Randy is a boy capable of communicating with his own shadow.
He thought he might've gone crazy at first, he thought only kids had imaginary friends, but this was a different case. This, whatever it really was, had been doing all it could to keep co...
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He appeared weary, and older than what he probably should. His hair was long, grayed. His eyes held a distant, almost fearful gaze, encircled by deep, dark shadows. Face consumed, as well as his whole flesh. He was thin and his white pants were loose over him. This was not the man I had envisioned, not the faint memory I held. But what could I even expect? I only wanted to meet him, and this was him. He was too different from the man I vaguely remembered.
My hands trembled, seeking refuge within the folds of my sleeves as I faced him, unable to meet his gaze once I realized he, too, was staring at me.
"Hello, Dad," Rudolph spoke first.
"Boys," his voice cracked with emotion, "I'm so sorry."
His unexpected apology caught me off guard, stirring conflicting emotions within me.
"You don't have to apologize," I blurted out, driven by a sudden impulse to soothe him, though I questioned the validity of my words. Rud also seemed a bit shocked by my outburst.
He then continued to whisper, his words barely audible amidst the heaviness of the room. Glancing at Rudolph for guidance, I found myself at a loss for what to do. Where to stare? What to say? I don't know, and for the first time I think, Rud knows either. Our father's murmurs kept filling the room.
Curiosity gnawed at me – what affliction had brought him to this place? Perhaps I could ask Rudolph later, once the visit had passed.
Amidst his fragmented whispers, only one phrase punctuated the silence: 'No, I must...'
I was just wondering what could that mean, when his murmurs became louder.
"I... shouldn't have... Everything was my fault..." he confessed, his gaze piercing between Rudolph and me. "Your brother remembers, but you don't."
His sudden attention jolted me.
"Rudolph," he spoke as he got closer to the barrier, placing his hands in the glass, "could you give us a moment alone?" He pleaded.
I watched as Rudolph tensed visibly, his reluctance palpable. "I don't think so," he muttered.
"Please," my father implored, his desperation evident.
Rudolph looked at me, worry evident in his eyes. He didn't want to leave me alone, and I wasn't sure either if it would be a good idea to be left alone with him.
Despite that, I needed to talk to him, but I didn't know how or where to start. If Rud left us alone, maybe that would help, or maybe not. It was hard to think at this moment. And I could only look at Rud, who knew me better than I knew myself.
He finally sighed, "that's definitely not a good idea."
"What are you afraid of?" dad asked tentatively.
"Don't misunderstand, it's his first time here."
"And I'm his father."
"Yeah, but you're—" he paused just before he finished what he was about to say, shifting uncomfortably.
