Monday, January 12, 2015

I Love You: Blue Fire In my Veins

  In which is a very small story I wrote once, about a very weighty subject. 

 1:I want my voice back 
2: I want my family always to be happy 
  Dear Dairy,
 Those are two things I hurt to have and probably won't ever get.
We do get along better, after I got back from the hospital, but they're still the same old them. They all tried to learn sign language for me, but I usually resort to pen and paper. They like that better. 

  I never really thought I talked much back when I could talk, but now that I can't, it's strange how quiet the house seems, despite my brothers bickering, like they are right now. I can hear them, loud and clear. Ever since that addicting video game, they've done nothing but fight over it. I would go see if I can break it up, since mom doesn't want to deal with it anymore, but they won't listen to me. Ha, There's nothing to listen too

Dad just entered the argument. His big voice makes up for my nonexistent one. I feel bad for daddy. He works so hard for us, and it upsets him when we argue. Especially tonight. 

You see, He wants to take the canoe out to the lake tomorrow, and go fishing, just like good old times when none of us kids were annoying teenagers. He just told mom about it at dinner...she wasn't to happy about the whole last minute thing. I had to tell her I would make lunch, and help dad load the canoe, for her to finally agree to go. And she still isn't happy. 

Now, dad feels bad about it, mom feels bad about it, and Mark and I are doing most of the work for it. That's OK, if it will only show them I love them. My kid brother Adam is the only one who's really looking forward to it. 

I love that boy. He's only 7, and I guess it's kind of strange that a 15-year old girl would enjoy her little brother that much, but I do. He is a colorful, sunshiny kid. He makes my silent world loud and happy again. I don't know what I would do without that troublesome little nut. Probably shrivel up and die from unhappiness. I'm not sure why, but every time his freckled face occupies the room, the atmosphere loses all its tension. Except when he's playing that game. 

Well, I had better go get things ready for that “fun” day tomorrow.
 Signing off,

 It's hot out. I try not to touch the sides of the big metal canoe, for fear of getting burned. I wave to Mom's tiny figure on shore, reading a book and looking pretty relaxed. That makes me feel better. At least she is having a semi-good time.

 I hear a contagious belly laugh from Adam as we row out so deep, I can't see anything but blue underneath us. He had a fake worm in his fingers, getting an insane amount of enjoyment from wriggling it like it was alive

"Angie, it's going to eat me!" He giggles.I can't help but smile, just because he found it so funny. Mark and Dad grin, too. Just because he was smiling. And happy. Carried away with his own antics, he started tossing the worm in the air, juggling it back and forth. It falls in the water with a plop. 

With a high, piercing shriek, he is in head first after his new-found toy.
I panic. What was he thinking? He can't swim! He hadn't bothered to put his life vest on. Stupid. Stupid, wonderful little kid I can't live without. We all stare in frozen shock as his feet disappear down into the dark blue of the lake. I dive in after them. 

I kick down, force my eyes open. It's murky, it stings. But a thought just keeps ringing in my head, “ can't lose him, can't lose him, find him, find him, find...” 

 I let out a bubble of air. The pressure starts in on my lungs. I thrash around, groping, looking, feeling. I'm getting deep, and still no Adam. Just blue below and a lighter blue above. I go deeper. It feels like I have been down here for minutes. I can feel the slowing beat of my own heart in my ears. Three thumps. I have only been down here for seconds. Calm down, Angela. You know have plenty of air left. 

Keep looking.

 Something brushes my ankle. I grab it. It's a shock of that curly thick hair of his. His arms flail weakly. I look at his face. Brush that red hair out of his eyes. They are squeezed tight, shut against the cool water. At least he is conscious. He opens one eye, finds my gaze. I try to give him a reassuring look. But we're down deep now. My heart begins to go faster with fear. It grows louder, bigger, feels like it's exploding in my chest. My lungs are bursting, too. 

 I remember Adam's crooked smile, of all things. I had to see that smile again. I pushed up again, holding Adam tight. I put my hand on his chest. Was I imagining his heart beat, or was that deafening thumping all me? He can't have had much air in him when he screamed and jumped in. Can I fill him with air? I have to try. 

I hold his face up. 

  Put my mouth to his.

     Breath out, everything out, of my aching lungs.

 I feel his little chest expand slightly under my grasp.

 For a skinny little boy, Adam is heavy. I try to kick upward. I just go lower. He is dragging me down. It's like pulling a bag of bricks up. I put my hands around his little waist. Concentrate. Go up. The water starts to look a cloudy black. No, not the water. My eyes. My eyes are doing this to me. I shut them. I don't need to look anymore. I have him. 

Every muscle strains itself upward. It works! It hurts worse that my throat did after I lost my voice, but I'm going up! A little more. Kick again. 

Keep going.

 Arms shaking, I push him up, up, up above my head. It pushes me down more, but I don't have the strength to pull myself up anyway. Hurts too much. I hold him up, just a little higher. Are we even close to the top? My body burns hot with pain. Every blood vein in every limbs lights up like a match, pulsing with blue heat.

 I want it to stop. 

I am on fire under all this water.
  My air is gone. Adam gets even heavier, so heavy I want to collapse into myself. Suddenly, violently, his weight is whisked upward. The shadow of the canoe is over me.

The fire in my veins is gone now. I feel pleasant, dreamy. My eyes are wide open again. I watch sunlight above me, see bubbles break those rays of light into a hundred different shades of blue. 

Adam will smile again.

 He will talk. 

He will be sunshine,

   breaking into glorious colors,

      for everyone to bask in, and smile back.  



The little church was filled with people he didn't even know. But he wanted to tell them. About Angela. About love. About something he couldn't even understand, but that filled his heart up to overflowing.

Adam lowered the microphone. Looked over at the shiny coffin, covered in flowers. A picture of a smiling Angela sat atop it, facing him. She was making the I love you sign with he her hand. 
 He squeezed his eyes tight, but a tear came out anyway. He wiped it away.

“Angela loved me,” he said. His voice was shaking. He brushed away another tear. “ Angela loved me, and I never showed her I loved her. She was so nice to me. I made her laugh. A lot. But...and...”

 He stopped, trying to breath evenly. All those people, looking at him. They were all crying too.  HE ran off the podium. Put his sleeve over his face, trying to cover his sobs. Ran out the doors.

 Out back, he sobbed into his mothers shoulder.
 “I wish I could have showed her I loved her. I never showed her that I loved her!"


 Okay, so this story just came to me one day, when I wanted to write about how love is what you do, and not what you say.

 You can say I love you, or I care about you, all you want, but when it comes  to giving people your time, your money, your care, yourself, I felt strongly that we do not show it enough.

I have other I Love You short stories floating around in my head, covering other aspects of love. Coming soon, I  hope.
Blue Fire in My Veins will probably be the most serious, don't worry. 

The sacrifice of a life is a rather drastic example, I know. But it kind of reminds me how someone gave His life for all of us, even though we are not worth it. 

1 comment:

  1. A very good story, Jillian! You did an excellent job writing it. You brought tears to my eyes, and inside I wept. You made me stop and think. What a important reminder! How are we loving others? And thank you for the reminder at the end, too. How greatly we have been loved! Thank God for His unending love, from which we love those around us! . . . So much to contemplate . . . - Becca Lee