“I can’t control myself,” he sat on the couch with his elbows resting on his knees. “I lose my temper and hurt the people who are dear to me. But I don’t want that. Damn!”
“I’m not angry at you,” I said. “I just want to be a part of your life, whatever it is.” I was standing in front of him with my hands in my jacket pockets. “I have no friends, but you.”
“Me too,” he said.
5
At the end of winter, Sunny told me about her. We had lunch in the school canteen. And both ate without appetite, but for different reasons.
“Check that girl out,” Sunny said to me and nodded off to the side.
I looked in that direction and actually saw several girls. They were from senior class and had fun discussing something.
“Which one?” I asked.
“The one with long hair in a green dress.”
“I don’t see her,” I looked harder.
“C’mon, her hair is, uh, pure copper. Look! She is smiling at us,” he smiled back at someone.
But I didn’t see anybody. The girl he described was not there.
“Look, is she not a beauty?” Sunny was still smiling. “Such a kitty.”
“Kitty?” I looked around trying to find the girl he was talking about.
“Yeah, she looks like a kitty. So pretty. And her eyes are so green.”
“Sunny, there is no such girl here,” I was getting embarrassed, he was clearly hallucinating.
“But there she is! She is going away,” he jumped to his feet, probably willing to rush to her, but I held him back. “She goes to our school from the beginning of this year. I often see her during the breaks. When I see her next time, I will definitely introduce you to her.”
But there was no next time. It happened at the beginning of March. The snow had already melted, but the puddles had not dried yet, although the sun warmed like in late spring. After school, we walked home. Sunny was very excited, he chatted non-stop, tugged at my sleeve every second to show me something. Dogs, cars, people – almost everything fascinated him. He was happy as a little kid and was eager to share his observations with me. I just nodded absently and said only “yes, yes, yes”. My thoughts were busy with Annie. This morning I managed to exchange a few words with her and thought it was the greatest achievement ever.
And then I saw her. The girl, Sunny was always talking about. She really had beautiful long hair with a copper tint. She looked straight at me and smiled. I slowed down and, without taking my eyes off her, waived my hand. I wanted to pat Sunny, but he wasn’t there. I stopped. I was still holding out my hand and looking at the girl, and now there was something sinister in her smile. I wanted to call Sunny, but suddenly I heard a loud car beep, then squeal of brakes and scream.
It took me time to realize that it was me, who screamed.
Sunny was lying in the middle of the road right on the asphalt just a few feet away from a car that hit him. I rushed over to him, but everything happened somehow too slowly, as if it was not me, as if I was watching it all from the sidelines. So I run up to him. I shake his shoulder. I do not understand whether he is conscious or not. His eyes are open, but he does not blink. It seems he is not breathing. People gather around us. They talk about something. Someone is trying to lift me up, but I break away. I want to help Sunny. Someone grabs me and leads somewhere. What’s going on? I do not understand. And then comes the darkness…
I was awakened by my own voice.
“Sunny.”
I jumped up, and it turned out that I’m in my bedroom. The clock shows half past one. It’s dark outside, and it seems that it’s raining. I need to find out if that really happened or it was just a bad dream. Oh, if only it was just a dream… Repeating these words I take my mobile phone and dial Sunny’s number. Operator says the subscriber is not available. I go to my parents’ bedroom. They are asleep.
“Mom,” I touch my mother ‘s shoulder. She shrugs and continues to sleep. “MOTHER,” I shake her more aggressively.
She wakes up and looks at me. In the darkness I see her eyes widen.
“Walter,” she says in a whisper, and sits down. I see that she is scared.
“Mom, what’s happened?” I kneel beside the bed.
“Walter…” she starts to say and stops.
“What is it, Mom?”
“Walter, Sunny is gone,” she says under her breath, but I think she screams.
And this thought like a bullet pierces my brain. Sunny is gone. But I refuse to believe it.
I was wondering when this stupid dream is finally over. When I wake up and everything will be fine again. I vaguely remember those days. I practically do not remember his funeral. I remember a lot of people and a beautiful sunny morning, as if there was no that terrible injustice. I remember his face. Quiet, peaceful, almost childish. Fifteen years. Only fifteen! So little time and so many plans…
I woke up from that nap in April. I remember I was sitting on a bench in the apple garden drawing, and suddenly the realization hit me. He was really gone. In one moment, I felt desperate. And that despair was so deep and utter. As if I was at the bottom of a deep, deep pit from which there is no exit. Darkness surrounded me, and I dissolved in it. Only my heart was trying to fight back shrinking with pain. I wanted to scream. But I could not. I wanted to hide in the most secluded corner and disappear, as if I had never existed. What do I do in this world? Who needs me? That feeling of helplessness engulfed me. I could not change anything, fix it, turn back the clock! World has faded without him. I will never see him again. I will never hear his voice, his laughter. We will never walk together after school, and he will never chat about his grand plans again.
I wanted to howl and climb the walls. I stopped eating and sleeping. If I fell asleep I dreamed the same dream. The garden covered with white snow and he on his knees, his back turned to me. I came up to him, he was cold and still. And I woke up screaming.
6
One night, I was drawing my comic book by the light of a lamp. I was trying to portray my beautiful Amazon in the heat of the battle with some absolutely disgusting monster, but nothing came out. I wasted a dozen of sheets and tore the last one. I got really angry.
The door opened and in came the mother. I pretended not to notice her, took a new sheet of paper and drew some squiggle on it. Mother sat on the edge of the bed. She was looking at me without saying a word. I drew another squiggle and it became an outline of the face.
“Walter,” mother said quietly.
I did not respond, sketched a couple of strokes that turned into stiff upper lip and nose.
“I know it’s hard,” she said.
Well, yes. But. In our family there was no such habit as to communicate with each other. Each of us lived his own life and I was perfectly fine with it. No need to break the tradition.
I carefully drew one eye, then the other. Meantime she kept saying some useless stuff, like I should open up my soul, she understands me and wants to help me, and she is ready to listen to all my problems. No way!
I added the eyelashes, then thought and made them longer.
You were never interested in my problems before, and now all of a sudden they became very important.
“I know a very good doctor.”
Stop. Doctor?
I was going to finish curls, but at the mention of some Doctor my pencil hovered in the air, and I listened.
“Albert is very good doctor, he works with adolescents for almost twenty years. He is a psychologist and kids love him.”
Albert, a psychologist, kids…