My Short Stories

What the World Needs Now

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It is the first of January: the start of a new year. The house is a mess and I'm cleaning and tidying ferociously. The kids are outside playing in the snow. James is in bed with a hangover. I feel alone.

       I look out the window at little Dylan and Alex and Beth. Dylan and Alex roll about, ruining the smooth white blanket that had laid beneath them. They throw snowballs at each other and the neighbours, delight gleaming in their eyes. Beth hides behind a tree, peeping out cautiously. When David catches her she squeals with happiness. Beth and David are best friends. They're only six years old and they're inseparable. It reminds me of when I was her age. I had my own best friend too, Matt. Thinking about him, I duck  my head, tears welling up in my eyes.

       I remember when I was only seven. It was a long, long time ago and I sometime wonder how I can remember something so simple that happened so far back. I guess it was just a happy time for me. I remember it was a roasting day. The baking sun looked like a yellow beach ball kicked high into the forget-me-not blue sky. It was dazzling. The scent of freshly cut grass filled my nostrils. I remember hiding beside the house, ducking down, hidden behind a potted plant. My eyes were closed and I could hear my own heartbeat, when I felt the sudden freezing cold water splash over my head and I shrieked. I remember jumping around and seeing Matt, a water gun in his hand, an evil grin on his face,

       He looked so happy, so healthy, that I'd treasure that moment forever, the details of the mischievous twinkle in his eye and the dimples in his cheeks engraved into my mind.

       I moved away two years later. I was only nine, so I wasn't so devastated about losing my best friend. I had even almost forgotten about him, until we moved back.

       I was sixteen now. I wasn't that little girl he used to see anymore. He still has that mischievous twinkle though. He had the dimples too. I remember when he first held my hand, the coarse feeling of it surprising me. It was nice though, like his hands were meant to hold mine. I remember we walked around school like this and our friends whistled and joked and winked and smiled at us because they knew we were meant to be together. We were joined at the hip. We talked and talked all day. I remember kissing him and dancing with him, even when there was no music playing. We laughed until we cried. It was those simple things that made our relationship so perfect.

       It was two years later now. I was eighteen. We still lived with our parents but we were out together every night. We basically lived together. I remember waiting at his house for Matt to get ready. His parents made small talk with me, but their eyes were heavy and tired. The bags under their eyes dragged down their whole faces, the lives sucked out of them. I was getting bags under my own eyes too, but I refused to get wearied out.  I couldn't let it get to me. Yes, there were nights when I cried myself to sleep but I always beated myself up the next day about it, chiding myself for being so self-pitying when Matt needed my support. I had to pretend I was okay with it all, act like nothing was wrong, but really I was just waiting for it all to be over so I could finally open my eyes from all the fear I was hiding from. I thought it was as hard as it could get. When people asked me how he was getting on, I bit my tongue and said he was fantastic. What did I care if they believed me or not?

       Finally, his parents left the room and Matt entered. I found my eyes being forced to look up at his shiny, bony head. I could see each vein that made its way through the crown. There wasn't a hair left. His eyebrows seemed invisible and his eyelashes were even getting fairer.

       I gasped, my hand clasping around my mouth. He looked so different, so small, so sick. It made me sick. The dimples in his cheeks were gone and instead they were sucked in and hollow.

       That was the first time I broke down in front of Matt. My whole body was heaving and tears saturated my skin. I remember making him cry too. We both sat there, holding on to each other, crying our hearts out. I shook and twitched uncontrollably until I was at the point where I was angry. I shouted at him, blaming him for making me love him. To everyone, I was a lost cause, being so desperately in love with a guy who wasn't going to live to see marriage. I was sick of being pitied. I was sick f people staring and pretending I didn't hear them talk. I remember demanding of him to take me home.

       He tried to talk to me, tell me he was sorry, but I wouldn't say a word to him in case I'd say something I'd regret, like that it was over. I told him to leave, then stormed up to my room, too proud to admit I felt stupid. I kept staring at the phone but it didn't ring. I went over everything I had said. I remembered the slamming doors and how angry I was. I tossed and turned in bed. It was three in the morning and I finally looked out the window. Parked outside the front gate was Matt's rusty old car. He had a blanket drawn over him but he wasn't asleep either. He was looking up at my window and when we caught eyes, I saw the mischievous twinkle come back.

       Matt died when I was twenty-five of leukaemia, this day twenty years ago. At first I couldn't do anything. I was like a homeless soul, only feeling at home when I was with him. His memory broke my heart countless times. I found myself repeating myself whenever I talked. There were no meaning for my words anymore. I thought I couldn't be fixed. I was torn apart. My hands only agreed to hold his hands. They didn't want to be without them. I could still feel his kiss on my lips. I remembered those simple things until I cried.

       Now, at forty-five, I can say his name easily and I don't see him in my head all the time. I laugh louder. I am married. I've moved on. However, whenever my husband holds my hand I feel a tear in my eye because his hand doesn't fit into mine the way Matt's did. What my world needs now is for Matt to be here.