Dylan and Björn - Over the distance
Dylan had not planned to stay with Chris.
He had made history when Alan had arranged the blankets on the couch and tried to soften when no one had turned off the lights.
There was need for solitude - will to darkness and silence. Fatigue, perhaps shame. Perhaps shame.
But if he opened his eyes still see the tiny light, shadow, and when changing position inevitably ended up turning around to return to the same side. It was like the beginning of so many stories - a dark night, footsteps in the dark and no moon. Alien places, all around.
walk and walk ...
He discovered that when you grow up you reach more isolated houses in the woods but in the distance that light could come from something far less poetic: the face of a digital alarm clock, for example - numbers drawn in light green and Chris regular breathing to mark the seconds. The sudden awareness of being in his room, among her things. The temptation to pet illogical.
was the first time that happened: Dylan never had the head for such ideas, nor had ever stop to imagine what feelings might prove Gabriel, in his place.
Yet that night, when he slipped into the bed of his friend, instead of raggomitolarglisi him as usual had been watching - instead of looking for his embrace had put his elbow on the mattress, she reached out. He had brushes her hair from her forehead, gently.
And then he slid his fingers on his temple, he had sunk among the tufts clear. It was even filed to press the lips on the cheek, the risk of waking him.
The next morning it was found curled up against him again - true - but the feelings of those moments he had left her like a premonition of a goal. A thread that had guided his steps along the streets of New York, later, and that led him to the record store. Up to curb the opposite, more accurately, where he remained motionless for perhaps an hour to imagine the scene of his sudden entrance - the tinkle of the bell on the door and was surprised to Ash, her smile. Images
lost.
That city had become too big - the prospects trespassed into the sky and was alienating, later realizing that it had nowhere else to go. Realizing that each route was interrupted on the day of his departure and that even his friends seemed to have continued without him.
Everyone had things to do, and time commitments. Appointments. The only reason that
Dylan had moved out of the house had been the need to go to get stuck into the fabric of everyday life, however, but when he went to seek his old job had discovered a conceited girl in her place, and when he rose from his parents' home had not found the courage to climb. Failed to even approach his apartment, for fear of accidentally meet the photographer.
Mike.
Mike - was repeated, trying to get familiar with that name. Trying to get used to it because Ash. To have something to give him when he would see.
And it was on the way out of that name that he had reminded Björn - the only person who always seemed to be lost as he was. Alien in the same way, away from itself.
from all.
now - sitting on the sidewalk in front of the store where the boy had told him to work - notes the shadows lengthen on the pavement and expect to see lower the shutters of the shops, to recognize his profile among the people. You can caress as he had done with Chris - fit the hair behind the ear and take care of her silences.
He knows that he would never do anything like that, of course: it reminds her problems and boundaries agreed - I remember everything.
But the first instinct is to throw her arms around his neck, when it appears in the distance - jumps up, pulling via the cap from his head, and it is as if suddenly a place he had found himself in that city.
A tiny place.
Björn, across the street, seems to be made of the same matter of the visions and is so fair that for a moment my heart skipped a beat.
strange that the thought of Raven comes to mind right now, as opposed to. As if to ratify the terms of a different perspective and an awareness now totally assimilated - how to touch a picture. And touch a body.
not much left but a heartfelt tenderness, later, when Dylan joined him in the chaotic bustle of the sidewalk.
"I saw him, eh, one more blond than you, "he begins, adding Björn on the right. "And to say that I thought was impossible, that naive ..."
is higher than the rest of the passers-by - someone hits the shoulder as the footsteps stopped and heads turned in the direction of the voice, naturally. While his eyes met those of Dylan - and he had forgotten what his eyes were clear. What could be defined with precision the circle of the pupil, in that blue overall.
"Dylan?" Feels asked, surprised. "You're back?"
"I thought it would be nice to have a drink together."
"Rosenfield has made me want you of tea? "Björn smiles and is looking to locate certain complicity. Maybe he needed to regain the space that was carved out, Dylan - pulling the strings of speeches already set up and enriched with new experiences.
Maybe, just needed a hot drink with someone who had eyes clear enough.
"Let's say I'm re-evaluating the after experiencing what it means to gorge themselves on chocolate and crisps," he muttered, wrinkling her nose. "Vivian is dangerous."
