In Memory (9 page)

May turned her big blue eyes to me. “Do you have a friend, big brother? What is his name?”

“This is Aerie.”

“Aerian Guildenstern, at you service, milady.” I bowed to her
midstep
, making her smile brightly.

“I like him, he has a kind heart. He’s a good friend, brother.”

These siblings do not talk like normal people.

“What’s your friend’s name?” I asked, indicating her stuffed cat.

“This is Car-
michael
. He is an angel of the lord. He’s just taking a vacation right now. So I’m taking care of him until he’s well-rested.”

L
ooked from her to Noah, who didn’t look at all surprised or confused by this
statement.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll do a fine job. You look very capable.”

“I am capable. I can even make pasta myself.”

I laughed a little at this, she’s just so cute.

We walked a few blocks, with May occasionally telling us about her day, like how Awful Susan in her class broke all the yellow crayons, and how this was a great injustice to the colour.

“Yellow is a colour that should be respected.” She finished with one hand on her hip and the other pointing at me.
“Because it’s a mystical experience shared by everybody.”

“Uh, um, I hold it in the highest regard.”

“As you should.”

Noah turned abruptly,
oh,
we’re at their house.

It loomed up before
us, all towering trees and iron gates
.
A place that brings to mind words like estate and manor.

“Thank you for walking with us.” Noah said, bowing a little.

“Yes, thank you.” May echoed, bowing the same as him.

“Yeah, you’re welcome. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

Noah nodded, beginning his trek up the driveway, holding May’s hand again.

She let go of his hand when they had been walking a little while, running back to me.

“Aerian Guildenstern!” She ran up to my side, holding Carmichael close to herself. “Even if brother does not come to school tomorrow, would you walk me home from school?”

I smiled, “Sure!”

“Thank you!” She grinned toothily at me, and then ran to catch up with Noah.

Work today was mostly uneventful
,
I mostly
chopped carrots
. I don’t want to see carrots for
a least
a week now
. Blah. Oh well.

As an afterthought, I think May might have foreshadowed something by asking me to walk her home.

150 Days, 30 September, Tuesday

Interestingly enough, as I expected, Noah was not at school today. This was troubling for me in three ways:

1.
              
He wasn’t there to explain Shakespeare to me

2.
              
I had twice as much lunch and no one to share it with

3.
              
When he’s not at school, he always returns with more injuries

W
alked to the Elementary School after English, a little bit annoyed at all the study questions I was required to finish for tomorrow.

May met me on the stairs, looking intently at me with a weird appraising expression. I smiled, and held my hand out for her to take.

“Let’s go to the park, Aerian Guildenstern.” It almost sounded more like an order than a request.

“Sure!” I didn’t mind
,
I don’t have work until tomorrow. “And you can call me by my first name, you know.”

“Just Aerian? But that’s not your full name, what if there was confusion with who I was speaking to?”

“Um, fair point, but I’m pretty sure it’s an unusual name, so you should be safe.”

“I concur. I’ll call you Aerian then.”

The park wasn’t far from the
school,
we were there within a few minutes. She went directly to the swings, and sat down primly.

“Where’s Carmichael today?” I asked, sitting on the swing beside her.

“He’s using something different for a vessel today. I left his vessel at home.” She turned to me, “Now, tell me. What are you trying to accomplish by befriending my big brother?”

“That’s kind of a confusing question. I just saw he was alone, so I thought he could use some company.”

“No one in this town will go near him. He’s cursed. Everyone knows it.”

Was thrown by her seriousness,
smiled nervously before replying, “Well, I think I can deal with it! We’ll be good friends! Forever!” I smiled, hoping it was reassuring.

She looked down, then looked back at me with a sad gleam in her eyes. “But… you only have 150 days left, right?”

And then she started to cry.

W
as stunned; it took me a few seconds to regain myself before I tried to comfort her.

“Hey, I’m not sure about- Wait, I haven’t told anyone
but Ceilidh and Terra
about that. How do you know about it? And my mother is dead, how do you know?” I stood in front of her swing, holding the chains, “Are you-? Can you see-?”

She nodded, “I could see it when I touched your hand…” She took a deep breath, “He’s the reason. If you’re friends with him, you’re going to die on the 27
th
of February. His curse is going to kill you.”

G
uess it’s a definite thing now. I’m going to die on that day.

September

/end.

149 days, 1 October, Wednesday

D
on’t feel motivated to write today. Besides, there’s nothing terribly interesting to report anyway. It seems
the only time I have anything worth writing about
,
it’s about Noah
.

G
uess I should be mulling over the fact that he’s cursed, his sister is psychic, and I’m going to die in 149 days.
Meh
. I just don’t feel like thinking about it.

