Bring Glory(Us) Life

Chapter 13- The Meaning of Pain

        “Checkmate,” Kilay said, putting down the piece on one of the black and white tiles, knocking Lachlan’s king over in victory. “Haha. See, my body may be failing me but my mind is still sharp.” Lachlan frowned at the delicately carved chess pieces; he had been sure he would win. Over the past few weeks he had discovered his competitive side, and how much he hated to lose.

        “That was just lucky, play again,” he commanded, setting up the board. Lachlan had been taught chess by one of his father’s friends, saying it was a good skill for a businessman to have. The boy had practiced for years, and thought himself pretty good, until he met Kilay. Apparently having a deadly disease gave her plenty of time as a child to play games.

        “It’s good to see you getting excited about something,” Kilay said, watching the boy. He glared at her.

        “I’m not excited, I just think you got lucky, that’s all. I never lose in chess.” The young woman smiled at him.

        “Whatever you say, Lock Man.”

        “I wish you would stop calling me weird names,” Lachlan hissed, placing the last piece down. “It’s Lachlan.” Kilay flicked a peanut at him, still grinning.

        “Why? It’s a show of affection. It means I like you. You shouldn’t get upset about that.”

        “Yeah, well, I do, so stop it.” Kilay dug through the bowl of nuts on the coffee table, picking out a good sized almond.

        “You seriously need to grow a pair, kiddo,” she said, launching the almond at him. “‘Sticks and stone may break my bones’, as they say.” Lachlan dodged this time, knowing what was coming.

        “You’re like a child, like an annoying little sister,” he said, slamming down his first play, shaking the board. “Your move.” Kilay surveyed the board, an amused smile dancing over her lips as she considered her options. She was quite perceptive, Lachlan had discovered, and good at predicting far into a game.

        The alarm for her medication went off and she rose, delaying her move further. Lachlan frowned.

        “Just go already, cheater,” he called halfheartedly, trying to make the short, crisp laughing sound his companion did when she harassed others, and failed. He wasn’t very good at prodding people like Kilay was. The almost smile hovering on his lips died as he watched her inject her medication again.

        “Doesn’t it hurt?” he asked when she returned, flopping onto a pillow on the ground, back resting on the couch.

            “Yeah, but I’m used to it.”

          It must get old, always being this way,” he said, fingering his empty glass anxiously. Kilay shrugged.

            “I’ve always been sick, I haven’t ever known anything else. It’s like people who are born blind; they’ve never known what it’s like to see, so they don’t miss out on it, because they don’t even know what they’re missing. Being sick is just...normal for me.”

          "And the pain? Do you ever just...” he trailed off, not sure what he was trying to say. Kilay smiled at him, resting her arm and chin on the tabletop, eyes fixed on the chess match.

            “To me, pain is a good thing.” Lachlan raised his eyebrows in surprise.

           “How in the world can pain be good? It-it’s pain, I don’t know,” he said, tripping over his words. Kilay reached out, fingering her pawn thoughtfully.

            “Because pain means that I’m still alive,” she said, and it was like a blow to Lachlan’s gut.

            “I-I never thought of it that way,” he said. Kilay met his gaze, grinning.

        “Careful, your empathetic side is showing,” she teased. Lachlan blushed, turning away.

        “Shut up, I don’t know what you’re talking abou—just play the damn game, ok?” He grabbed his glass and rose, stomping into the kitchen to refill it. Opening her fridge in search of ice, he saw rows of bottles, filled with clear liquid: Kilay’s meds.

        “You know I’m going to win again!” Kilay called. “What do you want to play next?” Lachlan hurriedly shut the fridge, feeling sweat drip down his back, heart pounding painfully. Pain means that I’m still alive.

        “I don’t know. I never really played many games.” Kilay stepped in front of him holding a box of ice.

        “Well then, I’ll just have to teach you.”

         “Lachlan, can you call the doctor, I’m not feeling so well.” Lachlan glanced over at his mother, who lay dramatically on the couch, one hand to her forehead, looking like an actress in some corny tragedy.

        “What’s wrong?” he asked robotically, grabbing the phone, but he didn’t dial the number.

        “I feel so weak and tired, and my head—oh, darling, it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt,” she moaned. Lachlan stood over her, feeling her head.

        “You probably just caught a cold,” he said bitterly. You don’t know anything about pain, he thought angrily, thinking of the agony Kilay tried so hard to hide from him, the expressions on her face when she didn’t know he was looking. The dull sheen in her eyes when she was having a tough day.

        “Lachlan, don’t let your mother suffer, you awful child! Call the doctor, and go take care of your sister. My little princess needs to look her best for the dinner party tonight, and so do I. I can’t go feeling like this, now can I? Be a good boy and paint your sister’s nails.” Lachlan stared at her, one hard syllable resting like a sore on the tip of his tongue, but the word stuck in his throat.

        “Yeah, sure,” he said, and began dialing.

        “Oh, and Lachlan? Don’t talk like that, it’s unbecoming.” Lachlan rested his head against the wall in the foyer, so his mother couldn’t see him.

        “Yes, Mother.”