Things I sort-of like

May rustles around in the plastic bag for a few moments before handing the small book to Ethan. He glares at the book, and then back at her,

“You’re having me on. There were no others you could have picked up?”

He scorns at the pink sparkly hardback diary in his hands. Flipping the pages, observing the contents. ‘Gratitude’ is pasted in big bold glittery letters on the front cover.

“It’s the only one they had in the store so it’ll have to do. Besides, the outside of it doesn’t matter. Who’s going to see it anyway?” She places the plastic bag on the side and returns back to her chair by the window.

The small wooden kitchen table is littered with markers of every shade and stickers of flowers, animals and small people. Ethan’s sister, May, is engrossed in her own little book. The pages are filled to the brim with detail and colour, lists and small photographs of friends and family. He pulls up a chair on the other side of the table and sinks into it, observing her artistry. He grimaces as he places his new sparkly, pink book on the table, and opens the first page. May glances over to read the first page with him, before continuing with her own work. 

“So, how do I start?” Ethan asks, scratching his head.

“The first page is usually a good indicator I’d say.”

The clock ticks, and no movement has been made other than Ethan and his consistent shuffling and fidgeting in his seat.

“You stuck?” May looks over at the empty pages.

“No, I’m just distracted by all the glitter and trying to think that’s all.”

“For 20 minutes? Let me see.” May stands from her chair, clutching the diary to her chest, and peers over his shoulder. The first page is titled, ‘10 things you like!’ with little hearts over the ‘i’s followed by 10 bullet points. Other than the little hearts that have been coloured in, the first bullet point has not been touched by Ethan’s pen.

“Yep, that’s always the first step of gratitude.” She looks at his empty list, “Can you not think of anything at all?”

Ethan rubs his eyes, “It feels useless, I feel ridiculous, and I don’t see how writing about how much I like,” He scoffs, “I don’t know, the colour blue, is going to help.”

“Do you like the colour blue?”

Ethan sighs and shrugs his shoulders, “It’s alright,” he continues, "I don't particularly love anything that much, I like things, but I just can’t think of them right now. It’s like when someone asks about your favourite movie and you forget everything you’ve ever watched.”

“You’re overthinking it too much, it doesn’t need to be your top 10 most loved things ever in the history of the universe,” May opens her diary and skips to the front pages, “Look here.” 

She turns the diary around to Ethan and points to an old bullet list, also titled ‘10 things you like’. The first bullet point read, ‘My Parents’, the second followed ‘Cats’ and the third read ‘Mac and cheese’. He reads over and frowns. She closes her diary in response and hesitates a moment,

“Listen, instead of things you really love, I found it easy to start with things you just, sort-of like. Look around the room. Really pay attention to it.” May perches back in her seat and continues highlighting her page with an orange marker.

“You don’t have to get it all on day one.”

Ethan begins to study the room, they didn’t have a lot of, well, anything really. Their apartment is small, the one window they have beside the kitchen table is small and you can barely see out of it. The chair he is sitting on is crooked and wobbles when he moves, and so does the table. It’s always so cold in the living room. They only have one picture of their parents left hanging up. All his socks have holes in them, and his underwear does too. The bag of groceries in which he pulled out the diary from is small. The tap doesn’t ever stop dripping and the neighbour’s dog never shuts up. May’s house plants take up so much room. May leaves her stuff everywhere. May’s laundry is everywhere, and so is his. She must have done the laundry this morning before she went out for groceries. Ethan’s focus trails back to the small grocery bag, he gets up and goes to investigate the contents and starts to unpack, stacking the small fridge with milk, butter, eggs and orange juice; the smooth one this time not the one with bits in. Thank God, he thought, pouring himself a glass by the sink, I hate the juice with bits in. 

“I remembered the smooth one this time, I know you like that one better, I was just so used to buying it for Dad, y’know” May murmurs, hearing the glass being poured, still engrossed in her diary.

He takes a sip from the glass, swirls it around his mouth for a few seconds and then swallows, “Thanks, May.” It tasted sweeter than usual. He sets down the glass and picks up the laundry scattered in a heap on the ground, folding it into separate piles on one of the sofa arms before returning to his journal at the table. Ethan takes the pen, pressing it to the first bullet point, then stops to look over at May. She didn’t have to get this for me, but she did. She just wants you to cope as well. He puts his pen to the paper.

There is no more light emanating from the small kitchen table window, evening has set in, the neighbour’s dog is quiet. May is packing away her markers and stickers, her hands are covered in ink. Ethan takes a deep stretch, cracking his back before getting up and heading into the hallway.

“So, did you get very far? How do you feel?” May asks, still packing away her things.

“Meh, I’ll try with my new sparkly friend again tomorrow.” Ethan says through a yawn.

May waits, listening out. Upon his bedroom door closing, she creeps over to his side of the table and opens the first page. I shouldn’t really, it’s his business, she thinks to herself, but curiosity about how her brother is feeling after everything meant a lot to her. The diary was her idea after all, and he actually listened to her when she suggested it this time. As she scans the first page, she smiles to herself as it is filled with more doodles and scribbles than anything else. No wonder he was using so many of my markers, she thought, but at least he had written something down:

• Smooth orange juice
• May
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