5
“I have a plan, a big one”
We were sitting on the edge of the sidewalk, the cigarettes were coming to an end. The beers were semi-empty and we were thirty blocks from our houses and we couldn't drive. Or look for transport to take us, the mind was cotton and the eyes were colours that did not exist.
His hair was shorter every day and it felt normal to see the clothes grow on him with the scent of burnt plants that stuck to his skin.
The red eyes and the dry skin, the arches with fatigue. They were something of every day, what was abnormal these days were the good ones. Those of alcohol, long nights, smoke in the lungs, sweaty bodies, old cars and loose lips.
"Illegal?"
I looked at him, smiling, the last of the honest ones. He had a drink of his now hot beer while he looked at the stars that were already starting to disappear.
The cars passed every twenty minutes and at some point, we had started walking somewhere. Yet, we were still sitting there by the time the sun came out.
“Completely"
That morning the doors were closed, the steps were rushed, people shouted, knocked and howled. However, no one answered, we only felt the tension, the despair, the trouble in the movements, in the actions.
And through the window of the door, only the white could be seen moving. Words shouted, lost, abused and there was chaos.
We all understood that but no one knew who. There was an expectation, an opinion that was shouted among all. Fear of the possibilities and knowledge, until it was only static silence.
Open doors, cleanliness and whiteness.
Nobody was shouting anymore, nobody was talking, but we were all counting.
One was missing.
That night we met in his room, his hands and legs were tied to the bed and his eyes were fixed to the ceiling.
It was easy to understand that the terror in my bones was sustained, and there was no need to ask the open door in such a situation. There were no questions to ask that they were only a waste of words and time.
I sat down as he had done a few weeks ago.
With my hand playing with the sugar packet and we were both silents until the sun started to rise. I started to leave, the door almost closed, when the old and worn voice formed like an echo in my mind
"Today we tried mirrors”
I was reading in the studio, on the old sofa that my mother used to hide when there were visitors.
As it was not one of those that should be seen. Even if it was more comfortable than those modern that demonstrated the social class we occupied in the city.
The papers that I kept with me were resting on my belly while reading a science fiction book.
It was one of the days when my father and I were alone in the house
"Today I saw the Bruhl, it seemed they were taking the car to the mechanic"
My father had sat in front of me, with a cup of tea in his hands and the glasses resting on his head. His eyes were tired and his clothes were wrinkled, it was the definition of a Friday and the absence of my mother.
"Interesting"
My eyes were still in the book, although I had begun to repeat the reading of the same paragraph. Unable to grasp the meaning of a simple word.
"The strange thing is that the car was not theirs, it was an old one, it seemed familiar but I didn’t know from where maybe you know it?"
I looked into his eyes that were fixed on me, waiting, anxious for the answer he had already taken for me. I had decided I couldn’t read anymore, I got up with the papers in the same hand of the book.
“It doesn’t ring a bell”
I was sitting with my back straight, hands on my legs and waiting for either of us to speak. However the minutes began to pass, my hands began to move.
He slid down his chair while people moved, left, arrived, greeted, talked, existed.
And we were still silent, my shoulders dropped, bored at the moment with words to say. Yet, I didn't move my lips, we were in the last minutes, the last chance.
I looked at him sideways and saw his profile, sharp angles with the still soft and delicate face. Gentle with sadness and anger in his tracks, I watched him look at the window
"I see you can see your reflection"
His eyes closed but his face didn't change his position and when his eyes opened his reflection would still be there. His memory would be there.
“I passed the test"
The voice was still raw, dry and difficult to hear, however, it began to show gentleness, began to heal.
"How is he?"
There was one hour left of the visits and we talked for ten minutes of the wounds in our relationships.
With Koi, we had escaped during one of my parents' scheduled lunches. Where once again I had to smile and give automatic responses.
Although with deviations and turns, we had moved away enough from the house to not be able to arrive on time. To then listen to the complaints and comments that would leave me in the darkness and silence of their disapproval.
What I hadn't realized, following Koi, who was scared of cars and dogs smaller than him. That we had ended up in front of high bars with grey walls and trees that moved with the wind and people who did not speak. There were flowers at each door, words written in permanent ink in small and large houses.
We were walking in silence, side by side, with our eyes on the floor. We passed the houses, the statues, the words and we reached a part of the land.
And there it was, with daffodils and tulips, the cross in front of the wet earth and the empty seat. Where everything was still fresh and new. I collapsed there, cross-legged, Koi's head resting on my lap moaning slightly.
