Splinter

I want something to speak for me. Something with grand tales to tell. That's all I'll ever want out of life. But that's not as straightforward as it seems, because it's like building your own pedestal; I'm not sure I have the right to, or if I would still be comfortable up there after the spectators leave.

I'm never happy with the result.


I guess that means I'll build forever, that my life will be an endless revision, but somehow knowing I'll always have a path to follow soothes my aching feet. Even if my brain's rattled, my hands are calloused and my shoulders are hunched. The only thing I really mind are the splinters. Damned things hover just below the skin, somehow whispering that the divide between where I am and where I want to be is really only that thin.

Slivers of skin keep me running and I can't break through. I hate it, but somehow I keep savouring the sting. 

"What are you doing, Helmer?"

My friends are on rotation to see how I am. Their voices have all but blurred together now.

"Trying." I answer with my eyes to the floor.

"What for?"

"Absolution."

"Could I help you?"

"You can't help someone try, you can only make them want to. I already do." I answer, captivated by the fear in my friend's eyes when he catches mine.

"Then why isn't it working?" he inches nearer, hands up in surrender although I haven't moved.

"I don't think it should." I scoff at his apprehensive features when he shuffles into the light. I'm no carnivore, I'm not even insane; I'm just really, really focussed.

"...you don't?" I remember a time in which we could finish each other's sentences. Now he can't even seem to start them.

"Then what would I do?" I ask. I meet his eyes full on, display that they're still full of life and passion. He swallows and shifts under my gaze.

"What would I do?" there's the challenge. I want him to put his hands down and face me. See me. I want to be seen damn it.

"I don't know!" he offers heatedly. It bounces off of every wall and escapes up the stairs. His hands are down and fisted now, swinging at his sides in time with ragged pants.
There you go, buddy. That's it; stop fearing me, stop fearing for me. I just want to have something.

"I just want to have something." 

"You have friends." I almost laugh. I'm sure there's mirth in my eyes, 'cause it seems like I've pissed him off again. Good.

"I can't be held responsible for who they are. They are not my legacy. Not even if you become a fabulous nurse after all this relentless caring."

"You can. You have more influence than you think, Helmer." he's speaking loudly, somewhat irate. I guess he feels like butting heads again. Oh well, I'll have another go.

"I don't want influence, Gerald, I want control. I want to see something beautiful and know that it's mine." Gerald rolls his eyes, his patience dwindling. Perhaps he'll finally leave.

"Get kids." comes the snippy reply from between his lips. I could get kids, but in order to get kids I'd have to conjure up some false love for a woman with genetic potential. That's just a dick move, really.

"That's cruel. Besides, ugly kids do exist."

"For fuck's sake, Helmer! You're obsessed!"

"So what if I am obsessed! At least I'll have something to do! I don't want to be like you any more, Gerald! I'm sick of being useless! I want worth and I damn well know I'm not worth anything! I'm trying to build myself up here, can't you see that? You should know! Why else would you be down here?" I am obsessed! Just leave me to it and I might emerge when I am something.

"Because I care about you!"

Fear contests heavily with residual anger in Gerald's eyes until he grabs the collar of my shirt and pushes me against the wall. "You're not doing well, Helmer."

No shit.

"Piss off, Gerald. The only thing that makes your life any different than mine is the fact you still think influence cuts it. You still think this works. It does not."

"Why not, huh? Why can't I care about you, why can't that change something? Because you don't care? I know you don't, that's not a condition. And I'm aware my life sucks, Helmer, but you know what? I have one. How are you going to live forever when you haven't even done it once?"

The defiance in me searches for an answer, bucks against Gerald's gentle restraints, but I don't know what to say any more.

"I don't know..." the whisper seeps into his shirt, somewhere close enough to his heart to make him laugh.

"I kinda got that idea, Helmer. You wouldn't know if you had the most beautiful voice in the world, if you were Rembrandt, or if you built a freaking grand piano from scratch and carved a picture of yourself into it. Not for all the calloused hands and splinters in the world... but I can show you?"

"Yeah. Yeah, show me."

He takes me outside. But it's more than that; the sun's shining and the grass is green and toddlers with sunglasses hop along the side walk. I didn't know the sun was shining... I didn't even know what time it was!

I lean against my house and marvel at the world. No wonder they all feared for me.

At some point I must have closed my eyes because a searing pain startles me and there's Gerald with a paper-clip and a pair of tweezers.

"Got it." he says. He drops the splinter like it's nothing.

I guess it is.

The End