"Yes, I said there were known. I guess that chocolate has played some role ... "
A grimace.
"I had pimples for a week ..."
People keep hitting the elbow of the guy - have already turned on the lights in the street, with his chin when Dylan shows signs of a local blue.
"Serve the there?"
"We can try ..." is the answer. And he fits the
the leg under the seat, sitting in one of the tables, before I realized that going to order a tea in a cafe frequented by customers in a suit and tie.
Before you enjoy the secret pleasure of feeling more adult himself - straighten your back and cross your legs. Take a more composed. He has no idea
where he learned some things - were not part of his baggage when he left from New York, and people did not attend much larger than him, Rosenfield.
Yet he realizes that he instinctively adjusted his perception of himself, during the period he spent away from home, and also realizes that Ash knows nothing of what his discovery - which can not imagine what it means to feel eyes on me Raven and refine the seduction to make it concrete.
Dark.
Talking about his brother is even more difficult, in light of so great a distance.
"Now I'm Chris," explains Björn, and she can hardly say anything else.
"Do not should be easy for either you or Ash ... "murmured the boy, Dylan and thinks it was probably the tone of voice to push immediately to him. The gentleness with which articulates the words - a tendency not to ask for an explanation. To respect the silences.
"I just have to find a way to let him know that I love him." He adds. "More than anyone in the world."
Björn seems to understand as always - his clear eyes look at you as if you were the sky or water. Something transparent and clean.
"Do you think that going away is the use?"
"I do not know exactly," he says, with inspiring skiing. "I do not I have very clear ideas on this point and do not even know if I was right to come back ... But I knew a guy, "communicate, feeling his eyes light up with light. "And another one."
Pause.
"Two guys, really ..."
"Two guys?"
"Yes Hm ... "
Blushing slightly, Dylan starts to play with the menu.
"It was Vivian, at present," explains, as if that would immediately reassure the other that there is nothing dark, below. O perverse.
actually begin realizing that there is a tear between his need very clear to tell the story and the ability to do so - from the charm that evokes in him and wonder with which the skeptic might look at anyone, even his mother. Even she does not know how will you explain it when the time comes.
"I realize that is something a bit 'unusual ..." he murmurs, controlling the expression of cautious Björn at a glance does not seem shocked, only slightly uncomfortable.
"You ..." he began, then hesitated for a moment. "You're both in love with?"
"I do not ever fall in love," comes the reply, almost too fast. Accompanied by a sudden sense of anxiety - a node that Curtain closes the throat and the nerves. "It is, absolutely, it's just ..." A breath, uncertain. "It's just that Raven is half Native American, you know, and has very dark skin. But dark in a strange way, more soft. Almost Amber, I think, as when the whiskey is very very dense. "
Dylan bites her lip, realizing he had said virtually the same thing to Chris: there must be something really powerful, in the physicality of those conflicts, or perhaps it is only certain things that the strength of the discovery has little impact from the flesh is still alive too. Maybe it's trying to metabolize - to understand.
"I mean, it really is like a shadow, "he says, seriously. "And it's giving Jude reflexes. The nuances ... "The other smiled, gently. "Raven and Jude?"
"Yes. Together.
Silence.
"But one or the other, often, however, because Raven is also when there is only Jude. And vice versa. I think it's a bit 'complicated to explain ... "
" The only important thing is that you are happy. "
" Yes, hm. "
The truth is that Dylan did not absolutely clear that part of the question - could not be said to be happy to Rosenfield, where they were but there was no ash, and does not feel happy in New York where his brother still does not exist. Where, however, would miss them.
If he thought that would be enough memories to fill the void left by Raven and Jude were just a few days to realize that their presence was an essential weight - which has never been merely an affection but relationship much more physical, almost frightening in its concreteness.
Almost too real.
"I do not think I'll ever be happy," she says, as soon as the waiter brought the order and the clear eyes of Björn are back to fall upon him. "I always imagined that I would something happened. From an early age. "
" Do not be absurd, Dylan. It will certainly be happy, and soon. You're just going through a difficult period. "
" is that you have no idea what it is ... "he murmurs, and is silent for a moment before adding:" Having a sister ... "
Sometimes if you ask what it might mean, to be unique - growing out of someone who grows as your own rhythms and that are formed in your own forms. Without someone who is a yourself on which you can not have any control - someone without whom you would never, however. Not completely.
