Finding Sunshine

There’s a pocket. Just one. And it’s mine. Only I know where it is. Only I can access it. As long as I keep it a secret, it’ll only belong to me.

My own pocket of… I don’t know really. Happiness? Sunshine? Something like that I guess.

It’s a good place. A quiet place. I don’t go there as often as I used to, I don’t really need to. But I know where it is. And I go there just for the heck of it these days. Not necessarily to escape.

My pocket.

It’s mine, you know? It isn’t like I’m bad at sharing. I just… don’t want to if there isn’t a need to. And I do mean need.

Which is why today is such a bummer.

I don’t know how many days in a row I’ve seen you out there, crying your eyes out like a little girl. Until recently, it really annoyed me actually. That you were so bold as to take your tears out into the world. That you’d be willing to sit in the sunshine and bring your own rain. Really annoying.

But then I saw.

It was an accident for sure, I swear. I mean, I hardly ever even look over at your place. It’s pretty filthy looking. And I’m not just talking about your house. I’m talking about your parents. They’re so… I don’t know. It’s not like they walk around for days without bathing or something. Or maybe they do, I don’t know. But it’s not their physical appearance that I find grimy. It’s something beneath that.

Your parents are terrifying. Hideous.

Guess I didn’t take that into account before. But it makes sense now.

So here we are, at the “now” of now. You’re crying, and I know why now. So I can’t just walk away from you.

Ugh.

I can’t believe that I’m doing this.

“Hey, Turner.”

Your head snaps up. Tears have tracked their way down your face. There’s some dried snot right under your nose that has that gross white cake-like look. Without commenting, I hand you a tissue, which I brought with me on purpose.

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

But it’s probably too late to back out now.

“Hey Lisa,” you say, your voice trembling from the tears. You’re sucking it up quick though, trying to wipe the evidence off your face.

But you really can’t.

“You got a minute?”

You’re looking at me like I’m offering you a fire-breathing snail. Like I’ve just told you that we actually live on Saturn, not earth. Or like I’ve told you that I’m slowly turning into a possum.

“Y–Yeah…”

You don’t sound too sure, but I decide not to comment on that. Probably it’s not because of your answer that you’re uncertain, it’s probably because of me.

Which, I guess, is my own fault.

It’s not like I’ve ever gone out of my way to talk to you before. And we live right next door, so this is definitely unusual.

Whatever.

It’s already too late to back out.

Besides, I don’t really have a choice anymore.

“Alright then, hop off your butt and come with me,” I instruct, and then I walk off into the woods behind our houses.

You don’t follow immediately, which is probably wise. Like I said, I don’t usually talk to you, and now I’m suddenly wanting you to follow me into the woods, no questions asked. If you’ve got a good head on your shoulders, you probably figure that I’m leading you to a wolf pit or a sacrificial alter in the middle of the woods or something.

Eventually, you do follow me. Whether it’s because you trust me or because you don’t care whether you live or die is beyond me, but you follow me all the same.

Good.

Because I’m not going to kill you.

In fact, I’m going to show you the greatest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Where are we going Lisa?”

“To a place I know,” I tell you.

“A good place?”

“I only know good places Turner. What kind of person do you think I am?”

You shrug dramatically. I think it’s so dramatic because you’re not just shrugging at me, you’re trying to shrug off the lingering tears in your system.

“I don’t know. You never talk to me.”

You don’t say it as an accusation, like you probably should. Instead, it’s just a statement. A fact. Just part of this weird equation.

I sigh.

“Yeah,” I say, and then, after a moment, I add, “Sorry.”

“Why?”

You sound genuinely confused.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” you tell me quietly. “I get why you don’t want to talk to me. Well, probably.”

Wow.

That hurts way more than I thought it would. You’re not factual when you say it, you’re downcast, but accepting. Like it’s just part of the way the world works. Just as much a part of the clockwork of the world as the sky or the moon or the stars.

Wow.

That really hurts.

“I just don’t talk to people I don’t know,” I tell him. “It doesn’t really have anything to do with you.”

Which is partly true. I don’t like other people very much, and I’m quite shy outside of my safe zones. To talk to him, I’d have to go into his yard, and that is definitely not one of my safe zones. That’s actually more like a hot spot, or a danger zone. Walking into the lion’s den or something.

