Too Close to the Sun

“I can do this. Just give me one more chance,” I choked, tears welled up in my eyes, “I promise things will be different this time. Please …,” I whispered through shaky voice and shakier fingers, “… just trust me.”

***

            I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed so hard my jaws went numb afterwards – though I think that was just one of the perks of being so easily entertained. Also thanks to the fact that –

            “Nat, why are you sitting so far away from us? C’mere!” Donna called out to me from across the table. She held out her hand for me to take. It was the perfect timing – well, almost – and I burst into another fit of giggles. 

            Damn, she was really going to use that ghost and the elevator joke? It was so horrible, it was almost funny.

            “Oh, come on! The last joke wasn’t even that funny! Wait until you hear this next one!” she beamed. “So, why do ghosts prefer using the elevator? ‘Cos it lifts their spirits!” Cue the next few lines, cue the forced laughter coming from me.

            Most of the time, I could go day by day faking it; pretending I never saw that coming. Though most days, I’d just wear long jackets and a scarf around my neck as to avoid any possible contact I might have with people. I realized I first had this ‘gift’ when I saw my brother falling off into the river that one Sunday morning after we raced each other back home from the park and he tripped, falling off of the bridge – all of which I saw happening while he was still walking beside me, hand in hand with each other. He was fine. He was fine because my hand got so cold after that he decided I might be sick and so guided me back home safely. 

            Or maybe it was that time I’d planted a kiss on my dad’s cheek on a drizzling afternoon before finding him looking blankly into space with a burning cigarette in hand and a clear bottle of vodka in the other. 

            I could see the future. Or parts of it. I could see the outcomes of everything. How? If this was a romantic film, I’d reach out my hand for you to take and say, “Give me your hand, and I’ll show you how.”

            But this wasn’t. 

            The first time that I saw him, I didn’t feel Cupid’s burning gaze aiming at the back of my skull nor butterflies dancing in my guts. There was nothing extraordinary nor dramatic that took place the first time I saw him. 

It was normal. 

Almost too normal I didn’t see anything coming.

            Though, I did feel something else. Indifference. Which led me to withdraw myself from coming into contact with him whatsoever. It used to be fun though, being able to see what was going to happen before it actually did – a cool party trick I might add. But I guess, that day I was just not in the mood. 

            He was just there, existing. Fingers running across the spines of all the books compactly displayed on the library shelves. I ignored him until a shadow loomed over me all of the sudden. Looking up from my book, my eyes were stuck on a pair of another dark ones, “Is this seat taken?”

            “Nope. Please,” I said, gesturing at it with a polite smile on my face before returning to my book.

            Some part of me had hoped he never approached me that day. Some part of me had wished that I’d just told him the seat was, in fact, occupied. Anything, anything that would’ve prevented us from talking or seeing each other again after that incident. Because not long after, I’d have said that being indifference was merely an illusion the lazy part of me was more than willing to accept. 

            I’d soon learn that his name was Hyde and he’d be the death of me one day. 

***

            “I thought the deadline was tomorrow?”

            “It is,” he answered, eyes still glued to his laptop screen.

            Frowning, I jumped into the couch next to him making his stature bounced with mine, “Then why are you just starting it now?” I stretched out and rested my legs on his lap – he didn’t seem to mind it though. 

            It took 7 months – and a couple of weeks for us to become this comfortable with each other. We knew each other like the backs of our hands – which was an understatement, of course. There was still a part of me I obviously kept hidden from him – like the fact that I could literally see his future. I hadn’t done that though. Because with him, I’d learned a lot of things I didn’t know about myself before. For instance, how I could block out the thoughts from flashing across my mind sometimes.

 Sure, the first kiss was risky. He was nervous – and I was terrified. 

            I knew I was doomed then when his warm, honey-coloured eyes lingered for a bit too long on my lips that evening. A strand of tousled hair falling onto his forehead didn’t help the fact that I, too, had caught myself staring for far too long at his. I tried to distract myself by counting the perfectly dotted freckles across his nose until we both realized what we were doing and burst into a fit of laughter. I’d never touch him before. And he had enough respect for me to never initiating anything more than that really.

            Though before I knew it, his face turned serious again and boldly, he took my face in his large hands and connected our lips. 

            And I didn’t see anything. 

            I didn’t see anything!

            “Like you don’t know me,” he smirked, barely looking up.

            I rolled my eyes. 

            Playfully, he smacked my bare knee with his book, “And don’t you roll your eyes at me, Sky.”

            “Don’t call me that!” I gasped and he laughed. 

            He knew how much I hated that nickname. Or he didn’t – regardless, he knew that it was what my family used to call me once till they didn’t anymore. That accident 10 years ago changed everything. Hyde didn’t know about it, no. He just knew that I didn’t like it. “Okay, I’m sorry, Sky.”

            I groaned, “Oh, shut up, Queen.”

            This time, he brought his eyes to mine and feigned a hurtful look on his face. “You did not – no …," he said, exasperatingly.

            “Oh, yes,” I mocked him, raising my eyebrows. Hyde Queen. Just as I hated my nickname, he hated his last name. 

