In the forest with Mr. In-between

Mr. In-between, standing underneath the tall birch trees of the forest, picked up his head and looked up towards the stars. It was a moonless night, where a blanket of void covered the sky above completely and the thousands upon thousands of distant silverfish chewed holes through in the fabric to let some of the always-light in. 

The night was finally here, so Mr. In-between’s shameful task could begin. 

He dropped the last of the last of her belongings onto the clearing of grass with a thud. Before him were a pile of cabinets and drawers, cupboards and wardrobes, dresses, curtains and pictures-in-frames. It was an assortment of styles as unique as a fingerprint, a fingerprint of a life lived through many decades, some before Mr. In-between walked his very first steps. 

The Birches provided the right amount of privacy for Mr. In-between, the clearing the right amount of space, the petrol can in his right hand would be the accelerant and the matches in his left hand would be the igniter, the plan was simple, “Shameful but simple” - a little mantra. 

There was shame in the act, a defeat, an admittance that he can’t and couldn’t, shouldn’t but did have in his possession the valueless, priceless belongings of the last of old In-between’s, the one they called Queen In-between, his grandmother. As nice as those things were (and they were nice) Mr. In-between could not accept them. It was because of his less-than-spacious flat that he called his Sleeping Place. The once-loved belongings of Queen In-between would not only fail to fit inside these less-than-spacious walls, but they would also be doubles, better doubles than what he had, but doubles none-the-less, items that Mr. In-between did not need, he only wanted for more space and Queen In-between’s belongings could not do that. Queen In-between’s belongings belonged to the wrong but unfortunately the last In-between, but they had to go to someone, didn’t they? The home demanded it. 

He wished that they could have gone to another, anyone really, his name (or his curse depending on how you viewed it) prevented him from a successful life, it did not prevent him from an interesting life though, and this was definitely an interesting tale, one he would look back on in years to come. Like the rest of the In-between’s, Mr. In-between was between jobs, between relationships, between periods of intoxication and more recently in-between funerals. He wore the In-between badge with hesitant honour. 

It had been 3 days since Queen In-between had left for distant forever shores and left her grandson Mr. In-between with her name and her things. It had taken 7 whole hours to move all of her belongings as deep into the forest as would allow for the privacy that Mr. In-between needed. 

The fire seemed the best option, it was fast (to a degree) and was reliable. Queen In-between’s belongings were almost all wood, some were fabric, some of the belongings had already started to suspect that this was the plan (he suspected) they all burned and that to Mr. In-between was all that mattered. 

It was with a certain sadness and embarrassment that Mr. In-between prepared the space for a sudden mid-July Bonfire. He had never made one himself but had the general idea of how they are meant to be made. As soon as the thought of what to do with Queen In-between’s belongings had entered his mind, Mr. In-between did have to look up online how to do it properly, he didn’t want to burn down the forest after all. 

Queen In-between’s life was one of mounting tragedies and few triumphs, despite all of her nice things. She had lost a lot: Children, parents, brothers, and sisters. There were several lifetimes of loss in her single life, yet whenever young Mr. In-between ever visited her (he did more on the days leading up to her passing) he could always rely upon Queen In-between to smile, to joke and laugh and be as jolly as most people are only capable of when celebrating a birthday or holiday. That was Queen In-between’s default, her standard, and it made any room or home light up. 

It was one of the strongest memories of her, it was the way he’d like to remember her: A bright smile that hid away her shadows. 

The petrol smelled as it soaked into the wood, it was the strong cheap petrol from the weird stations with strange names. It soaked into the floor in the circular shape that Mr. In-between had designed the bonfire to be (from his research). The circle would, Mr. In-between hoped, keep the fire where it was and would not come out of the circle, for again he did not want to burn down the forest, only the pile of cabinets and drawers, cupboards and wardrobes, dresses, curtains and pictures in frames. 

Mr. In-between should probably say a few words, maybe ten words, maybe ten really nice words that would honour Queen In-between’s memory, her legacy. Mr. In-between decided to try it. 

“You were always…” That was three, a third of the words used up already, and nothing had been said, he’d try again. 

“Your smile, your smile” Now he was just repeating himself. 

“I’m sorry” That was a good start, Mr. In-between knew that he had to be sorry. Queen In-between wouldn’t want her belongings burned, she spent a long time collecting such wonderful things, saying I’m sorry seemed like a good start. 

“I’m sorry Queenie, keep smiling, wherever you are, keep smiling”. To Mr. In-between that seemed like that right thing to say, an apology + a memory + a request. It seemed like the right thing to say. 

He placed the empty petrol can on the floor, resting it away from the circle. Out of his left hand came the matches, he opened up the box and took out a single unbroken match. There weren’t too many in the box, so he needed to be careful not to make too many mistakes. 

For a moment or two Mr. In-between practice the swish, getting the right flick of the wrist, the one he knew would light in the match as soon as it connected with the rough-paper on the side of the match-box. After perfecting the swish, he performed it on the match-box and the flame was made. 

Mr. In-between said those ten words again in his mind to Queen In-between before tossing the lit match onto the pile and watching it ignite with the petrol. The flame very quickly covered the pile and the smoke fled almost invisibly up into the voiding sky. 

Mr. In-between continued to watch the stars shine bright as the last of the belongings of the last of the old In-between’s burned just out of his sight. 

“Keep smiling, wherever you are, keep smiling”