The Path Well Traveled

By Alexandra Tbare

Her name was Elinor. She had done life exactly right. She had been married, had children, divorced, and remarried. A life is not exactly right unless there is at least one divorce. Her children were from her first marriage, and they felt Elinor had grown selfish after the divorce, but Elinor had always been a selfish person. She was strong-willed, serious, logical, and very beautiful. Even as she grew older, anyone could plainly see that she had a deep-rooted beauty. Some would say she looked like a pixie because of her silver short hair, her delicate but sharp jawline, and her soft eyes.  She had small golden glasses that sat on the tip of her nose which gave the impression that she was always judging everyone. You know that look old people give you? The look where their glasses sit at the edge of their nose as they peer into your soul? Elinor was the master of this look. 

Every single day, Elinor would go for a morning walk… alone. She had been doing this for twenty-five years. She started doing this because she enjoyed the attention she would receive from the wandering eye. She also enjoyed the strength that being alone brought her, especially as a woman– people never expected women to walk alone. She was proud and confident. Other women yearned to be like her, and Elinor knew she had this power which is why she enjoyed walking. She was a mystery; her thoughts, opinions, and beliefs were all a mystery, even to the people she was closest to. 

Elinor’s second husband had died in the fall. It was a fresh death; it had only happened a year ago. His name was Walter, and he lived each moment of his life to the fullest. He was selfless… well as selfless as a human being can be, and highly emotionally intelligent. You could say that Elinor and Walter were complete opposites. When Walter had died, Elinor kept on going. She felt sad, but she didn’t feel as sad as everyone expected her to be. She still started every day by putting on her makeup and ensuring her physique was polished and desirable. She would then head out for her morning walk. She would stop at the local coffee shop and order the same coffee, and then she would continue walking. She never walked fast, she wasn’t walking to achieve anything and she didn’t need to be anywhere. People who normally sat on park benches and watched her pass by, would occasionally get up to walk with her. They would expect that she would stop walking to speak to them, but she would keep on walking. This often frustrated people, they thought this was rude or a sign that she didn’t want to talk to them. The truth was, Elinor couldn’t stop walking. After she had stopped at the coffee shop, no one could stop her until she was done. 

On the one-year anniversary of Walters death, Elinor put on her makeup and she began her walk. About halfway through her walk, her feet became more sore than usual, and she started to experience a jabbing pain in her back. She finished her walk and iced her body. She had not experienced pain like this in a long time. 

The next day, she went on her walk again and her body did not hurt at all. She was relieved… until she saw her. This woman was beautiful. To Elinor, this woman was nameless but she was not a mystery. She had dark black hair and piercing green eyes. She was tall, and slender. Her body moved elegantly, and her arms swayed by her sides with an airy fairy-like lightness. She was wearing a dark purple summer dress on the first day Elinor saw her, so Elinor named her Violet. Violet was young; she was probably in her late twenties or early thirties. 

Elinor knew her. She followed Violet without meaning to. Violet walked faster than Elinor, but Elinor needed to know where she was going. Violet walked through parks and around buildings. She did not stop, and she did not speak to anyone. Elinor didn’t like that Violet was alone, she didn’t like that Violet wasn’t speaking to anyone. Soon, Violet found her way back to her home. It was a large apartment building, and she tapped a fob on the right side of the door to let herself in. Elinor stopped; she was exhausted. The pain in her body was tremendous. She was furious and everything hurt. 

Elinor cried herself to sleep that night. Have you ever cried yourself to sleep? Not when you’re in severe pain, but when your pain has been prolonged and it’s like a slow seeping release. You’re raw, and you’re sore, like a reopened wound. 

Elinor liked crying herself to sleep. Only once in a while, it wasn’t an everyday thing, but it felt important. She didn’t cry herself to sleep because she wanted attention, she wasn’t doing it to try to get someone to hear her and come to her aid. She would cry herself to sleep because it felt natural… necessary even. It didn’t feel good, and it didn’t feel bad. Crying sits still and it flows. She fell asleep smoothly– maybe even more smoothly than when she was not crying. 

