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Do You Know What I Mean?
She felt awkward listening to him talk so seriously, especially as no one, as far as she knew, had died. Sitting across from him, such a beautiful boy, she moved her eyes to the right. Pause. To the left. Pause. To the middle where his eyes stared blankly, as if looking through her.
“Did they say anything else about Yowl’s Reef?” he asked, sticking his hands underneath his legs.
“I told them I didn’t care and that it wasn’t any of my business.”
“I didn’t want to, you know.”
“Don’t tell me anymore.” She covered her ears with her hands. Like the hollow echo in a seashell. “Seriously, I don’t.”
“I didn’t mean for it to happen. They dared me and I didn’t have time to think.”
“Dares are designed for idiots.”
“Nothing really bad happened.”
“They’re not all there, you know.” She twirled a few pieces of her hair. “So weird.”
They sat on the bed in silence, looking around her bedroom. She stared at a picture of an old outhouse her mother had snapped last summer. He wondered, as always, what was stored inside the big wooden armoire.
“Was it worth it?” she asked, scooting closer to him. “Now that the deed’s done.”
She did know. He sighed, and said, “It was as fantastical as it was dreadful.”
“I’m so glad I wasn’t there.”
“You should be. You wouldn’t have enjoyed seeing it at all.”
“So, it wasn’t fantastical.”
“It was fully fantastical, but I know you. You’d have been really freaked out.”
“I don’t freak out that easily.”
“Boo.”
She jumped.
He laughed. “See.”
“That’s not fair. I wasn’t prepared.”
“Neither was I.” He stood. “Not for the feelings part afterward, that’s for sure.”
“Feelings part?” She stood, taking his hands into her own.
“You know, remorse, remuneration, redemption.”
“So, you are sorry for what you did?”
“Sorry.” He squeezed her hands. “No. That’s not the feeling.”
“Were you guys paid for doing it?”
“I did feel remorse though.” He sighed. “But only after the redemption.”
“Redemption means salvation and salvation means brand new so you feel brand new, right?”
“I feel fantastical, really.”
“But brand new.” She squeezed harder. “Right?”
“Like a clean slate.” He crawled out the window onto the roof. He turned and faced her thin silhouette darkening the window frame. “You wanna know what I felt more than anything else during this whole nightmare?”
She did and she didn’t. “Careful or you’re going to fall.”
He pretended to lose his grip.
“That’s not funny.”
“It’s kind of funny.”
“No. It’s not a bit funny.”
“That’s what I felt more than anything,” he said, disappearing from sight.
She heard him land on the bushes below. She saw his shadow run down the street like a thief in the night. He had, after all, stolen her heart, the one thing she had told him, right from the start, so long ago, he could have for free if he’d just stop stealing life from everyone else’s hearts.
Samuel Cole is an event planner who lives in Woodbury, MN. He enjoys running, STEP Class, art, music, friends, and, of course, writing.
Email: Samuel Cole
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