All boys should play

Charles was rolling down the hill : it was going slow at first, then his body gathered velocity, like an avalanche. Тhe lightness of the air made him burst into surprised laughter. Another outburst of laughter - that of a child - followed his.

` Isn `` t - isn ` t this - great?`, asked Junior as they reached the bottom of the hill and came to a stop.

` Surely beats walking down the damn thing `, answered Charles, still laughing. ` God, I haven`t felt this light, this weightless in...`

`...in too long `, interrupted him the boy, looking at his face longingly. His eyes were the startling blue of the sky as children see it: bright, infinite, calling for an adventure. ` It` s been too long.`

` I have a life. Can`t be here all the time. Do you know I`m studying to be a doctor now?`

` Of course ` , said the boy. He was lying on his back, with folded arms - like he was about to pray or surrender - his pale face turned to Charles. `You are always studying to be something. Can you just become something already?`

` Are you scolding me? That` s new.`

` You never visit anymore.`

` I just rented a flat and bought some potted plants and a sculpture of a horse. I never knew I wanted a sculpture...Oh, and yesterday the woman from the coffee shop around the corner said "Hi, extra milk no sugar, right?" Imagine! "The usual, sir?" I`ll soon be one of those guys.`

` Oh, nice `, said Junior placidly and rolled his eyes without moving a muscle on his face. ` Good for you. Sounds great.`

` Jesus `, Charles felt the laughter draining from his body ` can you not...?`

` The sculpture of a horse!` The boy sniggered and then his face froze in a mock-serious expression. ` Pray tell, why a horse?`

` Don `` t. I came here to have a good time.`

`` Is there a treasured memory of you riding a horse through an empty field or brushing its shining tail, or falling from it face-down in the mud...`

` Okay, thanks for making this easier ` , said Charles and sat up. The sun was at its brightest, ensnaring the whole world in its trembling golden net, and even the butterflies soaring above the grass looked like they are moving in slow-motion, struggling to penetrate the heat with their wings.

Charles turned to Junior and steadied his voice:

` I think it` s time to..`

`...dive in the lake!`, yelled the boy with a sudden frenzy, jumped to his feet and started running before Charles could say a word, shouting as he went: ` The last one in the water is a loooseeeer...`

` Fuck `, said Charles quietly. He refused to run. Why, he would be the last one in the water anyway. He was a grown man and there was nothing...Charles stopped and sniffed the air. The delicious, heavy smell of summer - burned grass, honeysuckle, nameless flowers - was penetrated by something even better. Something cold. Unfathomable. A treasure chest chock-full of frozen secrets...The lake was calling to him. Before he could recalibrate the response of his feet, they ran to the forest. Pine trees were playfully reaching for his face, massive roots were jokingly tripping him and his old friends, the rocks, were showing him the way to the lake. When he got there, elated, but painfully breathless, Junior was already in the water. Not swimming, just resting on the surface - a young forest god, his pale skin covered in pearly droplets, his head crowned with dark gold. 

` You are a loser `, he whispered to the panting man and chuckled. ` A loooseeer.`

Everything around them was moist and lush: reeds were piercing the water like spears and a monstrously huge weeping willow was shielding the lake with its green hair. And the boy was floating in its shadow, not unlike a lonely driftwood. 

` Mother Willow is watching over our secrets...`

` You beat me to the lake `, said Charles, finally able to catch his breath.

` Course I did `, Junior smiled. ` You are getting slow. Walking everywhere, are you?`

`` Well, I...`

` Nothing beats running. Except rolling down the hill.`

Charles removed his shoes and socks and threw them carelessly on the grass.

` Or floating `, continued the boy. ` Everything that resembles flying. Running is like swallowing the wind, and floating ...well, you know- it` s like realising what a movement is for the very first time.`

Charles didn ` t immerse himself in the water gradually - he climbed on the rock at the edge of the lake, stretched and jumped into the gaspingly-cold calmness.

`Mother Willow greets you `, said Junior solemnly.

` She is nobody` s mother.`

` Really? I think she is a mother to everybody who needs one.`

`I don ` t . In fact, I ` m all the happier for not having one.`

A shadow came into existence before his eyes. Behind a dusty window, decorated with potted plants, a woman was standing, gazing at the world outside. Her hair was down, her nightgown was hanging around her body like linen on a washing line. She touched one of the plants and sighed. ` Oh, the plants are so thirsty `, she whispered, barely moving her lips. ` Somebody has to water them`.

Charles snapped out of it just before he started drowning: he gasped for air, spitting out icy water, and aimed for the shore. Junior was swimming beside him with dream-like, effortless movements.

` Pray tell, what was that?`

` You are really making this worse.` Charles climbed out of the water, trying to ease the chattering of his teeth. ` It ` s time for us to...`

`...go to the fair!` screamed the boy, sparking to life like a tree, struck by lightning.

` No. No, don ` t...`

But Junior has already grabbed his clothes in one hand and his broken shoes in the other and was running and yelling at the same time:

` It` s a one time occasion! The circus is in town and there will be an eating contest, and the last one to buy a hotdog is a cowaaaaaard...`

His steps echoed through the forest. Charles cursed and began to dress: calmly, methodically, there was no reason to...

