Hollow

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A surge of memory washed over me as we walked into the ice cream parlour and I struggled to smother my sudden tears. He had wanted to surprise me.

“Hey, what kind do you want?” I looked over at the strapping young man beside me.

“Chocolate,” I managed to choke out, turning quickly away from him to take a seat at the window tables. He came over with two cones practically toppling over with ice cream and handed me one. I was struggling to breathe and barely managed to keep a hold on my cone.

“What’s the matter with you?” he asked gently. I could tell that he was looking at me. I kept my eyes down; I watched my ice cream melt, creating rivulets of chocolate down the cone. I felt the heat of the sun on my face, unpleasant. “Come on, I know you. What’s going on?”

Oh how much he didn’t know. Did he know the car I learned to drive in? Did he know the lake we used to swim in? Did he know the place I breathed for another? Did he know the sound of screeching metal? How it sounded so much like a human scream? Did he know the feeling of having no soul? Did he know the strength it took to come here?

“Oh it’s nothing. Just thinking,” I muttered, licking the cone.

“Okay, now slowly, slowly take your foot off the clutch. Good, goo- oof!”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” The transmission grinded and the car stalled, jerking us forward. “Oh Chris I can’t do this!” I banged my hands against the steering wheel, gazing out into the empty field before me.

The boy beside me chuckled good-naturedly and stretched his arms behind his neck. “Let’s take a break,” he said, hopping out of the car.

I followed his lead, scowling petulantly at the clunker that refused to work for me. Walking behind Chris, I found myself admiring the boy I had known since the moment I could speak.

Dressed in a plaid work shirt, and dirty, torn jeans, he looked every part the farm-boy he was. He turned to beckon me and smiled when he saw me looking at him. His none-too-perfect face brightened with his smile. His glasses didn’t take away from the self-assuredness I knew was there. I smiled back and jogged the few steps between us, grabbing his hand.

He was far from perfect, quite far from the dream-boy a young girl might imagine for herself. There was a smattering of muted acne under his jaw, and he was a little more than awkward around people in general. Frequently at a loss for words, his nerd-like appearance had cemented his reputation as unattractive. Only in this, our graduating year had people begun to notice the incredible man inside.

“Stop,” he said. I looked up at the sound of his voice. “What are you thinking right now?” he demanded.

I smiled. This was a little joke between us, as he claimed I thought too much and shared too little. “I was thinking how amazing you are, and how lucky I am to have had you all this time.” I felt myself beginning to blush. No matter how long he and I had been together there were still things that made me awkward.

“I am quite spectacular aren’t I?” He cocked an eyebrow, dropped my hand and took off for the edge of the pond along the edge of the field. I made a horrible sound meant to throw him off and pursued him, throwing off my clothes to the bathing suit underneath, unhindered by his own few articles of clothing.

I heard the sound of his feet hitting the wood of the dock and added an extra burst of speed. He roared as he cannonballed into the water, and I whooped as I followed him, diving in with as much grace as I could muster.

We both came up spluttering for air, inches from the other, and I smiled cheekily at him, before pecking him quickly on the lips and making for shore.

We had been together forever. I never thought about other boys, I never assumed there could be another for me, and somehow, I put absolute trust in the fact that Chris felt the same way about me. We were best friends, and he was a great big piece of my heart and soul

He grabbed my leg as he swum past me, pulling me back and successfully taking away my lead. I growled in annoyance, and struggled to beat him, even though he was now pulling himself on to the dock.

Eighteen years of hefting hay bales, rounding up cattle, driving tractors, trimming cattle horns and other chores had made him quite a solid boy. His biceps were deceptively large, and only a faint shadow betrayed what was a sold six-pack chest of ab muscles.

He pulled me close to him as I climbed onto the dock, and I felt my heart flutter, yet sigh with contentment as he cradled me against his chest, chin leaning on my head, feet dangling in the water, and rubbed small circled with his thumb on my arm.

Beside him I was the happiest thing in the world, and I never wanted the feeling to stop.