            “Run. Now,” he ordered. He could barely even hold it together before the corner of his mouth twitched. His dimples deepened and I could see the twinkles in his eyes as he tried glaring (read: squinting) at me as a form of – clearly failing – intimidation. 

            I should’ve done as I was told though. I should’ve ran. 

            But instead, I jumped onto his lap and locked my arms around his head – ridiculously, in an attempt to suffocate this giant of a man with my body.  He was scarcely suppressing any laughter and I could feel his warm breath on my clothed chest. His body vibrated against mine and in that moment … I was happy.

            I was happy. I was happy. I was happy. 

            Until I cupped his face with my palms and kissed his laughter away. 

***

            It was my fault. All of this. 

            “I can do this. Just give me one more chance,” I choked, tears welled up in my eyes, “I promise things will be different this time. Please …,” I whispered through shaky voice and shakier fingers, “… just trust me.”

I should’ve seen this coming. 

I should’ve seen this coming.

I should’ve seen this coming!

I couldn’t breathe as I prayed to whatever God there was up there to spare him. Just spare him and take me instead. Take me.

We were on a hike. 

He was always the meticulous one. He laid out the plans for us to go through. Even though it was supposed to be our weekend off from the world, I’d insisted for him to bring his phone – just in case. He obliged. Water bottles, checked. Boots, checked. A compass, checked. My drawing book, checked. His pocket knife, checked. Us going back home safe and soundly … 

I checked out all the boxes. 

He didn’t. 

“Maybe that was the problem. You did see this coming,” my brother said, trying to soothe me, “… and you tried to change it, didn’t you?” 

I ignored him as he placed his hand gently on my trembling shoulder. Hyde laid there on the bed, tubes sticking out from his throat. The monitor around us buzzed softly and the clock ticked loudly – mocking me of all the things that could never be mine. Everything was laughing at me. I could hear the snarls and mockery coming from the walls of all the lives they’d seen be stolen away. Why should his be any difference? 

Why should mine be any difference?

“You should’ve gone to the beach as planned. As planned, little sister,” my brother repeated for the hundredth of time that day. “You love the sand.”

I just wanted him to shut up. Just leave me alone. 

I didn’t want to love the sand. I didn’t want to love the beach. I wanted him. Him. Was that so much to ask for?

“You can’t save everyone,” his tone softened. “I thought you’d have learned that after me,” he whispered. “… after dad.”

“Go away,” I muffled. The pain was too much. This was too much. “Go away, please.”

“Touch him.”

I sniffed weakly, “What?”

“Touch him and see. Then promise me you’d finally learn. Promise me you’d let this go. Promise me you’d just brush it off,” he said sternly. “Look at me.” 

            No. I didn’t want to.

            “Hey, look at me …,” and when I didn’t, he chuckled. 

            We stayed in silence after that. I couldn’t stop staring at him. 

            Everything did become a little louder when there was silence after all. 

            We’d been here for a week now. And still, there was no progress, no sign of recovery of his condition at all. 

            They said he’d cracked a few bones on the way down. His lungs were punctured and skull cracked open. They said he was lucky – which I was pretty sure our definitions of that word might differ a little bit from one another. Nevertheless, there was no indication that he’d wake up anytime sooner. 

            “I’m sorry.”

            My brother closed the book he was reading and sighed, “I don’t think he can hear you.”

            “I was talking to you.”

            He went silent. After a moment, he replied, “For what?”

            I closed my eyes, “You know for what.”

            He took a deep breath and walked towards me before kissing the back of my head, “I’d forgiven you a long time ago,” he lingered behind me before lowering his voice, “… maybe it’s time you finally forgive yourself and let me go, Sky.” 

            I couldn’t hold back the tears after that, “But we promised that we’d have each other’s back! You promised you’d take care of me that day! You –“.

            When I turned around, he was already gone. 

            We should’ve just crossed the bridge that day. He should’ve fallen off of it. Things would’ve be fine after that. But I was a coward. I shouldn’t have suggested we used that old route back home just because I was scared. If we did, none of it would’ve happened. He wouldn’t have had to cross the goddamn road and that lorry wouldn’t have honked at him and his organs wouldn’t have had splattered all over the freaking road. He would’ve been fine. He would’ve been fine. 

            And dad would’ve been fine. 

            He wouldn’t have thought that the emptiness of those vodka bottles was the only way he could’ve been whole again. The only way he could get even sligtly closed to feeling the presence of his firstborn son - or coping with the absence of it.

            I should’ve let it go. I should’ve learned. 

            But no, I just had to save him. I just had to save Hyde from himself and that sight of him screaming for help in the openness of the stupid ocean. 

            I stood up, mustering whatever courage I had left inside of me and sat at his side. I saw it the night we kissed. I was able to see it because I’d touched him. Just like I’d held my brother’s hand in the first place from that park. Just like I’d kissed my dad on his cheek sweetly – feeling safe with the scent of smoke and ashes coming from his shirts. 

Touch him and see. 

Three – the monitor started to beep wildly. I should call someone. Though this time, I decided to brush it off.

Touch him so that he could feel just how cold your hands were.

Two – 

Touch him so that he knew just how desperately you wanted to take that kiss back.

One – 

Touch him like you did that night.

And I did. 

I saw something – 

Nothing.