Chapter 10

"Tell me again why you decided to bring me out to fish?" I asked Grandpa Rick while he unloaded his fishing gear from the back of his pickup truck. I wrapped my coat tighter around my body since the spring breeze was still sharp and chilly.

Since Grandpa Rick didn't want any help with unloading the gear, I took my time to take in my surroundings of the forest where Grandpa Rick mentioned had peaceful streams to fish carps. Most of the snow had already melted, revealing the bare twigs and branches of the flora that lived here. I always have had a fascination seeing plants in early spring. Most of them looked dead, but there was always life within.

"Come on now," Grandpa Rick said, handing me the empty ice box while he carried the baits and rods.

It was quite a walk on the way to the fishing spot. Just like our car ride on the way here, Grandpa Rick was incredibly silent as we hiked along a narrow path, passing trees and shrubs that occasionally caught on my leggings. I must admit that this was entirely different from the times that my dad took me fishing because he only brought me to open fishing spots on parks, never on forests like this. This time, it's a refreshing new experience.

I heavily relied on Grandpa Rick on the way. Once we got there, I realised that I haven't been paying attention on the path we took. The last thing I remembered was avoiding what seemed to be early sprouts of stinging nettles and almost tripping as we went down a hill.

We both set our stuff on a tree stump and began setting our fishing gears in silence. The silence was almost unbearably thick that not even a knife could cut it. Ever since Grandpa Rick caught me, he mentioned nothing about it. All he did was drag me out into the forest to fish. The unknown made me more anxious than the upcoming confrontation itself.

Once we threw our lines into the water, Grandpa Rick finally spoke, "How long?"

"What?"

"How long has that," Grandpa Rick jerked his head in direction to my side, "been going on?"

I tightened my grip on my fishing rod. "A few weeks after I got here," I said. "I've been... not feeling well back in America."

"Is that why you really came home?" he asked. "You've been feeling this way?"

I nodded, trying to keep a straight face to hide my shame. "I needed to feel grounded. I was always up in my head. I'm not saying it was the right thing to do. I just... I just," I trailed off and took a deep breath. "I no longer trusted myself to live alone."

"I understand."

"Do you?" I narrowed my eyes at him accusingly. There were always people who think they understood each others' pain. You were lucky if they really did. Some people just to it to feel like a better person, to feel like a hero.

Grandpa Rick raised his brow at me. He stuck his fishing rod upright on the ground before facing me. He unbuttoned his left sleeve and pulled it back. There was nothing more surprising than to see thin scars decorated on his aged skin.

I took a good few seconds to take it all in. Grandpa Rick, who was one of the most level-headed and sane person I know, had scars? I've underestimated Grandpa Rick's silence all this time. Apparently, there is more to this grumpy old man than his silence, snarky remarks, and desire to be left alone in his workshop at times.

"And I thought I had enough scars from the war," Grandpa Rick chuckled coldly, pulling down his sleeve. "I took home several scars all over my body. Here," he gestured to his torso, "and here." He pointed to his temple.

I could only look at him speechless. I didn't want to know expression was plastered on my face right now. I hoped it wasn't pity or anything that would offend Grandpa Rick right now.

"My mates," Grandpa Rick picked up his rod, and I noticed his hands were on a tight grip on the handle and slightly shaking. "They were good lads, the lot of them. Many of them were younger than I was, but sometimes, I feel better that they never had to live through this nightmare. If I never met Vivian, I'd probably end up like the rest of the men that went home with me."

I gulped but still managed to ask, "What happened to them?"

Grandpa Rick turned to me and smiled wryly. "Some came home with their bodies, but their spirit left behind. A few of my mates chose to gain back what they lost like I did, and well, some also decided to let go of what's left of them."

"Okay, okay, I get it," I said, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment to deal with the disturbance I felt in my gut. "You've made me feel bad. Now, what's the point?"

"You haven't asked me the important question yet," Grandpa Rick said. "I'll be completely honest with you as you've noticed how I answered your first question." He began whistling a peaceful tone that I didn't recognize while I pondered on the question.

"Haven't you got it yet?" Grandpa Rick raised his brow at me. Then was a tug on his fishing rod to which he gave it a pull followed by reeling in his line. Out the water came a medium-sized carp. "Well, that's enough to feed one. A little more to go."

I stuck my own fishing rod in the ground and rushed to get the ice box. I filled it with water from the pond and carried the now heavy container over to Grandpa Rick, who was checking if the fix looked healthy enough even though it was still flapping around and putting up a losing fight. Once satisfied, Grandpa Rick tossed the fish in the ice box and began fixing up another bait on his hook.

"Does it ever go away?" I suddenly asked.

