring her flowers again, to rest knowing that she was a few tunnels away under the same hill.
His stomach sank for the farewells; farewell to Janiece, James, Josh. Anne. Derek. Mrs. Chattam.
And Jake.
He pulled out his pocketknife, and reached carefully up into the shrub, cut a fading blossom, and carried it inside the house, and downstairs.
Jake was studying, trying to catch up on one of his incompletes, with papers and books spread across his bed. Bolco came in wordlessly, and sat down on his couch, watching Jake. Concern spread on Jake's face. "What is it? Are you okay?" He stood, and came and sat down with Bolco. "What? Tell me." He waited.
Bolco considered the faded blossom; joy and sadness washed by turns over his face, choking out words. Finally he spoke. "Jake, I think that when the lilacs fade, I will go home."
Jake let it sink in. (Yes. No. Oh, God.) Bolco was crying, so was Jake, and there was nothing else to say, and nothing else to do, then throw an arm across Bolco's shoulders and pray hard.
**********