“Come on,” he said, standing up and shaking brusquely. He grinned mischievously at me. “Let’s try it once more.”

I groaned and grudgingly got to my feet, picking up my hurled clothing as I made my way back to the car.

xXxXxXx

“Christopher Matthew Robinson! If you don’t get in the water this instant, I am going to get out and leave you there!” I shouted up into the sky treading water.

Chris was clinging to the bare rock behind him as though for dear life. “I’m not doing it. I’m not, I’m not! I’m getting down.” He stuck his foot out, looking for a foothold to make his way back down to the ground.

“I’m not helping you. And I’m not going to if you don’t just jump right now! Don’t be such a sissy! It’s like… twenty-five feet, maybe!” I shouted up to him.

We were swimming in a lake not far from our houses. It required a day’s commitment and a canoe ride to reach this spot and now that he was here he wasn’t going to do it.

“No!” He cursed fluently in French and I glared at him although I knew he couldn’t see me.

“Don’t be such a wiener!” I yelped as something slid past my leg. Looking down I screeched as a diamond shaped head swan past me. “Snakey snakey snake snake!!” I swam for the shore as fast as I could.

I heard Chris’ deep laugh and a splash as he plummeted from the rock. He came back up laughing as well. “And you were calling me a wiener. It wasn’t even going to bite you!” He swam out of the water and I punched him in the arm.

“Freak-ball,” I muttered as he began to pack up our picnic, a huge grin still in place on his face.

xXxXxXx

We spent much time alone together, yet we also spent much time with each other’s families. We had grown up together and knew every part and intimate workings of the other’s family.

I came home for Thanksgiving the fall of my second year of university, and was surprised to hear a car pull up in our driveway. Our family wasn’t expected until the Saturday afternoon, excited and prepared to party the weekend away. I peeked out my window and saw Chris and his family pile out.

I rushed down the stairs. Twenty-one now I was no less excitable than I was at sixteen. Chris pushed open our door as though he owned the place and shouted to my parents in the kitchen.

I threw myself off the stairs and onto his neck with a girlish squeal. His arms closed tightly around me. I hadn’t expected to see him until Sunday evening or possibly even Monday.

“What are you doing here?” I asked as I let myself down.

He had changed from the geeky boy that stood beside me at prom in the immortal picture in my room. He still wore glasses out of habit but with much funkier frames. His dark hair was longer, curling on his neck his bangs falling into his eyes. His acne was gone, a faint memory of teen hormones, but he still dressed like a farm-boy, born and raised.

“Your parents invited us for supper,” he said smiling and kissing me on the cheek. I loved that even with such a small gesture he could set me on fire.

I twined my fingers with his as he pulled me into the kitchen after his parents and siblings.

After a comfortable dinner filled with raucous laughter and childlike pranks the adults were seated around the table, coffee and tea at their elbows and our younger siblings were away doing what younger siblings do.

A silence fell in the kitchen; a comfortable silence between friends and I sought out Chris’s hand under the table. It grasped mine tightly, shaking faintly.

“There’s something I want to ask you Lindsay,” he said, pushing himself back from the table. He lowered himself on one knee and said very softly, “I would like to know if you would marry me.”

My jaw dropped and I floated back to the time when we were five years old and he had sat on me on the ground, holding a worm to my mouth until I had reluctantly agreed to marry him.

I could only think of one thing to say. “Are you serious?”

Chris blinked dumbly at me. “Of course he’s serious you fool!” My father’s voice reminded me that there were people in the room. Not just ordinary people but our parents, and now it seemed out brothers and sisters.

“Yes I’m serious,” he said, staring unbelievingly at me.

“Well I just wanted to be sure, because there was that time with the worm and you never really followed through.”

He blinked and then grinned widely as he pulled me to stand with him and kissed me deeply, our families hollering in true country fashion. “I’ll follow through this time,” he whispered.