The next day, Elinor woke up and she made herself presentable. She made it out of the house at the exact same time as the day before and she went to the same spot that she saw Violet. She waited and watched her surroundings. Something inside her yearned for Violet. She wanted her, and she hated her. Violet came around the corner, walking smoothly. Her expression was difficult to read. Elinor watched her as Violet walked past her. Her smell hit Elinor like a wave of regret, it was full of youth… the scent was desirable. Elinor followed her. The familiar ache in her body screamed at her to slow down, but this only made her walk faster. She hated the burning, but there was something in the pain that she also enjoyed. These emotions confused her, but she didn’t think about that, she just followed Violet. When Violet had finished walking, and made it back to her house, Elinor had fallen far behind. 

Elinor finished walking up to the building where Violet lived. The door was glass and the lights in the foyer had been burned out. The darkness behind the glass showed Elinor a woman whom she did not know. This woman had messy hair and her clothing was not meticulously positioned. Her glasses sat close to her eyes and sweat shined on her forehead. Elinor felt sickened. She turned away from the glass mirror and walked home. Every. Step. Hurt.

When Elinor got home, she had a shower. She turned the water scorching hot and she breathed in the steam filling the air. Elinor knew that she was going to talk to Violet the next day. It wasn’t a choice; it was a need… like walking. 

When Elinor woke up, she got dressed, and she left her house. She waited impatiently for Violet to arrive. When Violet turned the corner, Elinor approached her. 

“Hello!” Elinor said with a little bit too much excitement and anxiety. 

Violet was nervous. Try to imagine what Elinor looked like at this moment, and you will understand why. 

“Oh, hi.” Violet responded. 

“Can I talk to you?” When Violet hesitated, Elinor continued, “Please? I think you need to hear what I have to say.” 

Violet was curious. She looked around her and noticed that people were everywhere. People were jogging, sitting on benches, walking while talking on the phone… everywhere. 

Violet smiled politely, “Um… okay.” 

Elinor walked to a nearby bench, and she tapped the seat beside her. Violet followed and sat next to her, “I know you.” 

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember. Where have we met?” 

“No, no. We haven’t met. I know you, though. I am so relieved to finally meet someone who will understand me.” 

Violet was beginning to get more nervous. She had already assumed that Elinor was mentally unstable, and she was proving to be unstable the more she spoke. 

“Okay, I’m going to tell you a story. Do you like stories?” 

Violet was confused, “Um, I have to go home soon, my husband and I are going out for breakfast.” 

“Oh this won’t take too long, you’ll have enough time to get home to your husband, dear.” 

Violet was just about to argue more when she realized that Elinor’s whole demeanor had changed. Elinor was looking out into the distance, and everything felt more normal. Elinor adjusted her glasses and Violet saw her for what she was, a harmless old woman. 

It was at that moment when Elinor told Violet what she had thought. She told Violet what she thought about people, parties, animals, nature, jobs, food, and everything in between. As you have probably guessed, Violet was late to see her husband for breakfast. When the conversation was finished, Elinor felt so much relief. She asked if she could hug Violet and Violet nodded. 

Violet had listened to Elinor, and she was genuinely interested in everything this old woman had to say. Violet knew that her husband wouldn’t mind if she was a little bit late. She found Elinor’s thoughts interesting but estranged. She knew that Elinor had wanted her to share the same thoughts, so Violet had pretended to understand. Violet hugged the frail old woman tenderly, and Elinor went home. 

When Elinor arrived home, she missed Walter. She missed him more than she had ever missed anyone before. Elinor missed that he was different from her, she missed hearing his thoughts, and she wished that she had shared her own thoughts more. Elinor cried and she cried. Elinor was in severe pain. 

Now, my dear readers, you are probably wondering who I am. I am named Violet to Elinor, but that is not my real name. I have decided to tell Elinor’s story because she would not tell it herself. She moved to a home a few years after we first met and I visited her there frequently. I brought my children and my husband to visit her as well. I have gotten to know Elinor well over the years. I have often wished that she knew me, but I find comfort that she knew all that she was capable of knowing. 

I did not cry on the day that Elinor died. I don’t think that a lot of people cried. I met her children at the funeral. They looked sad but not as sad as everyone expected them to be.

I hope this story has not made you sad because this is not meant to be a sad story. Elinor was a selfish woman, please remember this. Elinor had always been a selfish woman. 

Alexandra Tbare has a Bachelor of Arts majoring in English, and a Bachelor of Education. She has been a passionate writer since she was six years old and she had a short story published with Polar Express Publishing. Alexandra has written many short stories, and is currently working on a novel. Common themes in her works include death, innocence, and change.