Radio Fuzz

The Men in the Locket

Charlie turned the locket over in his hands, opening and closing the gold piece. They had been obsessed with the men in the locket for weeks, now. The men looked happy, one clearly older than the other. The men looked similar- Charlie assumed they were brothers. In the picture, the two had their arms around each other in a jovial way. They seemed young, both had grins on their faces so bright they challenged the very sun. Charlie lied on their back in the attic, twirling the locket above them. They were alone now, though June had left behind a pair of her socks from last time. 

The day was hot, as most days were. The attic was dry and dust blew through the broken windows. Charlie heaved a sigh and dropped the locket on their chest. They turned their head to the right, their eyes resting upon the old radio. It hadn't played since the last time Adam had come over. Charlie sat up and scooted towards the radio. They picket it up and looked it over. They fiddled with the antennae and tapped the broken speaker. It buzzed to life. 

"Good afternoon, folks. Quite a scorcher today, eh? Are you feeling down? Do you miss the way things used to be? Are you moving on or are you a bystander- hopeless and helpless as time unfurls? This piece is perfect for a sunny day. A duet sung solo, here is Alan and Harold." 

* * * * * * * * 

Hello, Harold. How do you do? It's quite nice outside, don't you think? Perhaps one of the best summers I've ever had- and it just started! Oh, right. You haven't actually been outside, have you? My bad. It's just, sometimes I forget, you know? I always tell you about everything and I just expect you to understand what I mean. I'm sorry, it's not fair to you.

Hello again, Harold. You're looking excellent today. Did you do something different? You know, with your. . . your, uh, print? No? Oh. Well it looks nice either way. I've got to fix that button, though. Today was rough. My boss, Josh-you know Josh, don't you? Well. There I am, filing departures when Josh walks in and he sits on my desk and he gets quiet and he says-he says I need to stop talking to you. Says it messes with your work, Alan, and that you need to be focusing more. I didn't say anything. What could I have said? Don't fret. I'll stop talking to you when hell freezes over, eh?

Hello, Harold. You know I love you, right? You know I'd never do anything to hurt you, right? Well, I've messed up I messed up bad. I didn't mean to do it! I didn't mean to hurt us. I never meant to do it. You believe me, don't you, Harold? You understand. You have to. It was three years ago, and you've forgiven me. Right? I didn't mean it. I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to I didn't mean to I didn't—

Hello, Harold. It's lovely outside right now. The sun is setting. The sky looks nice. It's gorgeous, actually. The reds look like berries and the oranges are mangoes and purple grapes all dance in the sky right now. I know you can't see them, Harold. You used to.

Julia says I should go to therapy. She's nice about it. She always is. She'll sit down next to me even though there's no room on my chair—she knows you're off limits—and lay a hand on my shoulder and she'll point to you and say, "He's not there. He hasn't been here for three years.That's not him." And I'll explain to her again the peculiar phenomenon of you. She'll nod, sigh, hand me a paper with a phone number, and tell me to think about it.

Hello, Harold. I know you don't talk much. I get that. And, it's okay to not talk much. I talk a lot. That's okay too, I guess. You still understand. Harold, I think I have to apologize. I called the number. The lady was nice. Her voice was pretty. I'm meeting with her on Thursday. That's funny, isn't it? It was a Thursday then, too.

Hello, Harold. How are you? You are looking very nice today. Did you dress up for any particular reason? Sometimes it's nice to dress up even without a reason. Your cushions seem more vibrant. Anyway, I went to my first therapy session today. My therapist had me tell her everything I know about you. So I did. I can never seem to stop talking about you, Harold. She asked me what happened to you. I told her about how you changed and how it really was something special. I told her it wasn't our faults. I told her it was supposed to happen it was time—that I didn't do it on purpose, and I tried to swerve but that you were okay and I was okay and we were all fine and—

Hello, Harold. I haven't talked to you in quite some time. What's that? Hm. I can't hear your voice well. I have missed you very much, though. I've been going to therapy. Julia says she can tell that it's helping. I don't think so. I feel sad. My therapist asked me what happened three years ago. She asks me that every time. I tell her the same thing, every time. I told her we got into an accident but that we were both okay. She shook her head and told me that you weren't okay. She said that you died. I laughed. She doesn't understand. No one does, but it's always been that way, hasn't it? You and me, against the world. Alan and Harold.

Hello, Harold. I'm sorry I don't talk as much anymore. It's been what? A month, at least. I can't hear you much. Your voice is fuzzy. I'm not doing well. I was so much better before I went to therapy. But now all I want is for things to go back to the way they were. Everyone is telling me to stop talking to you. To get rid of you. To burn the cushions and dump your wooden frame in the garbage. I don't think I will.

Hello, Harold. It's been months since I've talked to you. I don't feel any different. Just quieter. I brought you some flowers. They're lilies. You like lilies, right? I thought so, too. Here you go. It's chilly outside, now. I can see my breath. How are you? Good? That's- well, that's the best news I've heard in three years. It's getting late. Tomorrow, Julia and I are taking you to a new house. I would like your feedback, but I can't hear you anymore, but I think you would like a change of scenery. You'll see what it's like outside. But, for now, I think this is it. Good-bye, Harold.

_________

Wow, school is rough. Nevertheless, a new addition to this- whatever this is. I hope you enjoyed.