A/N: I know my story needs a lot of work so I would appreciate constructive criticism!! And I will hopefully polish it up and post a better version in the future. but other than that i hope you enjoy the story in its raw, possible pathetic, form!
He shakes his head. His expression changes to resemble what a teacher does when they have something important to say. "Have you ever felt obligated to do something? Something very important, but at the same time…" He's looking up at the sky.
"What are you saying?" I've never heard him speak in riddles like this.
"I just… life isn't fair sometimes."
"Edie turns twelve tomorrow." I remain silent. "He doesn't know what love is. I'm lucky, I know. How will he ever know?"
"What can you do? You don't know. He could find love he's no different than you."
"Yes he is. He has no confidence. He is like a rug. He'll take anything and no matter what I say to cheer him up, he waves it off."
"What are you going to do?" Ollie shrugs. That's when it dawns on me. "I'm going with you." I've got this figured out.
He looks up at me as if he's confused. "Going with me?"
"I know what you're going to do; what you have to do. And I also know you can't tell me, but I know. I'll run away with you."
"You're thinking of leaving me here? Always worrying what will happen to you, and if you get caught..." I'm starting to blubber and I shake my head angrily. "I'll get caught with you." I say firmly.
"You don't want to be associated with that."
I'm fuming. "I will go to jail with you. I'd rather be there with you than here without you." I think I'm losing my mind.
"NO!" Ollie screeches. He's balling his hands into fists and closing his eyes. He is trying to control himself.
"I'm sorry." I touch his hand, which immediately softens.
"This is all over my head." He sits up and puts his face in his hands; he can't stand for me to see his tears. The moon is shining right on us; we probably look like oompa loompas. The wheat around us is orange too; it's as if we're in a spotlight.
I remember the day when I met Ollie's brother, Edie. He is a really depressing boy. It was like meeting a living ghost; or someone who was half here, half gone in a sense.
"Edie, this is Genesis." Ollie held his brother's shoulder. He was ten years old at the time. "Genie, this is my brother, Edie." I put my hand on his arm. He looked up at me startled. It's probably the gentle gesture that frightened him. Ollie made us some grilled cheeseburgers. I watched Edie like a curious toddler would. He eats very slowly and is meticulous about keeping his area clean. He was constantly using his napkin to clean drips and globs.
"He's a prisoner." Ollie told me when Edie was on the couch reading a comic book.
"And you're not?" I was digging into another cheeseburger. I added some more pickles. I like to eat.
"Dad didn't start the hitting till I was a little older. Edie's always known it. I'm not sure what triggered my dad." Ollie sighed. "Maybe, I'll never know. All I know is that I'll break Edie out of his jail if it's the last thing I do."
It's so quiet. I'm trying to fall asleep, but there's so much on my mind. I've been reliving so many memories of Ollie and I, and I'm not sure why. I'm not a regular on memory lane. I pull myself closer to him and breathe in the smell of spaghetti sauce, pond water, and Burberry cologne.
"Don't leave me." I whisper. He kisses my forehead. I shut my eyes and the moon leaves its imprint in the back of my eyelids.
I love waking up in a warm embrace. My mom is going to murder me. I shudder. I don't want to think about murder right now. I pat the warm lump next to me.
I pat it harder.
Now I'm punching the living daylights out of it.
"OLLIE, OLLIE, OLLIE, OLLIE!" Punch, punch, punch!
I stand and the sun is so bright over the wheat; they certainly are the amber waves of grain. I hold my heart. Amber. The sun is making me blind even more because it's reflecting off my tears. The dust attacks my nose as I sniff the snot back up. As a writer I should know misery is my friend. Not every story gets its happy ending; or rather, every life has multiple stories. I always thought there were just chapters to make up the story; but now I know they're just a bunch of stories making up the mega-story. I know this because, Ollie was not a chapter. That's a weak pathetic word and I shudder at its horribleness. He is a story. He's a great American novel, a classic. I'm lucky, he was the only good thing that library had.
Is there really beauty in letting go? I lift up his blanket and I see something float to the ground.
It's a Polaroid of us. I'm fast asleep and Ollie is kissing my cheek. Well, I did ask him to keep me in the picture. A sob rips through me and I drop the picture in the dirt. Through the wall of tears I see some scribbles on the back. A poem.
"My eyes are like the harvest moon; they'll come and get you soon. And when you're feeling lost and alone, they'll come to guide you home. They shine only as good, as your love to them would, your warm embrace is what completed the face more than anything else could. My eyes are like the harvest moon; they'll come and get you soon."
I just hope he comes to get me before I go and find him.