What We Cannot Say

"Destructive" and "Foolishness" were the words shot back at me when I asked what love is. The air is cold and dry here, the city quiet, everything black and white. We're taught that when loving occurs, it soon turns to hate. I yearned to know the feeling of love, even if I didn't know what it was. No one's ever objected to the illogical laws abided by our leaders, our creators, our "saviours". I find myself staring at myself in the mirror. Picking myself apart piece by piece, stating everything that's wrong with me. But, when I curl my lips slightly upwards, my cheeks getting higher, and my eyes lifting, I feel a rush. Like I'm not as ugly as I believe myself to be. Is this love? I think to myself. "You're going to be late" yelled my mother. I rush myself down the stairs to find my father waiting by the door, a grim expression on his face, his skin looking grey. My mother, having a matching appearance, holds my lunch. "Don't be home late" the words pierce my ears. "It's not safe". I nod my head, a sense of chills go down my spine as I remember the current war that is still ongoing. On the drive to school, I watched the outside through the car windows, my eyes stuck on the posters we drove by. A poster with an image of a family underneath an umbrella over them, protecting them from a rainbow. Thousands of these papers all over the streets. Another poster catches my eye, a couple with two different skin tones with a giant X over them. These images were everywhere on this side of town, the older part. I never knew what they meant, I had no idea what the rainbow was or why the family was being shielded from it. Or why there were two people of different races being shown with a big X over it. A couple like that has never been seen in the world, let alone our area. It frustrated me to not know what it meant. As I finally reached school, I observed some of my classmates walking in line, in uniform, and in unison into the school. I got out of the car and quickly joined the line. Matching the rhythm of their feet hitting the ground. One, two, one, two. Repeatedly. Once we reached our classrooms and settled down, we were met with a voice on the PA system. Music starts blaring, our national anthem. “In our loveless sight” was the lyric that stood out to me the most. “Loveless” I didn’t know what love meant so what could it mean to be loveless. Were we “loveless”? Was I loveless? I felt crazy that these thoughts could ever go through my mind, the world that’s been built and curated for me has never let me down. So why was I doubting it? Where I’m from, “love” was not to be spoken about, to be shown, to be acted on. This has been a rule for generations, and because of this, it’s been an easy rule to follow since it’s so old none of us even know what it is. But, if one were to ever break the rule somehow, they were to be severely punished or even put to death. These rules were put into place by Laurence Hemmingsworth II, our country’s 10th ruler. As the school day went on, I impatiently waited for lunch, because that’s when we were let off due to the war. I couldn’t shake this empty feeling I felt in my stomach. Was I wrong for wanting to fill this emptiness? Something in me longed for completion. Was I outgrowing my privilege? When I was about to walk out of the school building, I felt myself getting pulled to the side. My thoughts were interrupted as I looked up to see a tall, slim, tanned figure. Zoro. The only biracial person in the school. He gets weird looks all the time. His parents are kind of like an example of the couple I saw on the poster on the way to school. The one with the huge red X on it. When our eyes locked, I felt something in my stomach twist. It wasn’t normal. When I was about to open my mouth to speak, he beat me to it. “I need your help” he mumbled. “What?” I scanned his face, his features were so perfect. “Can we meet at the beach at 4 pm?” He looked nervous. “It’s urgent” I nodded my head, I didn’t know what how to act. I was nervous about what he needed to talk to me about. We haven't spoken in about a year. I used to tutor him after school every day at my house before the war, after tutoring, we’d continue to talk for an hour. When the war started, the threats towards people of different colours were everywhere. They couldn’t walk in the streets without being tormented. The hatred only grew from then, and Zoro had to be pulled out of school. 