And get dizzy, imagining the endless solitude. Look at the hands of Björn open on the table and be sure that certain freedoms are always scary. Always
inconceivable alien.
"At the end is not so bad, this tea," he says, trying to defuse the anxiety into a smile. Trying to distract the mind from that vicious circle - thinking of nothing else.
Yet the question comes after more intimate, just a moment's hesitation.
Just time to take a look.
"Can I ask you something, Björn?"
"Sure."
He would never have thought to go that far - feel so lost by not knowing where to seek help and to receive answers from the only groped person who is probably lost as he was. Above him, maybe.
is strange, because under normal conditions do not ever open up that topic with Björn.
It can not understand what's so different today - what it makes you feel so close to him to convince him to spend a lot groped a risky and difficult.
Dangerous.
"If it were a person you love, to touch you ..." whispered - almost a whisper. "A person whom you love very much, I mean." Pause.
Lift your eyes on him, undecided.
"How can you, when you have no idea how you might react? I mean. If you have a lot of fear. Of what you might try ... "
"I'm not sure I understand what you're talking ..." replied the other, and he immediately hurried to straighten her back. Drink in one gulp the last mouthful of tea, remove the cup on the table. Pushing back his chair, smiling.
"None. Nothing. Take no notice. "
had never come so close to confess his secret to someone and suddenly realize that dissolves in cold blood a terror - something paralyzing.
had not noticed so much to uncover as she spoke, and had not noticed that his heart began to beat that.
He had forgotten that the other side of the mirror there are no holds and there are no escape routes - there are no discounts. It was naive.
Absurd.
"Can I come and get to work some other time in the future?" Björn question, but can barely throw a glance. Walk on the sidewalk without noticing people, then, one step after another. After another.
It no longer knows whether to go back to Chris, if you change direction and go to his parents. If there is still the apartment she shared with Ash, from somewhere in the city - if that anguish will never go away. If Jude has been looking for.
Raven.
claim airport looms as a reminder - Dylan stops the race remains close and stared at the sign for a few minutes while people cross the street and the traffic light turns red and then green. And then, still red, the cars lined up in a snake of lights.
Dinner time is long past, when it finally comes into the house of his friend.
"Dee!" Chris exclaimed, jumping up. "But where have you been, have you seen what time is it?"
He blinked, stopping the movement, he expected the scene of all time - Chris and Alan on the phone with someone committed to zapping the channels, the background music . The order blank for a foreign environment, alien noises. Instead, there
Ash, on the couch - Ash with flowing hair and red eyes, pointed a hand on the pillow. The familiar yearning of the lips, eyes.
green, and deep.
For a moment it is as if the heat wave exploded at once - a relief almost too intense to wince and smile. Move the hand over her mouth, almost breathless.
"Ash!" Dylan says, first to remember the rest.
Immediately after the confusion of conflicting impulses that blocks the steps - that turns heads towards Chris. Look for answers from him, in a single uncertain demand, "Ash?"
"It's not a hallucination, yes," is the laughter, irony, while his friend lets go back in his chair. "Can you believe it?"
"Fuck you," hisses his brother, before passing a hand through his hair. Throwing him look uncertain, almost shy. "It's a problem if I dine here? Alan says he has already cooked for four ... "
Maybe that's what hurts the most: the custom event. Once it was all too normal dinner together by Chris - there were guitars, later, music and laughter.
now seems to be talking about some kind of gambling, however, and it is heartbreaking to see that the mind really is considering, the possibility of escape. Finding an excuse, to give in to fear. To despair.
"No. No, I'm glad you're there, "Dylan says, however, and is sincere in that case. Why can not stop staring though his brother does not know how to approach - because the desire to approach even if it is a very strong fear. Although it will be held at a safe distance, probably.
pulling off the tee, Chris turns to an uncertain smile.
"I have scrubbed the job," communicates.
"What dogs?"
"Hm."
Ash is still there, across the room, and it is as if the center of gravity has moved halfway between their bodies - Dylan plunges his hands into his pockets and hardly knows how to move, where to go. What lay eyes while biting his lip.