A smell of popcorn, flashing lights and excited children, chewing bubble-gum, exploded in his nose like a short-fused firework and he ran before he had any time to clear his head ; he ran, tripping over friendly rocks and roots, until his bleeding soles hit pavement and stopped by themselves. The fair was everywhere. Children were running around, hidden behind huge cotton candy clouds, clowns were squirting water on laughing bystanders, the silhouette of a circus tent, bigger than any house in the neighbourhood, was looming in the distance and on top of that, a lion was parading gracefully through the crowd. Everybody was getting their turn to pet him.

` Can I pet the kitty? Mommy, please, can I pet the kitty? Mommy!`

` Julie, didn ` t I just tell you to wait your turn? Your little friends are not yelling like somebody is stabbing them.`

` But Mommy!`

Everybody was yelling. Frantic Christmas lights were hanging above the streets, blinking and winking with an air of superior knowledge. Heey, wanna know what we know?

` Pet the kitty.`

Junior was suddenly standing in front of him, all innocent in his white T-shirt and denim shorts, and broken sneakers, painted with green marker.

` Be a champ, champ. It`s your turn. Come pet the kitty.`

` I...`

Charles felt a wave of dizziness coming over him - inescapable about as all-powerful as the sun. This was too much. Even the time was wrong. The fair was not supposed to start until August...

` Come on, Charles, Charlie, Charlemagne. Come and shake your lion `s mane `, said the boy in a teasing, sing-song voice. It pierced his chest like a nail of pure light, leaving him breathless.

` No...not this. `

` Come pet the kitty `, said the boy and smiled. ` You `ll feel better. Come on, Charlemagne. `

Somewhere in the distance, the silhouette of the purple-yellow circus tent was vomiting clowns and they were flooding the streets, squirting water at people, losing their hats and even their noses; the tears, painted on their white, sad faces were shining in the sun. And the lion was suddenly in front of him.

` KITTY!` yelled the kid next to him. ` Mom, look, it`s the KITTY...`

The lion was simply staring, without moving or even blinking - much like a majestic postcard, a lifelike photography...Charles had seen teachers staring at him with the same expression. It meant ` You know the answer to the question, boy. So come on. Get to it.`

Junior giggled and tugged on Charles ` s shirt.

`You must pet him`, he said. ` It` s the most wonderful feeling. It will make you very happy.`

` No `, said Charles weakly. ` No, I don ` t think so.`

` How do you know? Have you ever petted one?`

` Look, this is not necessary...`

` Have you ever petted one, Charles? Maybe you went to the circus when you were just a boy and maybe there were all sorts of curiosities there, including a lion, and perhaps he was very tame, and they let you pet him and oh, the wonder you felt, the elation, the pure ecstasy...`

Charles `s hand reached out on its own accord. He was touching the lion now, stroking the lion. The warm fur under his fingers, the surprisingly soft mane, the powerful, yet hidden muscles...

`...and you swore you `ll remember this day forever. The happiest day of your life.`

One of the flashing lights above them blinked and went dead. Then another. Some of the people looked up, but most of them went about their business - buying popcorn, making balloon animals, hula-hooping, laughing...

Everybody was on the street and their houses stood dark and empty behind them - all except one. There was a woman standing at a dusty window, her hair down, her nightgown hanging around the coat-hanger of her body. ` Oh, this window is so dusty `, she whispered listlessly. ` Somebody ought to clean it, really ought to... Charlie? Charlie, are you home?`

Frozen with his hand on the lion`s head, Charles saw Junior answer gleefully:

` Yes, Ma!`, before looking at him.

` Charles, Charlie, Charlemagne...come and shake...your lion` s mane..`

` I`m busy, Ma!` bellowed Junior with the same gleeful expression. ` Doing homework!`

` Charlie...` The woman hung her head on one side, like she was tired of supporting so much weight with her neck. Her voice resembled the shadow of a pleading, but her eyes were wide open and hollow, like she was dreaming. ` Maybe...maybe you want a song? You used to love my songs...I can sing to you about...about Mother Willow...`

` No, Ma!`, yelled Junior so loud Charles`s ears almost exploded. ` I want to go to the fair after I do my homework! Can I go, Ma? There will be a pie eating contest and a circus with a real lion! I really want to go, Ma!`

`Ah.` The woman touched her neck with her frail hands and her mouth quivered, in a smile-like attempt. ` The fair...of course...you should go....all boys should play, all boys should...`

` Thanks, Ma!` yelled Junior , winking at Charles. ` I` ll see you after the fair!`

The woman just stood there in silence for a bit, then she touched her gown like she was trying to understand what is it made of. A little spark flashed through her eyes, making them bright and beautiful for a second.

` Yes...` she whispered to the window. ` See you, my boy. See you. See you...`

Junior turned to Charles like a proud toy soldier. 

