WRITING

I don’t care that it’s taken two months of build up to open that God forsaken door, and in one moment of desperation it’s flung open without a second thought. All I care about now is finding them. Those ornaments; the glass ones and the wire ones and the ones with pearls hung delicately on golden ribbons that attach to the wings of doves.

I madly tear through box after box of his things looking for them, because I need them now more than I ever thought I would. It’s the first day of December and Kai would’ve been up at the crack of dawn, putting up the tree and hanging the decorations with his expert fingers. But he’s not here to do that and now that the living room’s empty, I feel the centre of my chest being scraped away and a hollowness bleeding in to take its place. So I really need to find those ornaments because I don’t want today to turn into a bad day. Dr. Griffin says that on those days I need to call someone immediately because last time one of them came around, I tried to do something stupid.

I lower my hand into another box, fishing around until my fingers brush against the cool surface of a wooden box, and I know I’ve finally found what I’m looking for. I reach both hands in and retrieve it, placing it in front of me on the floor. Lifting the lid, a collection of beautifully familiar decorations is revealed to me; atop of it is a small, white cage holding a dove that dangles from a perch inside.

–––––––––––––––

It was a big deal inviting Kai back home for Christmas. When I’d told the twins, they were elated. What more could I expect from two love-centric, romance-driven, adolescent girls? Ones who believed in the kind of true love that you saw in movies. The standing-in-the-rain-to-prove-yourself kind of love. The dying-together-of-old-age kind of love. I believed in the love that was shared between sisters. The do-anything-to-protect-you kind of love.

We arrived on Christmas Eve, me with my shaking hands and Kai with a small gift bag. Kai was polite, charming. He gushed over how beautifully my mother had decorated the house for the season, and she had beamed, waving him off and telling him it was nothing. He told the twins how gorgeous they both looked, and they blushed and giggled and later pulled me into another room, warning me not to freeze this one out ‘or else’.

And then Kai pulled out four individually wrapped boxes, handing one to each of us. “It’s not much,” he’d said, rubbing his palm along the back of his neck, a nervous trait of his I’d picked up on not too long into our relationship.

My mother’s held a glass globe, encasing a delicately placed daisy, and my sisters got semi-identical ones; a yellow and a blue heart lying in the centre of a detailed glass snowflake. The two of them had shrieked with glee, almost knocking Kai over with the massive bear hug they’d given him.

And inside mine was a white wire cage, a dove perched on a swing in the centre.

“You didn’t have to do this, Kai,” I said as I lifted the ornament out of the box, twirling it between my fingers to admire the beauty of it.

“I wanted to,” he told me, with a shrug and a smile as bright as the sun.

And I kissed him then, in front of my mother and my sisters. And I started to believe in true love too.

–––––––––––––––

Lately my limbs have taken on this kind of heaviness that drags me down further into myself, where they ache like hell and everything’s stiff. But now that I’m standing here and looking at the tree I’ve just decorated, I don’t seem to feel it as much anymore. And the hollowness that was there before seems to slowly seep away until I feel a dull throb, and a semblance of warmth flutters through my heart at the memory of Kai and his love for Christmas that I could never truly appreciate until now.

I begin to think that maybe today will be a good day after all, and I haven’t had one in a while, so I think I should make the most of it. And I think I should do the thing I haven’t had the courage to do in two months.

So I grab my keys from the bench and head for the garage, switching on the light, its brightness blinding me for a moment. And, as the vehicle fades in to view, the pain begins to return, and it’s as if the nightmare is even realer than ever before. I see Kai as he drives down the dark road that leads to our home. The stars in the night sky above him mock me with empty promises of infinity. And then suddenly I see a light appear in front of him, growing bigger and brighter until all I see is black.

–––––––––––––––

The wind whips through my hair, loose tendrils blowing about erratically. My seatbelt presses down on me with an undeniable presence, and although I’m tied down, I find myself remembering how it felt when the moon fell in love with the sun.

I keep driving, and although there’s no end in sight, I know that when the time comes to turn around and go back that I’ll somehow be better than before. Healed but still broken; a bird without wings, but a bird nonetheless. And I can learn to survive without the things that made me who I truly was, even if life will never come to any good.