As a few hours went by, I left the house a quarter to four. Eager and scared to hear what Zoro needed to talk about, and why it needed to be said in such a secluded area. The atmosphere was somber, as it usually is. Thick clouds covered the sky, not a hint of sunshine, if it’s even real. I was starting to believe the sun was a myth made up by the Forlos. Forlos was what we called crazy people who preach love. They’re all mostly in hiding if there are any left, because they would definitely be put to death on the spot. I got closer and closer to the beach as I walked down the side roads, from afar I could distinctly make out a figure. Zoro was already there waiting for me, pacing back and forth. When I caught up to him, you could clearly see he was distressed, it felt so weird seeing emotion. “What happened? Why did you want me here?” I asked bluntly. I immediately regretted it. “I found this, I-I don’t know what it is, but you’re smart, maybe you could make something out of it.” I looked at the scroll in his hand, hesitant to grab it. I held the scroll in my hands for a second before opening it, I didn’t know what I would find, but nothing could prepare me. Slowly, I opened the scroll to see writing, a list, with weird symbols next to it. “Compassion, Joy, Trust, Grief” I read the words out loud, almost struggling to sound it out. “What is this? Zoro, where did you even find this?” I didn’t know what to make of the situation. “I found it in my attic, locked away in a box. Look at the back of the paper.” I flipped the page over to see a drawing. A drawing of a human heart, it was bleeding. “Isn’t this…” Zoro cuts me off before I can continue, “it’s the symbol for love” My eyes widen a bit and fear enters me. “This could get us into so much trouble, why do you even have this!? Are you crazy?” He quickly put his hand over my mouth to shut me up, “Quiet down! Look, I know this sounds insane, but my gut is telling me to find out about what these words mean. I think it has something to do with...love” he whispered the last word. The forbidden word. “Even if they do mean something important, it is not worth our lives. This could lead to our death.” I said sternly, he was acting crazy, this was a horrible idea. “I know this is probably the stupidest idea, but what if we did this together. Find out what they mean. No one has to find out, we’ll be safe.” Part of me really wanted to go along with it because of the thoughts I was having, I wanted answers. I desperately wanted to learn what love is about. “Fine. But no one can know. Not your family, and not your acquaintances.” I said sternly. He nodded, and I caught his lips curl upwards slightly, the way I did when I looked in the mirror. The thing I did that made me feel less ugly. That slight movement his mouth did when I agreed made me feel less ugly. It was bizarre, and I didn’t know if I liked it. “Okay. So how are we going to do this? How are we going to find out more about this...love thing” I questioned, reflecting on the question in my head myself. “Do you think our library has something about it? Or would they have washed out any evidence of ‘love’ existing?” I opened the scroll again to examine it, to see if I could find something on it that could help us, then something caught my eye. “I think the symbols are telling us where to go.” Next to the word compassion, there was a fancy red cross, it looked very familiar, like I’d seen it before. “Isn’t that on the Hospital sign? The hospital on Willow lane?” My paranoia only grew from here, I couldn’t calm down the racing thoughts in my mind. “Okay, but where do we go from there? We get to the hospital and then what? We don’t even know what we’re looking for.” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Well, there’s a heart on the back of the scroll. Maybe we need to look in the ‘heart’ of these buildings?” He suggested. It sounded ridiculous, but there wasn’t much to work with. I agreed, and we made our way to the hospital. When we arrived, the place was buzzing. On top of the war, the human life span is only around 45. According to our history class, that’s really young. Before the new laws were in place, people lived to at least 75. I almost couldn’t believe that. “Does ‘heart of the hospital’ mean cardiovascular related things?” Zoro questioned. “That’s too vague. It’s got to be something else.” As I said that, the emergency room caught my eye. “Maybe it’s there.” I pointed to the entrance of the ER. “This could be the hospital’s heart because life or death moments happen here every day.” I said trying to sound confident. “I hope you’re right.” We snuck into the emergency room, hiding behind random machines occasionally. While sneaking around, a first aid kit sitting in a gold case caught our eye. Inside the first aid kit, alongside bandages, was a folded note. It’s paper, worn and folded too many times. The message inside read: 

‘Compassion is a gentle glow,

A knowing heart, a warm embrace,

The urge to heal, to ease the woe,

And lift another's darkened place.”