"There was a little girl told me to turn away."
"The girls are dangerous, I've always said," the friend says, casually.
On the couch, Ash closed fists - just change position.
"You know ..." He clears his throat. "You're going to look somewhere else?"
"When I entered there was bone in the waiting room. I did the holidays, "he mutters, as if to prove his relation to those dogs that had a more exhaustive. The
crying, when I remember that moment. The
to cry even if it is local mind the fact that Ash is there, in fact.
"Have you talked to the owner?" Question Chris. "Maybe it can give you some other time ... Or maybe the brat is being tested and quarrel with a dog tomorrow morning ..."
But the brat seemed perfectly at ease in the store - you'd say that she was managing, security showing. From the menacing look with which he recalled that he was gone without even warn - seemed like a responsible attitude? Thought to be even kindergarten, maybe?
Shrugging his shoulders, Dylan controls the expression of Ash.
"Maybe I'll try somewhere else ..." he says, but it is difficult to avoid thinking about it. Difficult to distract the mind from that and the sense of rootlessness, the inability to participate in the evening. And the perception of the presence of Ash - razor sharp.
strong.
There are pizzas with tuna for dinner - Chris distributes the slices on plates and Alan freewheeling chat. The clatter of dishes fills the spaces between the words, try to focus attention on the bickering of friends. It strives to recognize moments already lived, at different times.
But Dylan is not the voice, if he tries to join the discussion stops, and if it requires the eye to move elsewhere once he realizes his brother is still watching the stars, studying their expressions. Waiting for the smiles like waiting for spring, or a crack of air to breathe.
Perhaps they always will from now on - the irreconcilable dualism takes the form of emotions and every beat of the heart will create a new pain, each image will draw its reflected part.
Only a few days before seemed impossible to think of remaining moments like this: sit around a table with old friends, even with Ash who lives in un metro di distanza, e riconoscere suo fratello in una gestualità amata fino allo sfinimento – la maniera in cui si porta la forchetta alla bocca, l’onda dei capelli che scivola sulla spalla.
Ciglia abbassate in corone di silenzio.
Eppure basta risalire un poco più indietro nei mesi perché l’angoscia chiuda lo stomaco – perché quella tensione sotterranea divida i ragazzini che sono stati dalle persone che sono adesso e la ferita del disagio riapra i lembi come un fiore terribile, come un vetro rotto.
Specchio affilato.
Fa male, la paura di incontrare i suoi occhi - fa male che le ginocchia non si sfiorino e che non ci siano sorrisi complici da scambiarsi, fanno male i nervi allertati. The embarrassment. It hurts not being able to burst into tears because in the end even that is a lie, another lie that has the taste of sweetness and sorrow. Looks to look for secret signs on the body of the photographer Ash - nausea from having to swallow. The sense of guilt, awful.
Even when others are silent unison Alan says, removing the plate: "We would like Mike to finish the whole 'this shit, shit!"
Dylan knew that something would happen, he also knew that the heart was frozen in that and so that the blood would have fallen on his feet - put him in mind: not enough dirty looks to Chris, to stem the carelessness of Alan and you can not run away forever from certain things.
You can not even kill yourself now, because when the eyes are raised Dylan discovers that the tension has become more rigid, shoulders, Ash, and hastened to swallow the sick as if it were to swallow some medicine. As if the one depended on the smile of his brother, now and forever. From what
only.
"Mike ..." he chuckles, a little 'hard. Add gingerly, trying to look as natural as possible, "Mike likes pizza?"
not think I've ever asked a question most banal and for a moment that seems unbreakable silence - perhaps nobody will ever talk more, think him, perhaps the world will always remain as still as now, as in fairy tales. Still, dumb. Then Ash
coughing, though - change position. As he talks he closes his eyes, exhausted.
"Mike likes almost anything ..." she heard muttering, a little 'uncertain. "As long as it is edible. Perhaps. "
reopens When he discovers that Ash is raising eyebrows look on his face, embarrassed.
"You can not make a lot of problems when it comes to swallow something ..."
And suddenly everything becomes possible, also support that dialogue. Even to speak of a photographer, to pronounce his name.
