by CJ Lyons
I feel an impulse to always cook him sweet things, as he seems to enjoy them fully.
Although, he also loves the savoury flavours in sandwiches too.
As an afterthought, he just really enjoys anything I cook him, I think.
I’ll just cook for him for the rest…
Dammit. I’ll be dead.
He went home shortly after breakfast, bowing to Terra, which I’ve taken to mean he is thankful for something.
“Bye! See you on Monday!” I called as he walked down the sidewalk. “You can return my sweater then!”
He waved, smiling softly.
(Be still my fluttering heart)
As soon as he was gone, I turned to Terra.
“You’ve been seeing him and checking up on him? How long?”
She sat down on the sofa, looking serious. “After going out with Murray and Sean on Dad’s birthday, I was walking home from the pub, and I found him on the street.”
I sat down beside her, this brief prologue piquing my interest. “On- on the street?”
“He was sitting in the alley outside of the pub, just out of sight. I only saw him because a car drove by and the headlights shone on him.” She clasped her hands together. “He was shaking, from the cold, maybe. It was raining that night. So I tried to help him up, and he just passed out.” She looked at me worriedly, “I got him to come round, but he kept refusing to go to the hospital. There was blood on him, from a cut on his forehead.” A deep breath, “He got up, and tried to walk away, and he just collapsed in that alleyway. He shouldn’t have been like that, just hurt and bleeding in an alley in the rain. All I could do was call Sean to bring a car around, and we drove him to the hospital. When he woke up, we were just getting in, and he pretty much fought us off to get out of there.”
I swallowed, having nothing to say, so she continued.
“He started to run, so I chased him down to the park area, you know, the place where the sunroom overlooks. He had stopped next to one of the benches, and looked fit to collapse again.” She seemed to be reliving the event exactly as it has happened, and was merely narrating it or something.
“He kept saying ‘questions, questions’ over and over; I eventually got him to stop and actually look at me, I think he realised who I was, or who I look like anyway, cause he said your name then. ‘Aerie’, he called me, and stopped and listened to what I was saying. He seemed weirdly calm and reasonable then. I at least got him to calm down and let me have a look at him. He was concussed out of his mind, which might have explained his obvious confusion with who I was. He absolutely refused to go into the hospital though, and I couldn’t force him, I guess. So I got Sean to drive us to his place, 2514 Oakshield Avenue, right?”
Made a noise of objection at that, and she looked at me curiously.
“His house, don’t you know…?”
“What? I dropped him off, his father came out and took him inside, I figured he was safe. He must have been mugged or-“
“Don’t you know who’s doing this?” I asked incredulously, leaning forward. “It’s-” I stopped, wondering if that particular piece of information could be potentially harmful to her.
“What? What’s wrong? Do you know who hurt him? Aerian, you have to tell me!”
“But I-”
“We have to stop this if we can! I looked him over, and I think this has been happening for a long time!”
“I promised him I wouldn’t do anything.” I looked at Terra, meeting her worried blue gaze, “I promised.”
“You can’t let this keep happening to him, he’s your friend.”
I sighed, looking away. “His- his father hits him.”
Could feel her staring, but I wouldn’t look at her.
The silence lasted too long.
“His… father…” she slid closer to me on the couch, placing her hand on my shoulder, “You should have told me sooner. We’ll find a way to-”
“You don’t understand. No one will believe him. He’s considered unlucky by the town, it’s stupid, but they won’t listen to anything he says.” I explained this in a monotone, sort of paying homage to the way Noah always spoke, “His father owns the police or something, so we can’t ask them either.”
“That’s impossible. There’s always something that can be done to help someone else! Remember that’s what Dad would always say ‘it’s better to try than to wonder how it might have worked’. We’ve got to do something for him. We can anonymously place tips that there might be some kind of abuse going on, get the government involved. We can go higher than this town if we need to. This has to stop.”
She spoke with such force that I was taken aback for a moment. “O-okay. We can try.”
“I’ll call the shelter now, they’ll know what to do.”
Terra contacted her friends who worked at the local women’s shelter, who then gave her numbers to call and report possible cases of domestic abuse.
She talked for an hour and a half with person after person, and eventually hung up and put her head on the table resignedly.
“I called every single one in this damn province and they all said there was a case opened a while ago, but it was closed after investigation. They won’t re-open the case without a report from the victim themselves.”
“What? How can they do that??? What if the person who needs help is too scared to ask for it!? That system is insane!” I slammed my hand on the countertop, breathing angrily.
My one hope we could save him from his father was promptly crushed, so I guess that explains why I flew off the handle a bit. Coughed, wincing at the now-familiar pain in my chest.
Went to my room, after excusing myself, and threw myself onto my bed.
Buried my face in my pillow, frustration burning hot and fierce under my skin. I hate it, that feeling you get, of hopefulness followed by absolute rejection.
Don’t even want to write anymore. I’m so… dejected.
132 Days, 18 October, Saturday
Terra phoned one more number today, this time identifying herself as the nurse in charge of emergency at the Central Hospital.
