Bits 'n' pieces

I Can Remember

[Sits backwards in chair facing audience. Sighs and swirls liquid in glass]

I can remember. The memory feels as if it was happening right before me still. I viewed it in slow motion. Over and over and over and over again. [Raises head in excitement} Oh! If only it were really happening again right now: I could do something!

[Defeated sigh and lowered head again]

But it's not. It's just a memory – just a stain of red on white innocence.

[Short pause, far off look, thinking, cup placed on table]

[Smiles fondly at memories] I can remember. We were young boys, not yet grown into our handsome. We skipped along like the children we were, happy and oblivious – living in our own fantasy world. Our milk cans, pea tins, and jam pots performed as if they were a marching band, loud and relentless. They could have been louder than the thunder that was sure to accompany the dark grey clouds, folding around themselves, gently riding along a path of air. They took the form of a predator, patiently waiting for its prey. Watching and waiting. Watching and waiting. When the time was right – when its prey was in place – it'd strike. Unleashing the waves of ice-cold daggers, the loud roars hidden in the grey, the occasional shadow casted by the atmospheric electricity.

But nothing could hurt us, right?

I can remember. We had trekked through the wet grass of the previous rain. We rounded the fields of hay and corn where men worked, carrying the armour of sweat on their chests. We followed the gutters of the roads as men and women drove passed in their monsters called technology. But finally, finally, we reached the fields of purple, red, and green.

I can remember. We had entered the fields of blackberries, cans, tins, and pots in hand. We had found our first pick. Glossy and purple. Ripe and sweet-smelling. You told me to eat it because I was the one to pick it. I looked at the hopeful smile you wore as you ushered me on with the movement of your hands. I think that was the first time. The first time I had asked myself,

[Look of confusion]

"How could life be so unforgiving to a boy who had only aimed to help his family – going out every day and working to put food on the table when it wasn't his job?"

I can remember. I had surrendered to your commands and ate the berry. The juices spread across my tongue like soldiers invading lands, though there wasn't much of a fight. The thickened wine made from the summer's blood was a welcomed taste. There was an uncontrolled lust for more, so we picked, and picked. And picked. Until our cans were full, over-flowing even.

[Light chuckle]

We tried to pick them all up without spilling the flooding droplets of purple. However, our efforts proved fruitless.

[Light-heartedness fades]

I can remember. We had called it a day. Like the men in the fields we wore our armour of sweat with pride. We had worked for our gold like they had. With cans, tins, and pots in hand, we were on our way. Once again, we trekked through the wet grass and the fields of hay and corn – however, no man was to be seen. We followed the roads, as usual.

[Grave expression, small pause]

Never again will I trek that path.

I can remember. It was the time of peak hour traffic. The adults were in their cars. They were anxious. They all just wanted to see their families. My friend shared the same feeling. He was excited to show them all the purple and red treasure he had picked. It's funny: his family isn't very fortunate when it comes to finances, but they get along like they have gold mines in their yard. Whereas, the more fortunate families are the opposite, striving for more and more money.

Quite the idea.

I can remember. [Voice raises] How could I forget? He smiled like he had won a million dollars, despite the sky that was now spitting, the predator readying to pounce. The downpour of the sky's tears was a foreshadowing. It was warning me.

[Voice drops, shoulders shrug]

But it was too late...

[Shakes head as if shaking away a memory]

I can remember. I had watched as the car had lost its control. The rain turned its wheels. He didn't want to go that way. [Little desperation in tone] He didn't mean it.

But even so, a child against a car.

I can remember. Berries scattered across the road. Colours of purple, red, and green mixing with the tears of the sky and my own.

I can remember. There was fear. There was anger. There was devastation.

[Voice raises, annoyed and furious]

He just wanted to see his family! I had screamed at the sky. I wanted to hear the answer of the man he believed in so much to protect him and his family.

[Voice softens] But it was nothing but a lie. [Voice rises] He didn't protect them! If he did, my friend wouldn't have been there that day, struggling to keep that smile on his face as he prayed for some scraps to be put on the table. He was the predator. And he had made his strike.

[Soft voice, tears coming, looking into cup again, swirling it]

I can remember. I lost my best friend to a harsh reality. A reality that stole away that white film over my vision, staining it red. It took my innocence and shoved me into a cold-hearted world. It trapped me in a place where the predator now continuously claws at the hole in my chest. It's so painful. [Desperate with tears] I want back my innocence. It's too hard. I don't want to be in this world anymore.

[Deep breath. Calm voice. Places cup on table again]

I can remember. That night I was filling the bath with my pick from that day. I sat back against the locked door. I pulled my knees up close, lowered my head, and I prayed to that child's make-believe god.

I can remember. I had looked at the berries in hopes of lifting my shattered spirit. I wanted to taste the sweetness of summer's blood one last time... Because I know I will never again be able to taste the small piece of heaven after this day. However, I was greeted with a rat-grey fungus. The juices were stinking too. The sweetness had turned sour. I felt like crying. It was like... when he left... he took all the goodness of the world with him.

[Voice raises] It's not fair!

[Voice calms] Never... will I be able to rid myself of the red that has stained my memories. Whether it be from the berries or my passed friend.