Inhale deeply, Dylan try a smile and more convinced: "Neither should grow ..."
"Sometimes a little 'seems the child," says Ash, before launching a look at Chris and Alan. "I mean, get along with these two ..."
"He loves us because we offered him dinner once," Alan nods. "And the cookies."
But he has finished every resource - no more strength to speak or to listen to nothing else.
"I go to the bathroom a second," he announces. Cautious.
And again could not say if its efforts have brought more relief or discomfort - Ash seemed to have calmed and this makes him feel good, it's like a weight lifted from my heart. Yet the loneliness became almost unfathomable, on the other side - that side of the mirror where his brother will never come, where there are the hours spent with the photographer and there is the imprint of his hands. Where there are no words that she whispered in his ear.
that side of Ash, Dylan will always be excluded.
And no consolation to realize that this is right, that would happen sooner or later. So that certain things he never could whisper, the ear of his sister. That might not have known what to say, really.
back in the kitchen when the others are already clearing the table and the only conscious desire is to be able to put in a bed, a bed whatsoever. Sleep, and that's it.
"Are you okay?"
almost startled, as soon as Chris puts his hand on the shoulder.
"Hm."
Silence.
"I was pee," it prevents him. The other
down his eyes to heaven but slides his arm around his waist - it draws closer.
"You look tired," he says, kissing his temple. "Sleep?"
"Hm."
"seems about to fall asleep standing up."
"Hm," he repeats Dylan - as if articulate any other word would cost too much effort now.
As if we really had the energy spent in the name of the photographer in meeting the eyes of Ash and discover more alive. A transfer of power, almost.
will recall himself curled up on the couch the next morning, her cheek pressed to Chris's neck and eyelids heavy - the view to slide continuously on the profile of his brother to be able to convince themselves that they are really sharing the same space, breathing the same air .
It's like a bad dream faded on the threshold of a nightmare in training - other than a nightmare and had, but terrible in its way comforting. Inconsistent. Why
Ash is there, and if is terribly difficult to stand by him has never ceased to be absolutely beautiful, too - just let the body drop to fatigue and the perception is muffled, everything returns to fixate within the confines of his presence.
There is a loud movie on TV - Dylan could not say what it is.
He can not tell what time it is finished or when Chris has taken back home to his brother - the anxiety has woven into the nerves in his sleep. He has a smile, open your fists.
The last conscious thought is an intention to cut his hair to make hair grow back like his, wait as long as necessary. Years, maybe.
Then comes sleep at a time unknown. A moment lost.
And that idea, like everything else, falls into a dark abandoned.
Sometimes the desire to return home is like a breath slips into the lungs as was inevitable, reducing them, fills them. It dissolves in the blood to spray all the periphery of the body - to mark every inch of skin with the trace of a memory, by defining your present. Your past. When
blew it out, breathe out, the future is the same as always. Only older.
And you can not deny yourself the cowardice to lay my head - New York let's go back to swallow, that time more than accelerating the contours of a chamfer city needs to address that do not know. Fears that have no name calling and you do not know - the truth that is more convenient to keep secret. Close
in silence. Let sleeping. See Dylan
that afternoon was sweet and at the same time was like the far too late in a mirror in front of him sitting at the table apart, Björn wanted to reach out to meet her, ask for Vivian, asking that the road has path to find the courage.
The temptation to cheat was almost irresistible: deceive himself that perhaps it was convincing enough that was another to make that trip, that the return of Dylan could also mark a new season of her life, new steps and new leather dress.
different eyes, with less heavy eyelids, and a different attitude to flee. A different strength.
It was hard to stop in front of the house, then his gaze fixed on the steps and walk down the concrete. Realizing that the sky was the same as when he got up that morning, that there was nothing foreign in the air. No revelation, and no mystery.
lower lashes for a moment and exhale slowly. Collision
empty.
Maybe if Mike had found waiting for him would have been different - there would be her chatter to distract the mind from the thought of Vivian, his adventures to fill your ears, and he would not need to think about what he has lost. A
what actually may have never even had.
He could be sweet. Or even painless.