She seemed to be making progress, as the person on the other end of the line said they’d send someone by his house to see what was happening.
“I can’t believe I didn’t think of that yesterday,” she frowned, then perked up, “But now we’ve got someone involved, right?”
“Yeah…” I couldn’t get too excited, I had this worried thought that this had the potential to only make things worse.
131 Days, 19 October, Sunday
I’m worried for tomorrow. It’ll break my heart if he shows up to school and he’s hurt because of the visit from the government official.
Can’t think about anything but that today.
Almost sick with worry.
130 Days, 20 October, Monday
Another piece of my heart broke today. I keep holding them up in hopes that they’ll be received with grace and happiness, and they keep getting smashed and thrown back in my face.
My instincts told me to look around the school for him today. Don’t know why, but I obeyed. Skipped Math to see if I could find him somewhere.
He was behind the library, sitting in the small alcove outside between the fire exit and the storage shed. He had his face buried in his hands, and the small sound coming from him suggested he was crying.
Tentatively, I stepped closer, not wanting to surprise him or scare him. He paid no attention to me, sobbing quite audibly into his hands.
I’ve never seen him cry, not like this. My heart groaned with empathy, forcing me to reach out to him. As soon as I touched him, he jumped and looked up.
Tears ran down his face in unrestrained paths, glistening and wet. He wiped them away with his sleeve hurriedly, sniffing and coughing.
“Tell me what’s wrong.” I said, already fearing his response.
“S-someone from a child welfare agency c-came yesterday… I just lied again. F-Father thought it was M-May who
called, and he- he- hit her!” He broke down, gripping his arms tightly, “He’s never hit h-her; I wouldn’t allow it. I don’t know wh-why they even showed up! Neither of us called!” He sobbed into his hands again, his whole body trembling.
There. That confirmed it. I broke my promise, and someone got hurt. I had to tell him…
“Noah… It was me; me and Terra anyway. We called the agency.”
He looked up at me, a ferocity burning in his eyes. “You? You called them?” Flames seemed to light behind his eyes as he stood up, looking angrily down at me, “You… my friend. You broke our promise.” His right fist slammed into the wall beside him, I think he’s bleeding from the force, “And my sister got hurt because of it!”
I looked down; I’ve never felt so ashamed. The way he yelled, it was like very emotion he was feeling was interwoven with his words, strangling them into some confused mixture of anger and disappointment.
“My sister does not deserve that. I won’t allow it!!!” he yelled, more at the world than me, I think. Could feel his gaze on me again, and he continued, his voice softer. “This happened because you broke your promise.” He knelt down in front of me, I hadn’t moved. “You cannot reverse what you have done, even though I see you wish to.”
His hand fell on my shoulder, but I still couldn’t look up from where my eyes were drilling through the concrete.
“This wish cannot be realised, it would be wise to find an alternate solution you can make work within this reality. I understand your motive, it is a promise a true friend would break. I will forgive you for breaking your promise because you proved yourself to be my friend. Together, we will find some way to fix what has happened to my sister. This is what I’ve come to understand friendship encompasses.”
Finally looked up at him, he stared intently back at me.
“We are friends, I will forgive you. Please help me find a solution. Together.”
“I’m so sorry…” I whispered, “The promise… can we make a new one? Please.”
“Promise me… that you will always make your decisions with the hope and goal of the best intentions. Regardless of the result, I will know your intentions, and will believe in you fully.”
“I promise.” I blinked and shook my head, “I absolutely promise. I’m so sorry.”
“I know you had only the best intentions. I am fully aware.” His grip on my shoulder increased, and he winced a bit.
I looked at his hand, realising that he had split the skin on the three of the four knuckles on his right hand. Blood was tracking out of them, running down his fingers and onto my shoulder.
“You’re hurt…” I said softly, touching his hand.
He looked surprised; he must not have noticed until I pointed it out. I held his hand in my own, and instinctively brought it to my lips.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, feeling the drops of blood cool against my lips. “Forgive me, please…”
Could feel his gaze on me, but didn’t dare look up. Couldn’t face the fire blazing in his eyes. It would burn me, and I couldn’t stand that pain.
“You are forgiven.” He said, and withdrew his hand.
He walked away. So did I, in the opposite direction.
I came home and went to my room.
129 Days, 21 October, Tuesday
Why is it that he has to suffer so much? I believe in karma, the equivalency of the universe and everything in it. Equivalent exchange, what goes around comes around, the threefold law. All these things explain the order of the world.
So why? What has he done to deserve all this pain? There must be a reason.
There has to be a reason.
Found him again, I’m always looking for him, and keep finding him broken and bleeding. It’s a cruel game of hide and seek where no one ever wins and I’m always It.
His favourite place now seems to be that alcove behind the library, as it is often unused, save for instances in which someone happens to be in the library during a fire drill.
At least the weather was nice today, so he wasn’t cold, but…
He was asleep when I found him, with his uniform jacket wrapped tightly around him. Woke him up gently, wary of any new injuries he might have.
