Beautiful Things

Beautiful Things

Truth be told, this was a long time coming. I knew where I’d find him. It was always the same spot. The same room. First door on the right of the main hall. I opened the door. The room was cluttered, a lingering pungent scent in the air. Not from any specific incident but rather the accumulation of neglect. The same way cancer metastasizes one small genetic error at a time, so too does a home fall into disarray. It becomes terminal if left unchecked.

He was sitting in the corner. Just a small boy, alone. He was still sobbing, his knees hugged tight against his chest. Even now, with every intention of helping I couldn’t help but resent him. His frail body, his lanky-clumsy limbs, and swollen teary face. 

Weak. I thought, reflexively.

“Hey, Kid.” I said before walking over to him. “I think it’s time you and I talked.”

He didn’t say anything. Just buried his head between his knees.

I sat beside him with a grunt.

“Look, I know I haven't always been good to you…” I searched the air for the words. “I’ve blamed you for things that aren’t your fault. I’ve pretended that you and I are different. I think, maybe, I forgot what it was like to be you. After all, that’s what you wanted. But I’m not sure you and I have a future if we don’t learn to work together. And, I know, we can’t fix it all right now but… If you want, we can start here. You can ask me anything. I mean it. Go on, shoot.”

I watched him but he wouldn’t look at me. He wiped his nose with his sleeve, considering what to ask.

Finally, he said:

“Will I ever be happy?” 

            “Sure,” I said. “Sometimes.”

            He sniffled, “Does it ever go away?”

            I considered lying, “No.” I conceded. “But you get better at it.”

            He nodded.

            “Does it ever… Do we…” 

            He stopped and lowered his head.

            I placed a hand on his shoulder.

            “Hey, listen, Kid. It’s going to be okay. I promise. There are… beautiful things ahead of you. Things worth waiting for. Things worth holding on to.”

            He turned and looked at me. His eyes, glassy, desperate, but hopeful.

            “Do they last?” He asked.

            I studied the messy room, the empty bottles, and ignored the shouting in the hall.

“No. But that’s what makes them beautiful.” 

He looked down.

“Can I ask you something?” I said.

He nodded.

“Why here?”

“Because,” He said, “I just want to be alone.”

I put my arm around him and pulled him in.

“No, Kid, you don’t.”

END