The Turquoise Scarf

When I was 7, my great-grandmother made me a one-of-a-kind turquoise scarf. She hand embroidered it and made it special. I wore it every day, even in the summer; I always figured out a way

When I was about 13, a boy, not dressed nearly enough for the weather, bumped into me on the street on a very cold December evening. He quickly apologized and helped me up, before hurrying off. As I was walking along, heading home from my friend's house, I saw the boy again, curled up on a frozen bench and looking awfully blue. I was about to pass him, knowing I'd be late if I stopped, but I thought about it and felt guilty. So, I turned and walked over to him. All I had to offer to keep him warm was my scarf.

I knew I'd really get it from my mom later, but I took off my scarf and gave it to him. He needed it more than I did. He was so cold it looked like he was gonna have trouble putting it on. I could have been totally wrong, but I assumed that, so I wrapped it around his neck for him. He smiled at me.

"This is very important to me," I said to him. "So, take care of it while you have it, okay?"

"I will," he replied.

"I have to go home. I expect that scarf back!"

"I'll make sure it gets back to you."

I went home. Like I knew it would, I got it hard from my mom for coming home without my special scarf. I explained to her that I had just loaned it out and I'd get it back eventually. She let me off with an angry sigh and told me to clean my room. I cleaned it and watched some movies for the rest of the night.

4 years passed before I ever saw him or my scarf again.

It was a November afternoon, and I was walking along eating a sandwich my mom had made for me. I caught a glimpse of someone walking along the sidewalk on the other side of the street. When I looked, it was a guy with my special turquoise scarf hanging over his shoulders. He had the same fast as the boy I had met several years earlier, just older-looking. I sucked in air to call out for him but a speeding semi drove by, blowing everything around. When it passed, the guy was running down the street. He disappeared around a corner. I gave chase, running back down the sidewalk to see if I could catch him. But he was a fast runner, and by the time I reached the end of the sidewalk to see where he had run, he was already far away. I sighed in defeat and continued on my way.

I graduated high school a little after I turned 18. Me and all my friends had a pool party afterwards. A guy who I had a crush on at the time, Chris pushed me into the pool and jumped in after me. When we came up he grabbed me and kissed me. It was my first kiss. He asked me out two weeks after that and we dated for about three years. After that, we had a big fight and broke up. As I was storming home from his house and coming up to my house, I looked and saw the guy in the distance. He still had my scarf, wrapped around his neck. He got into a blue car and drove away. I sighed upon seeing my scarf again but still not being able to get it. My mailbox was open, however, so I went to it. Inside was a blank envelope without a name or any address or stamp or anything. I took it with me into my house and went to my room. Taking off my shoes and laying down on the bed, I opened the envelope to see what was inside. Since I lived alone, I knew it had to be for me. Inside was a single, tiny piece of paper, from a little notepad. The handwriting was tiny and neat. I read it aloud to no one, "Your scarf has saved my life more than once, now. I hope you don't mind if I keep it a while longer."

It wasn't signed, the envelope was blank. I was left with nothing. But I knew it was from him. But he said my scarf had saved his life…how could it have saved his life? He had to have meant that night when I first gave it to him. But how could my single scarf save him from freezing to death?

I spend all night thinking about it.

I eventually got a job in a floral shop. I always loved flowers. I could never afford to go to college. The floral shop, and eventually my second job in a toy store and my seasonal jobs were enough to pay for everything. My house had belonged to my grandparents so it was already paid off. I admit it, I had it easy. I arranged wedding bouquets and sold toys to happy little kids. Every now and then I'd think about the guy and my scarf. I kind of wanted it back. But I never got angry. He said it had saved his life. I didn't doubt what he said, as silly as it seemed. If he had really wanted to keep my scarf, why would he even try lying to me about it when we never saw each other? I didn't see a point. So I believed him.

About five years after I saw him on the street outside my house, I saw him again. I was sitting in the coffee shop, early morning, and drinking my coffee. I remember on that day, there was an earthquake. A whole bunch of people ran toward a tiny building that was collapsing. The coffee shop was okay, so I stayed inside. But as I watched the building collapse, I saw the guy with my scarf amongst the crowd. A piece of the building's roof fell right toward him. But…another person running past managed to hook my scarf, tied around his neck, and pulled him back out of the way.

It saved his life!

I ran outside to go over, but he was already gone. He was jogging down the street and turned a corner and out of sight, just as he had before several years earlier. I didn't even think about giving chase. I was going to be late for work.

After that, the guy and my scarf became something I frequently thought about. I became more and more infatuated with him, curious as to exactly how many times my scarf had saved his life, and how, and what from. I had a whole list thought of up of questions to ask him when I finally managed to catch up to him. I started to watch for him with my scarf daily. It just made the entire two years that passed before I saw him again seem a lot longer.