His shirt was unbuttoned four buttons down, showing a black bruise across his chest. I helped him up, and supported him on the walk back here.
He was quiet, almost silent. I think he was concussed, actually, just from his lack of focus.
I let him go back to sleep; the only thing he said was, in a whisper, “Sleep…”
So I let him, and covered him with the same blankets we used just a few nights ago. I am fond of that memory, I keep replaying it in my mind as he’s sleeping.
It’s tainted now, the guilt of my broken promise eating away at the edges.
Apparently, I fell asleep in the armchair beside him, soaking up the heat from the radiator and the sun streaming through the window.
When I woke up, he was gone, and a note was on the coffee table.
Aerie,
I am sorry I left without waking you.
Thank you for saving me.
Our friendship is a beautiful thing.
-Noah
Took this to mean he has fully forgiven me for what I’d done. Still feel terrible about what happened, but also somewhat relieved that, even though I had betrayed his trust… we were still friends.
Feel like he lifted a heavy weight from my chest. Maybe tomorrow, we’ll be back to normal.
128 Days, 22 October, Wednesday
Just as I had been hoping, we were relatively back to normal today. We had our lunch together, I copied his Math work, and we did the questions for our Shakespeare assignment. Well, mostly he explained them and I wrote stuff down.
Still felt a bit awkward around him, just remembering those flames burning in his gaze when he was angry.
It was an all around good day for me, though, and I got to try out my new bike from Terra!
She brought the helmets home right after school today, and jammed one on my head while I was sitting on the couch unawares. It took some adjusting to get it on properly, and I foolishly left my hair outside the helmet. After riding to the grocery store and back, it was tangled beyond all reason, and took Terra nearly an hour to brush it all out again. Horrible.
127 Days, 23 October, Thursday
So it’s only a week until Halloween! I wonder what I should do this year! Since I’m eighteen now, I thought about going out, but then I’ll have to make a costume, and I have no idea what I’d be…
Think I’ll just stay in, maybe I can see if Noah wants to stay over or something. Could make Halloween themed food and we could watch scary movies maybe.
Actually, second thought, no scary movies. Don’t think he’s into that sort of thing. He’s even wary of knives when I’m cooking, let alone a freaky slasher flick.
He didn’t seem to mind my supernatural-themed show though, so we could watch reruns of that I guess.
126 Days, 24 October, Friday
Intensely happy to arrive at Friday this week. It seems Noah always has permission to stay over on weekends for some reason. I’m guessing his father has business to attend to out of town or something.
So just a few minutes ago, after we had supper, I gave him a massage. Had been reading a book in the waiting room at the hospital yesterday on reflexology and stuff. So I wanted to try it out.
Got him to lie down on the sofa, with his shirt off (thought about moving to my room and have him lie on my bed, but it seriously seemed way too intimate that way).
Bought this peppermint massage muscle rub stuff yesterday, so I thought I’d try it on him. Maybe it’ll make him more relaxed.
As soon as my hands touched him, he flinched away.
“Cold…” he mumbled, readjusting himself on the sofa. “I wasn’t expecting that. Excuse me.”
I chuckled, resuming and quickly rubbing it in to warm it between our skin.
“Oh…” he began, blushing
slightly, “That feels very… good.”
“I’m glad, is it helping the pain any?”
“Yes… Very relaxing…” he closed his eyes, “I’m just going to rest my eyes a moment.”
“Sure thing.” I smiled, continuing my gentle ministrations.
Felt his emotions more clearly now than I had ever before, as I rubbed his back. It’s that same security I sensed the first time he came here, except the tiny bit of fear is gone. It’s been replaced with… love? That sounds almost too cliché…
But that’s what it feels like, like happiness and comfort, and well- it’s love, how do I explain that?
Sort of poorly, apparently. It’s not the sort of thing I’ve experienced enough to accurately describe.
I ventured up his back, working on his stiff shoulder muscles. (He’s also very bony). At this, he opened his eyes and grinned at me, the pink blush settling deeply into his face.
Even though it was sideways and somewhat obscured, his grin was adorable. Up until now, it’s always been the weird awkward closed-mouth smile.
I think this grin is his real smile. It made a flare of joy ignite in my chest, and so I reciprocated it happily.
He closed his eyes again, and nuzzled his face into the pillow beneath him, smiling happily.
I think it could be called a miracle to see him here like this. I remember, the serious look on his face, so impassive and neutral, with the deep penetrating sadness hiding in his eyes. I’d like to think I’ve helped to alleviate that intense sadness, and right now seems almost like proof.
The only thing I can feel coming from him is happiness. And that’s all I’m feeling right now too. Together, like this, we’re happy.
We might be in love with each other.
125 Days, 25 October, Saturday
So despite the nice evening, where I lulled Noah to sleep with peppermint massage cream, the night was certainly scary.
It felt like I had just fallen asleep when I heard it. A weird muffled noise, like a voice yelling from far away. Lifted my head to hear better, listening intently. It really did sound like screaming.