Rest

"Can we go to the park?" Alex asked. I'm looking after him today since his reliever teacher has covid, his Dad's working and I have the day off. "Pleeeeeeeease?"

"Sure," I smile and the nine-year-old cousin of mine rushes outside to grab his bike. Awkwardly, I shove it into the back of my small car and hope the neighbours didn't see how I made something so simple look so difficult.

We arrive at the city central park ten minutes later, the bike comes out easier than it went in and Alex is fastening his helmet under his chin. There's a gap. Big enough that I can fit my whole fist into.

"Wait a sec." I tighten the helmet enough so that if Alex gets into a serious accident, at least I'm confident his brain will stay inside his head.

He takes off, pedalling into the distance along the path that splits the park into two perfect halves from its grand entrance. I briefly glance over the iron plaque on the red brick gates and hold back a grin from the word erected in amongst the official statement of when and who the park was made for. I'm not twelve, I swear.

It's cold today. I can feel it through my jeans and my thighs don't appreciate it. I worked out at nine a.m and it was leg day. Lung day would've been preferable. Y'know- just breathing. That's tomorrow, though. But today was leg day. And it's still leg day because I'm walking hurriedly to keep up with Alex who's long gone and up around the corner and he's nine, smart, knows Kung Fu (three whole weeks of it), he can take care of himself, stop worrying.

Then I heard it. A sound I wasn't expecting to hear that day or any day.

"Love you," you said.

I know it's you. That unmistakable tone to your 'u' sound. Slightly drawn out. The little nervous laugh you give after saying such a thing.

I know. I know it's you because you used to say those words to me.

You're ending a phone call with whoever it is that you love and your bag comes swinging around from your shoulder to the ground. You're stopped. Standing there staring down at your phone. You might be able to see me. From the angle you're facing, you can certainly make out the shape of me as I continue to walk ahead. I know you do. You're not as naive as some people may have believed you to be.

Alex is probably at the playground now. You're still standing there, texting someone by the way your thumbs move upon your screen but I don't dare look at your face. I can't risk the eye-contact. Because if your eyes meet mine, what do you expect me to do? Smile? Cry? Both? I look at the pavement instead, seeing where it curves right to take me to the playground.

One second. Two seconds. Three and I'm not stopping to talk to you. I half consider it. I want to. Maybe I need to. Maybe I'm tired of this silence. Maybe I don't like being a stranger when my name was once tattooed on the underside of your arm. Is it still? Do you continue to hold me that close to you? Or did you cover it up with something like I am with the hood of my sweatshirt as I hide my face and take that turn to the playground.

Alex has abandoned his bike near the slide and is running off toward the swings. I push him to get him started. Not that he needs me to, but it's bonding time so neither of us are against it. And then I sit, watching Alex but thinking about you. My cousin is a blur of black, blue and pink; a swinging bruise from the corner of my eye. The squeaking of the swing fades away and I don't know what I want.

Do I want you to walk through that forest clearing up ahead?

"Hey," you might say. "I saw you back there. Wanna talk?"

And I might smile, cry, both.

"Okay," I would say.

Alex would play in the distance and we would sink away from everyone and everything and maybe both of us could have closure.

I could say that I'm sorry.

You could say why you never replied to my messages.

You could explain why we seemed fine and then suddenly we weren't.

You could kill this silence.

This rest in the middle of a song.

It was never silent when you were around.

You were loud.

You're still loud.

The way you said "love you" to whoever was on the phone, the whole park could have heard you; the extrovert who adopted me only to make me an orphan once more.

It's weird, you see.

For someone who talked so much, you have very little to say now.

Was it my fault?

Was it yours?

I knew almost everything about you.

Your grief. Your joy. Your pleasures.

You knew mine.

We were so intimately aware of each other.

I know you saw me. You know I saw you. You heard the silence too, didn't you?

"Can we go see the birds now?!" Alex jumps from the swing, ready to go.

"Sure," I smile.

You don't walk through to the playground. I don't see you at the aviary. I don't see you where I saw you. I don't hear you, either. The silence is deafening. I hadn't noticed it for so long until I heard it today. As I drive home with Alex pleasantly tired in the passenger seat, I contemplate letting you go entirely. But now that I'm home and writing this, I can't.

Do I want your love again? No.

I just want us to wrap up this song that we started. Even if it ends in a minor key, having begun in major, that's better than hanging on this rest that split our song in two.

"Do you not write anymore?" Alex asks me later as he's helping me with the dishes.

"I do. I'm just tired from writing my previous story."

"Oh." He looks back to the cup he's drying and I can see his little mind ticking over with another question. "So you're taking a rest then?"

I pause, smiling a secret smile at the soapy water. "Yeah," I nod. "I'm taking a rest."