Instead, the apartment was empty and for a moment the emptiness seemed to expand to encompass the whole world: Björn had been standing in the doorway, without being able to move the necessary step to cross. As if his body had become too big, suddenly - and clumsy, and rather incongruous to occupy always the same space. Dissociation
lasted a split second, but was was sufficient to sweep away all remaining doubt. And maybe that's why, hours later, is still sitting in a chair without finding even the desire to get up to prepare dinner, the phone dropped in her lap and an open book to one side, leaning on the arm.
The prospect fills him to call Vivian at the same time of anxiety and impatience every time it is more difficult to believe that really worth to stay far away, it can be embraced only by voice. Whenever it is more difficult to shake off the knowledge that is a weakness, that his need to put away - a privilege that is paying a high price, forcing his brother to serve the sentence.
It was five years since I walked away really - since he led the way home, since he is forced to leave behind certain situation to ensure all the serenity as possible. And it's a bit 'as it disappointed now.
As he left his hand after forcing him to fly.
Perhaps the guilt would not be as strong if Bjorn would have more confidence in the fact that Vivian is fine - that is reacting to the fullest. Or maybe it was sufficient to be able to keep him out of trouble in the past when he could evaluate certain habits with their own eyes and yet had not been able to stand. Protect it. It is also cowardly
that cling to its particular futile, now that there's so much space between them - Albert that question carefully, trying to figure out what his assurances can be empty. Why Vivian, however, has always been adept at it.
It also means letting talk to divert to less impervious land, after all. Is to ignore certain marshes and pretend not to know too well the dangers.
Each time, she wonders if it would be wiser to avoid the topic altogether - every time she wonders if it would be better to address it seriously, openly. To silence their concerns at all, or give them a reason to exist. Something more than just a founded suspicion.
Despite this, when he finally decides to write his number, he also knows he will not find the courage to do one thing or the other - that will continue to grope in the same limbo, unable to choose between the need to protect and let the to protect himself. Vivian or cling to him as a shield.
has always been the dilemma, perhaps. The most ambiguous - even when he was a kid.
"Björn?"
Moreover, even for his brother was always the same, maybe. It may be that there is a node - a fundamental error, where it all began: the first time I opened the Björn door of his room and his bed is, for the first time he clutched to his chest to comfort him from a nightmare, without admitting that he was in need of a hug.
Listening to his voice, now, it also lacks the determination to hold back a smile.
"Hello, Ljus. How are you? "
There is something oddly relaxing in exchanging pleasantries with someone you know so well.
It's like the speeches that are made immediately on rising, even before breakfast: a tutorial for the rest of the day, when you need to develop the real content, and at the same time a way to wake up gradually. Decipher what kind of night softly had the other - if you are able to sleep if you stayed up too long. His mood. Björn
can almost imagine the fold of the lips of Vivian, as he listens to - guess the fun tone of exasperation in which he complains of Albert, and the tension almost intangible something which makes no mention, however, which may not even want to think . It can weigh up to himself the opportunity to question him and immediately discard the idea, move over.
"I saw Dylan, now," offers, and is rewarded dall'alleggerirsi tone Vivian.
The widening of his smile.
"Really? He returned safe and sound? I was a bit 'worried when he left the race - there was something wrong between him and Jude, and Raven, and I do not even know ... "
" He told me something, yes, "murmurs Björn, interrupting, because he knows too well that when the boy is excited it may take whole minutes before he has to catch his breath.
"It sounds like a story ... complicated," said cautiously.
"Hm. A little 'a mess, yes, "agrees Vivian. "But it's okay?"
"I still have to get used to the idea of returning."
He glanced out the window, Then, watch the sky darken.
"And who is not able to solve all the problems he had before leaving. But I've seen better than last time, for sure. Changed. "
" Growing? "
" Maybe, "he admits, and is to imagine that track could have left those months on the face of his brother. If you see him as a natural return home after a period in travel, or if there is a subdued emotion when Dylan was not able to tighten the arms that afternoon.
If there is the same unbelief, and the inexplicable sense of a time that continues, in spite of any interruption.
Beyond any distance.
Clear, like water in a river.
"It was strange to see him, really," she says. "To speak of you with him. It made me ... "Pause. "I wanted to be there."
is not the first time the distance of Vivian seems to become an impassable chasm, able to drain and close the throat.