“What the hell does this even mean?” Zoro complained loudly. We were now walking away from the hospital, completely dumbfounded. “Lower your voice. Don’t complain too early, let’s just get what we need from each place and then worry about solving it.” My feelings weren’t matching my words. I eagerly wanted to know what this all meant. What our purpose was as humans. While getting caught up in my thoughts, it started to rain heavily. “Oh crap.” he said. We started to run and find shelter, although the situation was annoying, we were laughing. I couldn’t help but stare at him as we sprinted to find cover, he was so beautiful, something about being with him made me feel so light, as if nothing mattered. We finally found shelter at the library near my house. We entered the lobby, out of breath from the journey and the laughter, we were soaked. There was a quick moment where we just stared at each other. Our eyes attracted to each other like magnets. “Uh…we should probably figure out the next location for the second clue” he shook us back to reality, though part of me wishes I didn’t. “Should we continue tomorrow? It’s getting dark. We shouldn’t cut close to curfew.” I reminded him, “You’re right. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” I nodded my head, “Be safe, Zoro.” 

The week went on, we continued our quest to figure out what love meant. As we got closer and closer to finding answers, so did we. All this time spent together only made me more fond of him, and it caused me to feel things that weren’t normal. We had one more place to check out, the final clue, the word ‘grief’ with a symbol of a detailed human skull next to it, which could only lead to one place, the graveyard. We made our way to the graveyard, it was dark and quiet, as it usually was. In the middle of it all, there stood a tall statue, a weeping angel. On the bottom, near the feet of the angel, it read:

‘Grief is love's shadow, soft and deep,

 A tender ache from wounds we keep.

 It blooms from bonds once held so tight,

 Now aching in the quiet night.’

“Grief is love’s shadow…” he repeated aloud. For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The wind stirred through the branches of the surrounding trees, but something in the air shifted, as if the space itself recognized the weight of their discovery. The realization came slowly, and I know we were both thinking it; love and grief are two sides of the same coin. We spent our entire lives denying love, suppressing the unknown feeling until it became a distant echo. I knew that they way my stomach twisted and turned when I heard his voice, the sense of warmth his presence brought, the vulnerability that came out, it was abnormal. Not to be talked about. The way that when the corners of my mouth tugged upwards, it felt right. “Zoro…” I muttered, afraid to say what was on my mind. He reached for my hand, pushing my hair out of my face. This wasn’t allowed. The action, the colours of our skin, the circumstance, everything was against the law. The truth settled on us like a weight we couldn’t lift. We knew the cost of what we were doing. We were now criminals, guilty of the very thing that makes us human, the very thing this world tried to destroy. “You knew this was wrong” a voice spoke. “You knew the cost of finding out the truth” a figure was emerging from the shadows, a tall man, in a suit with a sharp jawline. “There are reasons as to why love is not permitted. Why it was erased from the fabric of our society long ago.” He said sternly, his words harsh, but it wasn’t anything new to us. It wasn’t just some abstract concept, but a fact of life. In our world, love is a commodity, a dangerous thing. It’s a privilege, reserved only for those deemed acceptable. Those who fit the criteria of what’s allowed. And for everyone else, it’s erased. “What will happen to us?” I managed to get out some words, “You will be taken into confinement for now, this cannot exist. Love…it was banned because it’s a threat to society’s survival. Love caused people to abandon their duties, thinking with their hearts instead of their brains, which lead to chaos and instability. To ensure efficiency and maintain order, love was outlawed. Emotional bonds were replaced with cold, calculated relationships, and any form of love was harshly punished. Society had to remain focused and obedient, love was a danger we could no longer afford.” We knew there was no way out, not from the law, not from the world that had made our love illegal. Our hands were still intertwined, I couldn’t let go now that I had him. The cold air of the graveyard wrapped around us, but it felt strangely comforting, as if it were offering us a gentle release.

The officer reached Zoro and I, his face unreadable, but there was something in his eyes, a flicker of something else, perhaps doubt, perhaps regret. But it was too late for second chances. Two loud but short bangs filled the area. Silencing the already quiet premise. Love, though it had been buried, would bloom again. Not in our lifetimes, but in the quiet, unnoticed ways it always had. For love, like the wind, could never be truly stopped, it could only be carried, from one generation to the next, until it finally broke free. In the end, it was not the law that silenced us, but the world’s unwillingness to listen.