Grandpa Rick's face showed that I did get the question right. He paused for a moment and resumed on fixing his bait. "Do you feel like it will?" he replied.

I wanted to say yes. I really did. I wished that was reality, but deep down in my gut, I knew I would be lying and would only bring myself more pain in believing that fantasy. "No," I answered. "I wish it would though." I still didn't keep my childish wish from him.

"You're not the only one who wishes that," Grandpa Rick said. "I wish that. My buddies wished that. I wished that for the friends I've lost. So live with it."

Those words were harsh, but it was the cold hard slap of truth. It was just what I needed. There was no going back to the way I was. There was just facing the beast, battling over this horrible monster that was also a part of me, and moving forward to be a better person. As inspiring as that sounded, it was not sweet. I was also well aware that that road will be a difficult bitter one.

"I want to get better," I declared. I faced Grandpa Rick and looked at him straight in the eye. "I want you to help me get better. If you moved on what you faced in the war, I can surely move on this mere childish drama I have right now."

"No." Grandpa Rick turned away and cast his line back to the water. There was that unbearable silence again. One word was all it took for the atmosphere to be cold and tense.

"W-what?" I stammered, flabbergasted. "Why did you bring me here then? Wasn't this the point? You and your war stories?" I started to get agitated with him. I bared myself open to him, and when I finally decided that I wanted to be a better person, he totally shut me out.

Grandpa Rick sighed, slightly irritated as well, and stuck his fishing rod back on the ground. He faced me with a disappointed look, and frankly, it was more painful to look at that my parents' disappointed looks combined because Grandpa Rick was someone who actually cared. He placed a heavy hand on my shoulder and focused on me silently.

"You need help. No question about it," Grandpa Rick said after a while, "but what upset me was that daft thing you said at the end. That going through the war was worse than what you're going through now. It's all crap."

"Pardon?"

"Depression. Anxiety disorder. PTSD. Schizophrenia. Bipolar disorder. There is no superior mental illness category," Grandpa Rick said. "Whatever you've got, it causes pain to the best of people. As different they may be, nobody wanted to suffer from this. Don't ever say someone is more sick than you or the other way around. You understand?"

I swallowed back my heart that got lodged in my throat and nodded.

"I did that to one of my friends from high school," Grandpa Rick said, his tone flat. "Shortly after the war, a few of my mates went out to the pub to get a drink. This one guy, William, had panic attacks whenever it got too crowded. I remembered being so drunk off my arse, yelling at him being constantly nauseous and having dizzy spells, and comparing him to me. He'd never been to the war. He decided to open up a clinic for kids here in this town. The terrors he had were fantasy compared to what I've actually seen." He turned to me smiling bitterly. "You know what happened? I just turned out to be the town's biggest arsehole back then. I probably still am."

"You're not an asshole," I said, placing a hand on his arm. Arse. Ass. Is it me or does my tongue feel tense?

"You didn't know me back then," Grandpa Rick paused, then laughed heartily. Actual full-on laughter. "You actually said the same thing William did after I gave him a shiner. Then we became best friends." His laughter died down, and his aura turned glum. "He passed away two years ago, you know. He was a great guy."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. At my age, death isn't really surprising at all. It just... happens. It's a part of life," Grandpa Rick said. He laid a firm hand on my shoulder. "That control you feel from doing that? Don't trust it. It's a lie. It's a drug."

Tears welled up in my eyes. "I... I can't stop," I whispered, trying to keep in the tears. "It's the only thing that keeps me sane. It's the thing keeping me awake from the nightmares."

"You can stop, and you will," Grandpa Rick said. "The thing about mental illness is that you need an ally. Your mind is somewhat compromised, so you need someone to help you. You can never work alone. Vivian and I will always be here for you." He said it with such certainty, such promise that I just cried my heart out.

Grandpa Rick stepped forward and pulled me in for a hug. He stroked my head comfortingly without saying anything. And when I finally cried out my last tear, he kissed the top of my head, saying, "You're going to be alright. I promise."

And I believed him.


Alrighty then. This chapter took so long to write, and the next update will probably take longer because I'll be going back to school next week. For some reason, school is starting earlier this year. (Yep, I'm definitely pissed about that.) Any thoughts on this development? I promise the next chapter won't be as angsty and gloomy as this one. Maybe we can even learn more about a set of twins. *ahem* Foreshadowing *ahem*

So yeah. I'm just going to spend the remainder of my summer binge-watching tv series — I've already finished Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok Joo and Riverdale — therefore this is my last update for this month. Unless, I change my mind and do a quick short update right before next Saturday.

Any thoughts on Grandpa Rick, on Anna, on where you think this story is going? Please leave a review and follow. Feedback is greatly appreciated. Love 'ya!