But, at the same time, it’s still halfway a lie.

I didn’t want to talk to Turner because I didn’t want to get involved. Being friends with someone who lived like… well, like that would be exhausting. And terrifying. It’d be like making friends with the locals of a war zone. You’d never know how they were really doing.

But that wasn’t a good reason.

Not at all.

In fact, I feel ashamed just thinking like that. Ashamed for having ever thought like that. Because I’ve seen it. I’ve seen him and I’ve seen how much Turner needs someone.

Because everybody needs somebody.

But my inner turmoil will have to wait.

We’ve arrived.

“Okay Turner, this is crazy, but you have to listen to me, okay?” I say.

Wide-eyed, he nods. “Okay.”

“This tree is magic. It’s going to take us someplace else. Don’t freak out, and don’t panic, and don’t scream. It’s a little weird and uncomfortable at first, but you won’t get hurt, I swear,” I instruct.

Turner seems intrigued and petrified at the same time. He nods though.

“O…kay,” he says uncertainly.

Satisfied with his answer, I begin to walk into the tree.

I’m stopped.

Turner has a hold of me, and he looks terrified.

“Can we… can we maybe walk in together? I’ve never been in a tree before.”

I can’t help but laugh. It’s such an odd statement. Probably, he could’ve phrased it differently. But, it wouldn’t have been as cute as it was if he’d said it different.

I sigh internally.

“Okay,” I tell him.

He grips my soft and small hand in his sweaty, calloused, slightly bigger one. It’s not a normal grip of reassurance. Not at all. It’s a death grip. The kind a drowning man has because he knows what’ll happen if he lets go.

I sigh aloud this time.

So, it starts.

Well, I can’t say I didn’t expect this. I did just talk about how everybody needs somebody, didn’t I?

I guess it won’t bother me too much to be Turner’s somebody.

Once we’ve stepped through, my first reaction is to look to the sky. Mostly, because it’s beautiful. But also because there are sometimes very large birds in the trees that have wonderful feathers and they often give me small coins for calling them pretty.

I see no birds today, but I do see the four moons that illuminate the sky. They’re not like our moon that glows white. One is permanently blue, another permanently gold, the other permanently silver and the last is permanently turquoise.

The four moons shine as brilliantly as the sun.

“It’s a bit different,” I explain to Turner. “The sunshine here isn’t quite the same kind as where we come from. But light is light, isn’t it? And you’ve got to find your sunshine somewhere, right?”

I know I didn’t say anything particularly moving. Not at all. But when I look over, Turner has a tear coming down his face, and it’s clear that he’s holding back more.

I panic a bit.

“Hey, Turner, it’s alright. It’ll be okay. I’m… I’m sorry about your family. I saw your dad… well, I saw him hit you in the stomach the other day. I didn’t mean to look and I don’t mean to upset you, I just thought that maybe you’d like it here.”

The words tumble out of me, bundled together in a fit, pushed by my panic.

You close your eyes a moment, and it quiets everything down. Your crying and my uncertainty and even the small pocket of sunshine around us seems to still.

“Lisa?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you mind if I came back here?”

Your question relieves me. “Anytime you want.”

“Would you mind awfully much if you came with me?”

Even if he wasn’t looking at me with sad, puppy eyes or asking with the shakiest, melancholy voice I’d ever heard, I’d have answered the same.

“Not at all.”

I feel his grip loosen a bit. He’s still holding onto me, but not like he’s drowning.

Not like he’s dying anymore.

I sigh, feeling soothed for some reason.

See, I told you this wasn’t a choice. I’ve never seen someone die before, but I know the signs, and I certainly don’t want to change see someone die either. Watching someone die slowly, right in front of me when I could’ve done something… well, that didn’t sit well with me.

He’ll be a lot of work, I know it. Fighting back against this kind of thing always is, Mom says. And she would know. She’s a therapist.

But, feeling the weight of Turner’s hand in mine and seeing how he’s looking at the sky, like it’s the first thing he’s ever really seen, I don’t think it’ll be so bad.

Probably, it’ll be worth it.

Well…

I told you, didn’t I? I don’t really mind giving up my patch of sunshine. At least, I don’t mind if the other person needs it even more.