I'm still coming to terms with how life isn't always what it's like in movies, and how sometimes, on an ordinary day, I'll have to settle for okay, then on bad days I'll have to accept that the pain I feel in my chest isn't a reflection of who I am, but what I've been through.

And maybe soon I can realise that life isn't perfect. Nothing ever is. And tomorrow may be a good day too, but soon enough I'll be numb with the next and feel caged again, but I remind myself that he would hate to see me this way. So I smile, through the tears, for him.

fin.

It's been two weeks since we lowered the casket.

Mum looks so vacant now; she sits and stares emptily at the wall where a portrait of my father once hung, a wall bearing all the scars of a lifetime together. I took down his image when I saw how much it upset her. It was almost as if she died along with him, and I hate myself for sometimes wishing that she had. That we both had. 

The sun is completing its journey below the thick brush behind our house, and I try to get her up off that damn chair because I'm hungry and the fridge and cupboards are bare and I'm too skinny. But she just stares at the wall as if her 13 year old child isn't slowly being eaten away.

So I sob. The kind of tears that speak pain.

My wails seem to awaken something in her because her eyes lose the glaze that greets me every morning. As her gaze flicks to where I stand and she eyes me with something akin to worry, a wave of relief washes over me. Hope begins to claw its way back into my heart and I embrace it, despite the undeniable feeling that her time back in reality will be very limited.

She orders pizza and we cry ourselves to sleep.

–––––––––––––––

I start a new school with new people, and it’s a new life.

I stay clear of the other kids, observing silently in comfort. And then I see him. It's hard not to when he's surrounded by half the cafeteria. He speaks animatedly, gestures wildly, each and every one of them hanging on his words as if they’re made of pure gold. 

Immediately, I take a dislike, because he looks so genuinely happy and I haven’t felt like that in what seems like forever. It’s admittedly petty, so I look away in shame.

As I pick dumbly at the peanut butter sandwich I managed to scrounge up for myself this morning, a shadow falls over the table. And when I look up he's there, bright green eyes and dark hair and beaming smile.

He slides into the seat across from me and I try to hide myself behind wispy bangs.

“Hi, I’m Nick.”

“Hi.” I attempt indifference.

“You’re new, right?” 

I nod.

“Well, I think we should be friends.”

“Really?”

He nods back at me eagerly and my eyes are drawn to the way his hair bounces at the movement.

“Okay. We can be friends.”

I look back at his face to see it overcome with a broad grin, a dimple appearing on his left cheek, and I can’t help but mirror his enthusiasm.

–––––––––––––––

“So, the guys want to go to the beach.”

I hum in acknowledgement as my thumbs twiddle with the controls, the character on the screen in front of us targeting his in time with my clumsy movements.

“Just wondering if you wanted to come along, too.”

“You’re kidding me,” I deadpan, looking over to see Nick smiling sheepishly as his character executes a tornado kick.

“Come on. It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah, sure. ‘Cause I’d just love that idiot — whatever his name is — talking about my tits, yet again. We all know how much I loved that last time.”

“That was last year! Everything and everyone has changed. We’ve known joy, we’ve known loss––”

“Fifteen pounds of it to be exact.”

Nick throws his head back and barks with laughter. It’s a still-deepening sound, and so ridiculously contagious that I betray my scowl and join in.

We order pizza and laugh until we fall asleep.

–––––––––––––––

Nick nods his head towards the other side of the room.

“I heard they like you.”

“Not really my type.”

“How are they not your—what even is your type?” 

I freeze at the thought that enters my mind. You are.

“I don’t know,” I breathe out with a shaky laugh. “Just not them.”

–––––––––––––––

Nick and his friends are out at one of their brothers' house parties and I’m lying in bed by myself. It’s not as if I like all that guy stuff, anyway, but it makes it harder when my best friend does. I wouldn’t be much fun— just there to crash the party. A freak, a drag. Unwanted.

I can almost vividly see him now, drinking, and laughing and dancing with beautiful girls. And I accept that, I really do. But that doesn’t stop me from wishing of another world where Nick could love me like I love him. And it doesn’t stop me from dreaming of it being me that he’s with.

It’s not him and their long legs and full lips and girly giggles that I see.

Instead I picture stout fingers wrapping around dark waves, and his, so nimble and capable, weaving themselves through my longer strands. I picture green eyes and imperfect dimples as we share something so sacred. And then lips meeting, and stars, and the unspoken finally being said.