` Do you feel better?`

` I didn ` t come here for this.` Charles` s voice was shaking, just like his hand on the lion`s mane. ` I came here to properly close a door that was left open for too long. To finally say...`

` But you can ` t say it`, said the boy angrily. ` You can ` t`! I won ` t let you. I won ` t let you desert me. I ` m the heart of you; without me you are this shadow of a person, a hollow mannequin made of memory cut-outs. You rearranged your past, didn ` t you? Made a nice memory album of the good little boy with the good little grades that you can show to your new acquaintances...Why do you have a sculpture of a horse in your brand new home, Charles? Mom worked double-shifts for weeks to get you, no, to get me on a horse. I dreamed of it for weeks - the glistening body, the shining mane, outlined by the sun...That sculpture in your apartment is mine, Charles! What else do you have that is mine?`

` Don ` t delay this, Charlie, I came here to...`

` Even the potted plants you have are not yours. You never liked plants. They are just a memory...a shadow of a memory. Look at your shoes - run-away sneakers. Mine, not yours...What will you have after closing the door on me?`

` Let` s cut this short`, said Charles, folding his arms to stop them from shaking. ` I know you are scared...`

` I `m the scared one? You silly grown-up boy. Who is shutting the door, hiding from the monsters of his past?`

` You are not hiding only because you are trapped here, reliving the same thing over and over again. A scared little boy, punished for wanting to be happy...`

` We were not punished for wanting to be happy, you fool!` yelled Charles Junior with a sudden animosity. ` We were punished for being careless! Do you know what careless means? Devoid of care! There was an empty space in us where care should have resided , where kindness should have taken place. Where actions should have come from. Actions like watering the flowers, cleaning the window, throwing the trash out, listening to our mother `s songs..`

` She was sick`.

` Did we at least try to help? Brush her hair, make her speak? Tell her she is loved, make her laugh, get her out of bed...`

` We were scared,` said Charles weakly, ` and trying to normalise everything. We thought that if we accept the fact that she was not cooking and cleaning, or even showering, the fact that she was crying so much, as normal...`

` But it wasn ` t. It wasn ` t normal. And while we were at the fair petting the fucking lion...`

` Listen.` Charles was finally able to control the shaking in his hands, so he kneeled in front of the boy and took his face in his palms.` You listen to me, Charlie. Our mother didn ` t die because we petted the lion. She didn ` t die because we decided to go to the fair, or because we didn ` t listen to her songs enough, or didn ` t clean the windows... Despite my regrets, I think we would have made no difference. Yes, there is no way of knowing. But wandering into all of the might-beens and have-beens has made me what I am - a man made of, as you said, memory cut-outs. I want to be alive. I want to be made of new things, present things, I want to have my own sculptures and furniture and plants, to know my new neighbourhood. I want to become a doctor. And to do all of this, I must say...`

` Do you want to become a doctor to fix it?`

` Not dropping the ball, are you? Yes, perhaps. But that is as good reason as any. And even if it` s affecting my decision, it won ` t necessarily affect my future.`

` So you `ll just leave me then.` Tears were shining now in the boy `s eyes, eyes the colour of a summer sea, rising to meet its enemies.

` Charlie.`

` You are deserting me.`

` I ` m letting you rest.`

` You`re killing me.`

All of the Christmas lights above the street went out. Clowns were squirting water in people`s faces now and they were screaming in a feeble, vaguely disturbed way, stumbling over their own kids.

` I `m bringing you peace. Be reasonable.`

` You are asking a kid to be reasonable? Oh, Charles.`

` This has been going on for too long. You said you were a part of me, but you ` ve been behaving like we are two different parts, two sides at war...The shadow at the window has been dividing us for long enough. It ` s time to make peace.`

The lights above them went BANG in a terrifyingly cheerful way and shards of broken glass showered on the people, running around like worried ants. Children were screaming and the magnificent purple-yellow tent in the distance flapped its sides like a giant bird and sank to the ground. The lion looked around with undisturbed eyes, flicked his tail and went away calmly - like a furry Moses, parting the sea of madness. He was the last refuge of peace in a world that was crumbling around the two Charlses.

` It ` s okay, kid`, whispered Charles Senior. `It ` s time for all of this to go. Nobody can hurt forever.`

The boy tried to smile, but tears were pulling the corners of his mouth down.

` Do you think you`ll ride a horse again, Charles?`

` I would like that very much.`

` Promise me you `ll be a smart doctor... that you won ` t grow up to be boring...`

` I can come visit you again...`

` Where? I won ` t exist like I do now. Charles...`

The world was imploding on itself. A whirlwind of tents, brazen colours, hotdogs, balloons and people was getting casually sucked into the ground and a simple, but enormous darkness was descending upon this childish memory. Before the last sunlight was sucked out of the air, the boy`s eyes and the eyes of the young man locked, their tears finally forming a bridge between them.

` What is it, Charlie?`

` Promise....promise to never be ashamed of me.`

The world flickered, like a broken lightbulb, and disappeared. Charles found himself lying on the bed in his new apartment, on the corner of his future. A sculpture of a black horse, captured mid-stride, was reining over the almost-empty bedroom. 

Everything was very calm, very quiet.

Charles turned to the window, where the shadows of his potted plants were watching expectantly.

` Goodbye `, he finally managed to say. ` Goodbye.`