“Then yes,” I said, wrapping my hand around his neck and pulling him down for another kiss.

xXxXxXx

“One vanilla and one chocolate.” Chris’ voice floated to me over the sounds of the other people in the ice cream parlour and I smiled twisting the bright ring on my finger.

I was engaged. I was engaged to a beautiful man, inside and out who loved me more than life itself and I was happier than I had ever been.

“How long have we been dating?” he asked as he handed me my cone, licking the chocolate dripping down his own.

“Since the cradle?” I joked. “Nah, about… eight years? Yeah about eight, officially.” I smiled and scooped my cone with a plastic spoon.

“Eight long and very tiring years,” he groaned overdramatically.

I kicked him under the table. “I brought you something.” It was his birthday. “Here.” I slid a wrapped package over the table to him and watched him eye it suspiciously. “Open it goof-ball!”

“Is it going to eat me?” I had once tried to trick him into opening a box of snakes when we were twelve.

I laughed. “No, you’ll like it.”

He cautiously peeled off the paper and gasped in surprise when he saw what was beneath. “You didn’t?” he gaped.

“Oh I did.” I smugly continued to eat my vanilla ice cream.

His eyes widened as I pushed six more packages towards him. “Every one?” he asked, voice weak, eyes wide with excitement.

“Every one,” I answered. I thought I saw a tear roll down his face and laughed at him. He had been aching for this series of books since he had been eight years old and it had only taken me that many years to save the money to buy the first published edition of each one.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I really do. This just made my love for you quadruple.” He winked. “Maybe even… hex-druple?”

I laughed at his antics and pointed to his cone. “Be careful or you’ll drip.” He screeched and held the cone far away, chocolate rivers of melting sugar inching their way to cover his hand as he crouched protectively over them.

xXxXxXx

Third year of university, spring break, found me back at home relishing in the seeming timelessness of my old town. It was just beginning to get dark, and it was the last night of my break, I was headed home, back to the open fields, with milk for my mother which she ‘desperately’ needed.

I was turning the corner towards the ice-cream parlour when I heard the sound of squealing breaks and the sound of tearing metal. Ahead of me I saw headlights racing away in the other direction, and the twisted form of a car in the ditch.

I threw my car into park, and flicked on the four-ways then rushed to the ditch. My heart stopped for a moment in my chest as I recognized the black car, twisted sideways around a telephone pole, and I forced my stumbling feet to move faster.

I heard a screen door open and slam shut and then a voice yelling for nine-one-one, but all I could see was the shape inside the car, and all I could do was pray to whatever gods there are that it was not Chris.; that it was his brother, sister, father mother, anyone but him.

One, two, three, four, five. Pause, check for breath, plug nose, breath into mouth. One, two, three, four, five…

I heard the first sirens and was blinded by the flashing lights but none of it registered in my mind as I frantically clung to Chris’s body. I begged God, Buddha, the Dalai Lama, Ghandi, Martin Luther King Jr., my mother, his father, the paramedic, Pierre Trudeau, JFK, Abraham Lincoln, Muhammad Ali, Nelson Mandela; I begged everyone and everything to let me keep him with me. I begged to have him breathe; I begged that it be anyone else, even myself. But no one heard me.

What cruel twist of fate was it that brought me here, to the side of my bloodied soul?

I died. Right there, beside him on the blood-stained gravel on the shoulder of a small-town road, my soul fled the earth, bound with his. I cried myself dry; I cried until I vomited, and then cried more.

Inconsolable is what I was, tranquilizers were what I was given – after I started to tear at myself with my fingers, trying to get the blood off of me.

I finished school. I stayed away from home. I got a job, began my career yet nothing filled the hole inside my chest. I was hollow.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

I closed my eyes, trying to picture this place before the change. It seemed as though his death had opened the door for normalcy and ‘progress’ had stepped right in. My heart bled for the old.

We drove slowly out of the parking lot. “Oh, look at that. I wonder what happened there?” He pointed to the pile of flowers beside the road, a stack of books, the cross.

I sagged against the window, heaving for breath. Oh how much he didn’t know.