"It's been a while"
I smiled, with my hands buried on Koi's black fur, and looked at the letters, read and re-read them.
I recognised them and my heart was hollow, there was no sound. It was all static, my eyes were burning, my lips were bleeding and my hands were trembling
“I made a new friend”
Tears ran, hands trembled, my breathed shook yet words escaped my lips.
The cold was leaving and the heat was entering our bones, the white was in a fight with the green and my eyes woke up from the sleep.
Whiteness was another colour in between the pink, red, green and brown. It was a memory and a nightmare that drowned me in closed doors and questions that never ended. With medications that stuck to the throat and clothes that harassed the skin.
It was late and we had gone to one of the small yards, where people didn't go. Because the sun was between the clouds and the wind was cold. We were sitting in the chairs, it was one of the rare days where we crossed during the afternoon. He had his dark circles and I had my trembling hands. Our eyes were avoiding each other and the two walked to breathe.
We were sitting on the steps, barefoot in the cold of the earth where we could close our eyes and pretend we were anywhere but in the white.
I felt it in minutes, seconds and hours, a bounce, a brush, a move. I saw it in the corner of my eye.
The moving of the fingers so agile in the legs at their sides. They would bent, interwoven, dance elegant, with angles and experience.
The calm face and a smile hidden in the lips.
"In three days I'm leaving"
We were eating, my mother was reading some messages on her cell phone, my father's eyes were fixed on the TV. While I played with what was left of food on my plate.
We had fallen into the routine, accustomed to the pills, the nightmares. Even the silence was already normal. There were only my mother's eyes on my hands, my father's pats on the back and the echo of the rules.
“What?!”
They had paused their actions, their eyes on me, their body in my direction and the word was mine.
I was prepared for this, my body vibrated in excitement, my hands were sweating and my lips had small bruises. Even so, I stood firm when I looked them in the eye.
“I am giving notice, that in a few days I will be going on a trip, I still don't know where. I have money and I will keep in touch ”
I said it as fast as I could, grabbing the last bite of my food and getting up. My father was cleaning his glasses while my mother looked at me with a thin line of lips.
“Are you mad?"
My mother's voice that sounded cold had a tremor, a betrayal of worry, fear and knowing the answer I gave as I left the room.
From the room songs from "The Lumineers" came out, Giselle was sitting in an armchair in a corner. Singing the song lowly while reading a medical magazine, with her legs raised on the opposite chair. She had her hair in a ponytail and tiredness in her eyes, she smiled at me as she saw me walk in.
I sat in the chair next to his bed, his skin was pale, breathing driven by machines and eyes close. The dull hair and veins highlighting his path, even then being Sebastian's mirror.
At that time, they may be two different people. Yet they still were one mirror.
"He is asking for you"
I rested my elbows on my knees and moved closer to him, the window behind me was open. From there came a spring breeze that cleaned the scent of disinfectant in the room.
"He's better, clean ... still blames himself, but he is learning to accept it, to see the full picture ... baby steps"
The songs passed, Giselle left the room. I looked out the window and the sound of the machines was heard under the music, I stayed for a few minutes to an hour.
"I will take care of him"
I left behind a paper with my cell phone number for Giselle.
The day was cloudy, trees swayed with the wind, people walked briskly in the town. The cars passed every fifteen minutes and I had been parked for two hours, waiting.
I had arrived ahead of time. I had left behind Koi with the Bruhl and some things of mine, as I had also taken advantage of leaving at the time my parents were gone.
Leaving the letter and two voice messages, I had the backpack stored in the trunk of the car. The car that Thomas had been working on before everything, one it was just two days of been complete.
At two hours and fifteen minutes, the passenger door opened and closed. We were looking at the street, he turned on the radio and "Fleetwood Mac" was playing.
He put a red sugar packet next to a blue one.
We were on the roof, it was a summer night, both against the wall, shoulders bumping.
We shared a green jelly, the legs stretched and the words have been already telling. Dawn was approaching with every minute and we knew that this was goodbye.
The stars shone brighter in front of our eyes, we could name constellations and we got to see a shooting star. It was a night that justified whiteness and life.
"I have a plan"
His had finished eaten his jelly, his eyes were closed, the only betraying in his wake was the movement of his chest.
"What plan?"
I laughed softly, looking at the stars, his voice still hoarse and I felt his gaze on me. I pulled my knees to my head where I put my head to look at him.
“I call it: The great escape”
T.A.