–––––––––––––––

I’ve just gotten my acceptance letter into university and I speed down the hallways, dodging students here and there because I need to show Nick. He’ll be so proud.

I’m nearing his locker and can hardly contain the excitement that bubbles up inside of me. And then I see her. She’s small in stature and has fair, wispy hair, and I can’t help but think that we almost look related.

She reaches up on the tips of her toes and softly presses her lips against his, careless smiles gracing their faces as they pull apart.

Everything that happens next is a blur. They walk over, hand in hand, and he introduces us and tells me how this all came to be. She blushes, acts sweet and she’s too damn perfect. It makes it easy for me to hate her. However, once she’s gone, I’m left there with Nick and his beaming smile and suddenly I don’t hate her because she makes him happy in a way that I know I’d never be able to. But now I’m drowning, sinking further away from the surface, and closer to the point of no return.

“She’s amazing, really,” he says with a solid pat on my back. “Now we just gotta find you a nice girl, buddy.”

“Sure.” I smile and nod but my insides are screaming no and I feel like dry heaving and my chest is aching with a pain that I haven’t felt since I was a young boy. And the only person who I want to talk about this with is Nick but I know that’s not an option.

So, when I go home, I order pizza and cry myself to sleep.

fin.

 .

Some things happen in life that change a man. Forever.

.

He burst through the back door of the tavern into the dimly lit alley, his locks dishevelled into unsightly disarray and the anxiety in his eyes almost palpable. When a man with a cigar had sent a cloud of smoke his way he knew what was bound to happen. It was a fate that befell him all too often; the trigger, the panic, and then the flashes where he could see it as clearly as if it were yesterday.

As if on cue, the flash began, and he was there again. On the battle field. All his men still alive, yet he knew how it would end— how it always ended.

The fatigued men trudged through the blood-soaked ground in the direction of home base. The atmosphere had an eerie calmness to it that sent a shiver through his entire being. Watching with horror as the squadron ambled on ahead, he wished that he could in some way call a warning in time for them all to escape. His voice seized despite his butchered feet continuing to rise and plunge onward into hell. He could feel no pain, just the urgency of self-preservation and the will to preserve his brethren. Yet no matter how hard he tried, not a single noise would come from his parted lips. A soundless cry for mercy.

.

Nothing turns a boy into a man like staring 

death in the face.

.

Time vanished as the shells were released, their contents littered across the grounds. “Gas! Gas! Quick, boys!” a comrade yelled as the soldiers ran about in a dance of pure terror, fumbling for their masks to escape the deadly fumes. 

All that could be heard in that moment was the uproar of heavy coughs, panting men searching for a single breath of untainted air, and the howls of those who couldn’t find their masks in time. The commotion continued as he pushed through the clouds of poison in search of an escape. And suddenly, there he was; the one who would cloud his mind each night without fault.

.

Nothing turns a man into a boy like watching death engulf his brother.

.

The ill-fated soldier lunged at him, guttering, choking, drowning – trying to hold onto a life that was fated to end. The young man’s eyes bore into his until all life had drained, leaving them hollow and unreachable. But through them, he could still see the boy’s mother and father weeping as they were told their son had been led to a definite death. He could see the forlorn girl the boy had abandoned to fight for his country in a battle of senseless hostility. And worst of all, he could see their faces, riddled with pain, as they found out he wasn’t coming back alive.

.

Nothing breaks a man like mans’ inhumanity

to one another.

.

The flashes would always cease at that moment, leaving him trapped for what seemed like an eternity in the fog of poisonous gas, with the boy’s limp body at rest in his arms. 

.

Nothing breaks a father like knowing your son’s wounds 

and not being able to heal them.

.

Falling to his knees, he looked up into the obscured night sky and prayed for the one thing he always did; relief from an existence of pain and guilt. Living a life with wounds unhealable by any man was something he didn’t intend on continuing. He hugged the gravelly surface of the darkened street and made no attempt to choke back his whimpering sobs as he ached for Death’s soft touch to consume him. But against his deepest wishes, Death would take its’ time.

.

As a father, you can only be as happy as your 

least happy child.

.

Is this the glory of war that they speak of?

fin.