Written 2006

Character Sketch I: Sebastian Quinn

It’s a view not very many people get to see, because not very many people are inclined to jump fences. It’s the only way to get there, you know. You walk through the graveyard, you climb up a hill, you jump a fence, and there you are… The world is spread out in front of you, a landscape of flickering lights that smother the stars and try to become an artificial celestial city. That’s all it is… Artificial.

Lately, I’ve found it’s easier to pretend things. It’s become a sort of game, pretending. Right now I’m pretending like I’m waiting for somebody. They left a note in my mailbox, telling me to meet them here. I can’t remember who, or for what reason, but they told me to meet them here. So I’m pretending to wait.

Above me, the sky is black, except over the city it is orange. Above the graveyard and above me, it’s black. You can’t see any stars, and I try not to believe that they’ve all disappeared. I try to believe that it’s only light pollution, that the stars will come back someday, when I’ve gone. No, never mind, that’s not something I want to believe. I lie down and stare at the darkness above me. Sometimes, the wind comes along and blows locks of dark hair into my eyes. I think it’s trying to prevent me from seeing something I don’t want to, something I shouldn’t see. I close my eyes instead.

Suddenly, I get scared. I remember Sarah’s funeral, the way she just lay there and didn’t move at all, and I think of her in the graveyard I passed, and I think of me, lying there, and how I could be just as still, just as dead. I get scared for Sarah, because I don’t know if she knows she’s dead. The game suddenly isn’t fun anymore.

I open my eyes and sit up, but it makes me dizzy. I think my body feels just as sick as my mind does. My stomach is a thunderstorm and my bones feel uneasy. I can’t remember the last time I ate, or saw myself in a mirror. I guess pretending to be a ghost has been my most recent game, but it’s getting harder and harder not to play.

Somewhere in the distance is the sound of sirens, and I pretend they’re for me. I imagine calling out, “I’m over here!” I imagine the ambulance floating up the hill to me, and then…. And then, I don’t know. I don’t know what happens after that, so the ambulance goes back to its place in the distance and I remain quiet.

But then I do hear something, the sound of footsteps wading through dry weeds. I turn my head to face my new visitor, remembering the note I imagined earlier. I smile at her, pretending like I’m not exhausted, not hungry, not confused, not lost. I smile at her and I say, “Good evening, Sarah, I’ve missed you.”

And then the sky above me crashes down and paints everything black.

Character Sketch III: Sarah

It’s an indescribably beautiful day. They had said that it was going to snow, but the clouds have moved away. The ponds all are frozen and children stumble with ice skates, trying to find some sort of balance on the bumpy, slippery ice. I watch them as they fall, and I want to help them up, but it is none of my business to interfere like that. There are some things people need to learn on their own. There are some things people need to come to terms with on their own.

We sip hot cider together, Sebastian and I, and there is something I need to tell him, but I can’t. Not on a day like this, not when we’re like this. I’ve never been one for farewells, and Sebastian is not the kind to understand the movement of a hand waving goodbye, so I can’t bring myself to tell him. Maybe this is something he needs to understand on his own. Maybe this is something I need to understand on my own.

For a while we just discuss small things. I examine the patterns on my mittens and realize he is not wearing any. I suggest to him the purchase of warmer clothes, and he laughs and shrugs it off. I laugh, too, but for some reason I want to help in something small like that. Small things like that are easier to handle.

I can’t pretend like I’m not afraid, but over time the fear has begun to fade, or I’ve become numb to it. I don’t think Sebastian realizes what it’s like to be numb, and I never want him to. Something about the word, even, is uncomfortable. But I laugh with him. I laugh with him today like I’ve laughed with him in the past. It’s a different kind of laugh with him, with him it’s real.

I smile, and say something petty, like, “Let’s go to the top of the hill.” He knows what hill I mean, because we’ve spent lifetimes up there. I want to spend an eternity up there, and I think I might… But it’s not something I expect him to understand.

That night we rode the Ferris wheel. I suppose I should have told him then, when we were only inches from the sky. I could have explained it to him then, given him something to believe in. But it started to snow, and I would have done anything to not come back down. But inevitably, we did.

I walk him to his house and watch him go inside. I stay outside his door, watching his bedroom light until it turns off and I think he’s asleep. I walk to the hill alone, regretting that I never said a word of it. I guess I have a lot of regrets. I guess that’s why people do this sort of thing. Regrets pile up, and you can’t sort them out quick enough to escape new ones from showing up. I tried painting him a picture, but the lines were awkward and out of place. I tried to tell him, but I couldn’t form the words, and he wouldn’t have understood. I wrote him a letter, but none of the words made any sense, and I threw it away before it made it to his mailbox. I leave him with nothing, and I regret it.

I stay on the hill all night, until I fall asleep. I can’t wake up, and I don’t. For some reason, the cold has become warm and comfortable, and waking up seems out of the question. The snow made me a quilt of stars for me, and for once, on my own, I am at peace.

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