I was driving home from work at the floral shop, which the owner had given to me. Our country had recently been thrown into war. There were propaganda posters all over the buildings. I had torn down several from the floral shop windows earlier because they annoyed me. I didn't care about any of that, and I didn't want it on the windows of the shop. I came to a red light and stopped, of course, and waited for the light to go green. I was looking around as I waited. Chris, the guy I had dated, was in the car in the lane beside mine. He rolled down the window and I rolled down mine. He asked me to pull over, because he really wanted to talk to me. I was really reluctant about it. I wasn't sure if I wanted to pull over to talk to him. I had seen him in three years and I wasn't sure I wanted to know what he was gonna talk to me about.

But for some reason, I pulled over.

We were both in the parking lot of some big office building. Chris looked like his life was terrible; his hair was unkempt, he was poorly dressed, he looked tired, and smelled like alcohol. Anyone smart would have left. But I guess I wasn't very smart. I was right about what he wanted; he started going on about how badly he wanted to get back together. I told him no and went to get back in my car, but he grabbed me and pulled out a knife. I had never been more scared in my life.

But someone tackled him before he could hurt me. I watched as he, and, of course, the man with my scarf, wrestled around the parking lot. I called the police on my cell phone. He managed to knock Chris out a few minutes before the police arrived. He looked at me, and I'll never forget the look he gave me. A gentle smile. Surely enough, he still had my scarf, wrapped around his neck. His face was so perfect-looking, I could never forget it. We looked at each other for a while before he finally spoke.

"There's a cold winter coming," he said. "You don't mind if I keep your scarf just a little bit longer? Just until this winter ends? I promise you I'll return it to you as soon as spring comes."

I agreed.

And then he was gone again. Nearly as fast as he had come. And while I had been caught up in the moment, I had forgotten to thank him for saving my life! And so I had a reason to search for him, too. We both had something to give the other.

As soon as the snow first came, time seemed to slow. Spring couldn't come faster. I wasn't excited to finally be getting my scarf back…I had to admit, I was much more excited to see him again. I got a tree, decorated it, went to my parents' house for Christmas and finally saw all of my family again. My cousins were bugging me as to when I was planning to get married (I wasn't sure, haha!), my parents were concerned with how I was doing, and my grandma was alone. My grandpa had passed away a few years earlier. But for the first time since I lent it to the boy when I was 13, my grandma asked me where on earth my turquoise scarf had gone. So, I sat down with her next to the decorated Christmas tree and told her everything. She squealed like a little girl and promised not to tell anyone. Although I did promise my parents that Christmas I'd have my scarf back, soon, because my mom remembered it that same day and started asking me about it. She wanted to know just which of my friends could borrow a scarf and need it that long! We ate dinner, opened presents, and I drove home through a potential snowstorm. When I got home, I sat down and had a cup of hot chocolate (cliché, I know), and watched a romance movie, followed by some comedy. I went to sleep late that night, and slept in.

As winter drew to a close, I saw more and more propaganda around the streets and the war became bigger. It was constantly on all the news channels. It got worse and worse. And then one day, one chilly February morning, I saw a report saying there had been a rebellion in the city just a couple blocks down from where I lived! A bunch of people suspected to be spies or terrorists were rounded up and arrested, shipped off to some prison. There was a picture of the "rebels" and among them I saw…

Had he been arrested?

It was clearly my turquoise scarf, wrapped around the neck of one of the people being arrested. I stared at it, in shock, as though he was one of my closest friends, arrested. Even though I had only met him face to face twice in my life. I felt like it just couldn't be true.

Spring came along and nothing happened. I waited, watched. I almost felt weird. But I never saw him, walking down the street. I saw people with turquoise scarves, but none of them were him, and none of them was my special scarf. I watched the news and kept myself updated with the prison and the rebels and the "spies." They were still being held, through the rest of spring and even throughout summer. About one and a half years later, I got a letter in the mail, coming from the prison. I was nervous to open the letter. Exactly as I had years before, I lay down on my bed and opened the envelope, pulling out the letter. There were two inside; the first one explained that one of the men being held had wanted to send me a letter and blah, blah, blah. I took out the second one and read it. It was very short and written with a pen that looked like it was running out of ink. It read, "Hey. I got caught up in that whole anti-government spy thing. I'm sorry…Your scarf was the only thing I talked them into letting me keep in here! I'll get out soon enough, and when I do, I will give your scarf back to you. And dang, I should include some interest or something. I've had this thing for at least 15 years now! I so owe you. I hope you aren't too mad."

Again, there was no name. I still didn't know even what his name was. I was starting to feel more concerned about him, and care less about the scarf. I was starting to forget what the embroidery and all the "special things" about it even looked like. But I never forgot what his face looked like.

Three years passed before I heard anything. And what I heard was awful. "ONE OF THE PRISONS HOLDING CIVILIANS BELIEVED TO BE ANTI-GOVERNMENT REBELS WAS BOMBED TODAY. IT IS UNKNOWN IF ANYONE SURVIVED THE EXPLOSION."