After a lifetime spent in orienting himself in the direction of that child is inevitable, perhaps - a truth that would not even need to explain lined words. There has never been reticent in their say I love you - there was never a time when Björn had the perception that affection could be stifling for a young boy. Or that he doubted to be equally important.
There was never an occasion when I miss her Vivian does not respond with something equivalent.
But now, the silence that accepts his words did not appear to resemble those moments - it's more tense, almost tormented, crossed only by the boy's breathing fast. Since its
drag the break. Dilate.
turn it into a new vortex. In a magnet.
Björn is already feeling fall, when he finally hears him whisper, "I must tell you something."
"A what?"
swallows, looking away from the window. He closes his eyes for a moment, breathe.
"Are you hurt?" Question, trying to keep calm.
"No. Does not concern me, not ... "Vivian hesitated, lowering his voice. "It's nothing bad, either. I think. "
" Ljus. What happened? "
" This is Samuel. "
For a moment, it's as if time stopped. Björn
opens his eyes and stares at the wall in front of you - the angle of cut white exterior lighting on the wall, the sharp edge of the frame in which Mike has penned a her photo. The reflections on the glass and shadows, the profile of the sofa at the edge of the field.
slowly let go of the breath.
"Samuel?"
"Weldon," elaborates Vivian, adding immediately: "The writer."
And he would say that there is no need to specify - it is pointless to ask Samuel if something happened to him, if it goes well. He would like to ask if he has met and why, if you have spoken, if the man asked him. If he tried. Know whether he said something and Vivian replied - to know how he was. What did you think.
would mean something, any one word: break the circle of silence and the cover of ice that seems to have wrapped around the item, take a breath and push down the blood - let it be the one to fill the body again. To give him depth.
not make any noise, however, while listening to Vivian continue to explain in a tone more and more scared and trying to tidy up the information that are raining down on him. Try to give them meaning.
size.
"I did not know you knew, when I first met you, I swear. I went to take a lesson for his curiosity, nothing more, and then I found myself one evening and looked so tired and I was alone and did not want to go back to Albert and did not know where to go. It was like being with you, maybe, I should have known immediately but I did not think at all, and he was talking about but you never said your name and only the other day I got there. And even he had no idea, he never even suspected. And there is absolutely nothing happened between us, Björn, I swear, I know how well Albert had misunderstood but know Sam, he could never touch, even without knowing that I was your brother, I have only ever given a place where to stay and never asked for anything in return, not even ... "
" Vivian. "
Björn clears his throat.
In the receiver, his brother was quiet. The silence is almost
too busy now, but he felt his head throb to the wealth of information and is still treated as a chore to find the right words. An effort to even think.
Resting his head against the chair back, let the wind near the nose and throat for a moment it seems that everything can find a way. Ordered. Then
Vivian murmurs in a voice impalpable, "Are you angry?", And he is open my eyes suddenly. A bend forward, running a hand over his face. Incredulous.
"Angry? Ljus like that pops into your head ... "
" You called me Vivian, "is the answer. "It would have reason to resent with me. These are days that I know, that you keep it hidden. "
" I do not ... "He takes another breath, deep. "I'm not angry, okay? I'm just ... confused. I do not know what to think. And as he spoke I felt that you were shaking and I needed to stop. To think .... Just this. "
" Are you sure? "
" Ljus, you have not done anything that I could take it. "Swallows. "At best, it's you who should be angry with me. What I never told anything about this story, or to Samuel. "
" It was fidavi why not me? "Application Vivian.
to sink back in his chair, he pushes his hand to rub his forehead. Sigh.
"No. Absolutely.
"Why Albert said it, that was not the reason. But ... I do not understand why, then, I guess. "
The nape sunk in the pillow, Björn notes the thickness of the dark enclosed behind the eyes and try to stay as much as possible aware of your body - the size of the arms, the movements of the chest . The heartbeat - regular - and the sudden rasping throat, a burning dry. Desire to drink.
The prospect of explaining to his brother because it has not given a share of an important event as the meeting Samuel fills it with the same confusion that arose in the face to support a discussion with him on the writer to talk about it would be necessary to sink your fingers in a formless matter, confused, buried in some remote corner of consciousness. It would be like to go back into the past - mistakes made and the curve after curve, you find yourself alone, lost in a labyrinth of rationalizations and diagnosis. Be lean and reviews.
is easier to ignore certain things. Leave them behind and pretend it does not matter - to pretend not to see them, do not register them, not manage them.
