Chapter 5 (pt. 3)
But now they were sixth graders, standing outside the gate to that kingdom they had created, each carrying a load that felt too heavy to bare. Akua, terrified and excited about following this new clue held tightly in her hand. Jack, crushed by the pain that comes when one has allowed himself to hope for too much. Both feeling terribly uncertain about what their future held. Neither sure why they had allowed their friendship to dwindle to an awkward silence.
There are big factors, like disappearing fathers, that shape one’s life, but there are other more seemingly insignificant factors that are just as powerful. Maybe it was because Charles had taken too long to open the gate. Maybe it was because Jack was simply too sad. Maybe it was because, since the day he had met her, Akua seemed able to fix anything. One cannot know what the impetus was, but in that moment, Jack broke the silence that had grown and festered between the two friends.
“Today is my birthday,” he said in a whisper that was almost too quiet for Akua to hear.
His words were so weak, and her anger toward him so strong, that her first reaction was to snap "No one can understand you when you mumble," but she stopped herself. He had been quiet, but she had understood him. She had heard the words, and she had heard him—the pain, the fear, the loneliness. Today is my birthday—a phrase usually announced with excitement, instead whispered in heartbreak. Akua had never heard anything so sad. She turned and looked at him, expecting to see tears gently rolling down his cheeks. Early in their friendship, Jack could be brought to tears by the simplest of things. Other kids would tease him about this, but Akua had always understood it as his strength. She admired this ability to encounter the world authentically, to accept the sorrow that surrounded them. But today, there were no tears. Jack had finally learned to pool his sadness in a deeper, more private place. He was not crying, but the tears had come out in his voice and Akua had heard them, felt them.
She paused for only a moment, allowing herself to feel, for the first time, the pain they had caused each other in these months of silence, to feel the regret for the words she had spoken and the words she had been withholding. Akua tucked the photograph from the box and the man's slip of paper into her pocket.
“Then, today, we celebrate!” she announced, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him across the street toward an old rusted shipping container that had found a new life as the neighborhood mini-mart.
There are big factors, like disappearing fathers, that shape one’s life, but there are other more seemingly insignificant factors that are just as powerful. Maybe it was because Charles had taken too long to open the gate. Maybe it was because Jack was simply too sad. Maybe it was because, since the day he had met her, Akua seemed able to fix anything. One cannot know what the impetus was, but in that moment, Jack broke the silence that had grown and festered between the two friends.
“Today is my birthday,” he said in a whisper that was almost too quiet for Akua to hear.
His words were so weak, and her anger toward him so strong, that her first reaction was to snap "No one can understand you when you mumble," but she stopped herself. He had been quiet, but she had understood him. She had heard the words, and she had heard him—the pain, the fear, the loneliness. Today is my birthday—a phrase usually announced with excitement, instead whispered in heartbreak. Akua had never heard anything so sad. She turned and looked at him, expecting to see tears gently rolling down his cheeks. Early in their friendship, Jack could be brought to tears by the simplest of things. Other kids would tease him about this, but Akua had always understood it as his strength. She admired this ability to encounter the world authentically, to accept the sorrow that surrounded them. But today, there were no tears. Jack had finally learned to pool his sadness in a deeper, more private place. He was not crying, but the tears had come out in his voice and Akua had heard them, felt them.
She paused for only a moment, allowing herself to feel, for the first time, the pain they had caused each other in these months of silence, to feel the regret for the words she had spoken and the words she had been withholding. Akua tucked the photograph from the box and the man's slip of paper into her pocket.
“Then, today, we celebrate!” she announced, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him across the street toward an old rusted shipping container that had found a new life as the neighborhood mini-mart.
There's so much going on in this passage! There's such a "pool" of private pain and yet there's potential for shared strength and celebration as Jack and Akua rekindle their relationship. You've also continued to weave in that thread of mystery about what happened to drive these two apart. I can't wait for the next installment!
ReplyDeleteThe line about questioning friendship has me thinking about the ways we get disappointed by people.
ReplyDeleteThe layers in the penultimate paragraph wow me.
ReplyDeleteThe tears...his strength. "She admired this ability to encounter the world authentically, to accept the sorrow that surrounded them." You are both entertaining and teaching me, sir. I love this!
ReplyDelete