I didn't bother reading anything after that, I didn't care to know. I was convinced he was dead. I continued on my life after that. Everything had a different feeling. I hired and fired employees from my growing floral shop. I quit my job at the toy store and worked to help the war. For the most part I managed donations for the soldiers, things like food and blankets and things. I started a little charity. I felt good about all of the things I was doing. I felt like I was really helping people. Meanwhile, I was still running the floral shop. In my spare time I would plan out random bouquets and stuff, and I eventually made up a wedding bouquet that I adored, and decided it would be my own, whenever my wedding finally happened, if it did.

I kept up with the war effort and named all the little charities after my turquoise scarf. We were called simply the Turquoise Scarves. We were in newspapers and on the local news channels.

About two years after I read about the explosion in the prison, the news released something new as the war finally came to a close with us as the victors. "ALL CIVILIANS BELIEVED TO BE ANTI-GOVERNMENT REBELS AND SPIES WERE RELEASED EARLY THIS MORNING, HAVING FINALLY BEEN PROVEN INNOCENT OF THEIR ALLEGED CRIMES."

My hopes of him still being around didn't go up. I read about the prisoners in their prisons and it turned out a lot of them were killed, not to mention all of those killed in the explosion. I went about my life. Since the war was finally over, all of my little donation things were no longer needed. But, I kept my charity open, and instead made it a charity for the suffering. I managed that while running my floral shop. I was satisfied with life.

I came home one day and found a blank package in my mailbox. I took it inside without thinking, and sat down on the couch. I watched an episode of my favorite comedy show, completely forgetting about it. After the episode was over, I noticed it, and, with a quick sigh, took it and it cut it open with my scissors. I reached inside and pulled out what was within.

It was neatly folded. There was stitching in several places, evidence of ripping and tearing. A piece of it was fraying, and was lazily sewn by someone who had absolutely no skill. And finally, there was a red stain along part of its edge. But it was still my same, special, hand-embroidered turquoise scarf.

Eagerly I looked inside, and there were two little notes. I pulled them both out and looked at them. Once was an address and a number, and the other was a tiny hand-written note. I read over the address and then the note. The note read: "I'm sorry I had to lie to you and break all of the promises that were made to you. It was all just to preserve a final wish. I hope you understand."

I was very confused, but I got dressed quickly and left the house with the little address and my scarf around my neck, despite how beat up it was. I had the little note in my pocket. I followed the street names until I reached the address that was written.

It was a cemetery.

I didn't doubt the address; I got out and went into the cemetery. I quickly noticed the gravestones were numbered. I looked at the number on the note with the address, and hunted down the gravestone with that number.

It was a tiny gravestone with only a few things engraved on it. A name: Canaan Evergreen. A date of birth and date of death. I quickly did the math; this Canaan would only have been 14 at the time of his death. And then I realized something. After quickly doing some more math, I realized how old I would have been at the time of his death.

Thirteen.

21 years ago.

It was only then I noticed a little letter with my name on it in front of the old stone. I picked it up and sat beside the gravestone, fearing I already knew what I was to find within the little envelope. I opened it and pulled out the letter inside. I read it slowly.

"My little brother Canaan froze to death on December 18th, 21 years ago. I didn't find him in time to save him. He had run away from home after being beaten by our abusive father. When I found him, he had this weird turquoise scarf, the only thing keeping him even remotely warm. Before he died he gave it to me and made me promise I'd find you and give it back to you someday. I promised, and he died. I wanted to keep my promise to him but I had no idea who you were, or how to find you. I searched for a long time, asking around about a girl with a turquoise scarf. No one knew who I was talking about. And then I finally found someone who knew you. I found your house and gave you that first letter, but the scarf had been helping me greatly, so I felt I should keep it a bit longer. It was the same. And when I saved you from that guy that one day, I decided I'd pretend to be my brother. Since we looked alike, you obviously believed I was him. And then I got caught up in that whole spy thing with the war. I was in that explosion, and I got really burned up, so I didn't want to meet you face to face again. I was recaptured, though, and held till the end of the war. When I was released not too long ago, I decided I had kept the scarf long enough, so I mailed it back to. If you're getting this letter know that means you got it. Good. I hope Canaan will be happy. I hope the scarf isn't in such bad shape you won't want to wear it. I know I've really wrecked it over the years.

I'm so sorry.

-Ezra"

I just stared at the letter.

The boy I lent my scarf to when I was 13 had died that night. Because my scarf wasn't enough. But even more…my whole life, the person I had been seeing was his brother, not him. The man who saved my life from the drunken Chris was his brother, not him.

Even though it was rather a minor thing, I felt like my whole life had been a lie. I had been following a ghost.

I went home that night with that letter in my pocket, and my scarf around my neck. Yes, it was beat up. But I still wore it. It was still my special scarf. I didn't bother to do anything else that night. I went straight to sleep. The next day I returned to little Canaan's grave with some blue flowers from my floral shop. I had made a little tiny bouquet for him during my break. I set it down in front of his grave, and even though I never really knew him, I felt sad.

And then I turned to leave. I found myself suddenly feeling very determined.

I set out to find Ezra.