And so, during those months, Björn has held meetings with Samuel secret even to himself - Everything was silent because they do not talk with Vivian Vivian meant not having to give a name to what was happening. Why not give the name meant not having to find the words, and avoid the words meant to remain innocent.
not admit liability. Not having to choose.
"I can not explain why, Vivian," he murmurs, and it's like a defeat. "No ... I have not even thought of, you know? It was not an intentional thing, I decided not to tell you. It is as if I had not even imagined the possibility of doing so. "
" Albert said it was complicated. "
He smiles bitterly. "Complicated, yes. Albert is right in these things. "
the other end of the line, Vivian seems to hesitate - for a moment, Bjorn thinks maybe try the same to him a few questions. Give direction to the speech in the hope that this might help, not realizing that in a moment like that silence is the only size available. The only salvation - relaxing.
"I do not want to talk about even now, right?" Feels rather ask, finally, adding that to hasten to correct: "Just about anything? Do not even want to know anything? "
And even before the brain has processed the relief, and organized forces to give the language policy No form of the word , Björn hear his voice saying: "You could talk about you, maybe?"
be specified at once: "Tell him. What he is doing. "
Then, even as the tension melts Vivian and his speech begins to flow like a river carrying with it distracted Samuel and his smiles and faces that he remembers mixed with those not seen and not imagined ones, feels like an empty desert vibrate in space under the meat - a stretch cord inside the nerves, breathing solidify.
Below the voice - that of Vivian, that of Samuel - there is silence and the irresistible urge to keep it. There is the expanse of snow and fatigue to be just awful - the need to remain so.
Allow the breath to expand and collect everything.
The truth is that it is not ready to think seriously about what it means to have left behind Samuel - what it means in front of him, in an unspecified time in the future, until perhaps, just perhaps already established.
Vivian's words are slippery and the portraits he paints too fluid, elusive - you can not retain their meaning, use them to build rational position to decide what to do.
An impulse might be to take the phone and dial the number of the writer - call themselves, with their ears to hear that Samuel is real and that's fine. But
months that temptation is blocked before it can take root - months that the thought did not have time to form and are already lower lashes, and Björn knows that even though he was able to focus - if you were to weigh rationally the ability to call Samuel to speak to him - would be other problems, other obstacles to overcome, the barriers to be removed. The truth - too ugly and uncomfortable - to be accepted.
That only closes her eyes, letting the voice of his brother to draw the boundaries.
This is content to listen snow and silence overlapping with the name of Samuel, almost painful image of his hands resting on the head by Vivian. The sweetness of her eyes and remember the first time you are talking - the words of God sick and statues in the park. The gate to cross like entering another world and dimension hushed, dreamlike, of those rooms illuminated by the warmth of the fireplace.
is sweet in some way - another trip back, another way to approach the house and get rid of that heavy fatigue. Shrug off fears as an animal could become entangled with the shower in the fur - a dry time. Indulge
a break in the stasis exhausting.
knows that tomorrow will be completely different that just cut off communication with Vivian because the dark shadows and come back to wrap to encircle, to force him into a corner pinning him against the wall. Too little light can, in the darkest nights, and not just the flame of a fireplace to ward off the chill of awareness that took root when he was still a child.
There was never any illusion on: Björn knows very well and will not be permitted to forget it.
But for now can afford the peace and pretend not to have lost her too many times already - forget New York and can only think of Vivian, Samuel; convince that in the future will find warmth without forcing him into exile, which is not always necessary for a war to conquer the road back home.
dream that maybe the night will melt in the dawn and will no longer only the white of the snow to give relief in the dark, but all the colors of the day. A new sweetness. And at that time someone will be able to embrace his return. Human hands and the hands of a child. That he can love both touch and indulge in both with the same relief. With the same confidence with which now, lulled by the memory of Vivian, surrenders to sleep.
Without fear, nightmares, without yielding their ground.
slow relaxation.
breath and to melt into each other fear - every thought.
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