148 Days, 2 October, Thursday

It snowed a little today. I was pretty happy to see it. I like snow. Everything that’s unpleasant can be covered up by snow. Trash heaps and ugly vehicles, and… buildings and things…

T
hink I might be catching a cold too. My throat is all
acghh
.

147 Days, 3 October, Friday

S
tayed home today, mostly because it was raining when I woke up, and I still feel kind of sick. This equals tea with honey.
Lots of tea.
Lots of fluids are good for getting rid of a cold.

It rains really hard in this city.
Like crazy pounding-against-the-window-like-a-crazed-monster rain.
The whole house shakes, and I am glad for the fireplace and my huge pile of blankets.
To be precise, three quilts and a throw.

F
igured my day would be best spent beside the fireplace, listening to the radio and reading. Although lately it seems I can’t write anything that’s particularly profound or interesting even. You know, like the cool existentialist stuff or the theories of writing etcetera
etcetera
.

Today was my Dad’s birthday, so I’m guessing Terra’s going out with a few old friends
tonight.
They still like to celebrate for him, even if he’s not around anymore. I think that’s sweet. Maybe next year I can-

Never mind. I’ll be dead. The thought of that makes me
more sad
now than I ever have been about it. I’m picturing Terra, all alone, sitting in the pub with her friends, knowing that I’m not going to be at home waiting for her with a bracing cup of tea. That breaks my heart to think about.

D
on’t want to
die and leave her all alone. C
an’t do that to her. There must be some way… I have to live for her. If I die, there won’t be anyone left for her.

She’s going to cry, she might lock herself in her room for days and days
like she did when Dad died. R
emember knocking on her door for a long time, then finally sitting down outside it, because that’s as close as I could get to being next to her. When she finally opened the door, I had fallen asleep beside her door, and she carried me to my own bed. When we were there she just held me for a few minutes and cried.

Who’s going to wait outside her door when I’m dead?

146 Days, 4 October, Saturday

G
uess I just have a mild head cold.
H
eadache and sore throat.
Also
feel like someone dropped ten thousand rocks on me when I was sleeping.
Argh
. My back is
all sore
so now all I can do is lay here on the couch and watch the fire.

Terra came home late last night, and deman
ded I go up to bed to sleep. G
uess I fell asleep on the couch. It almost seemed lik
e that
night
all over again. W
anted to tell her again, that I’m going to die in 146 days. She would believe me
if I told her
, I know she would.
But she doesn’t want to believe that chart. She really is of the mindset that if you ignore something, it’ll go away.

I figure she’s going to read this journal one day, so I guess I can write it out here.

Terra, I’m so sorry. I want
ed
to tell you so much, but I want to live the last days of my life happily with you. So I can’t let you know that we have a
n exact
timeline, which
eventually comes to an end. I love you so much. I’m so sorry.

T
hink I’ll leave a note for her on the 27
th
of February, a letter for her to keep. I can’t think of what I’ll write down. Let’s assume an inspiration will come to me that day and I’ll find the perfect words to say to her before I have to go. There’ll be lots of snow that day, there always is. Hopefully, that will help her. She loves the snow.

H
ope the fact that I’m going to die on a snowy day doesn’t make her hate it. Please let it comfort her…

145 Days, 5 October, Sunday

Okay, so I’ve decided to deal with this whole i
ssue as positively as I can. T
hink I will construct some sort of bucket list.
Pretty sure
that’s the term anyway. Right. I’ll have to think of a list of things I want to accomplish before kicking said proverbial water container.

1.
               
Make Noah smile for real.

2.
               
Begin a collection of something.

3.
               
Make snow angels on New Years Eve.

4.
               
Sew a
marvellous
dress for Terra for Christmas.

5.
               
Dance in the rain.

6.
               
Paint a picture. (
prolly
abstract, I’m rubbish at art)

7.
               
Learn to knit.

8.
               
Buy a lava lamp.

9.
               
Write something really interesting and profound, that people will remember.

10.
            
Fall in love, even for a few seconds.

That’s a good start. M
ight add some on later, or as I think of them. Anyway, I have a headache now, so I’m going to sleep and hope that it’s gone in time for school tomorrow.

144 Days, 6 October, Monday

S
kipped class again today in an effort to dispel this horrible headache.
It sort of sucks, because I was co
unting on seeing Noah today.
F
igured if I needed help catching up from the days I missed last week, today would have been a good day, because I don’t have work…

Oh well. W
ish I knew his phone number so I could just call him and ask if he wanted to hang out. That would simplify matters significantly.

H
ad some crazy freaky dreams last night too. You know, the ones where you can only remember glimpses of things that happened, and you just have to keep replaying them in your mind, to make sure that you actually witnessed it. Even though it’s all just a dream anyway…