Blue Sky, Brown Paper

The two of us sat on the cold plastic of the swing set in complete silence. The sun had been on it’s long, lackadaisical journey towards the horizon for the last hour. A soft breeze rippled through my hair, a streak of dark brown flashing across my vision as my fringe was swept over my eyes. I brought up my arm in a slow, considered movement, and brushed it aside as I broke the tense silence.

“I guess we need to go home soon.”

I’m not surprised by the lack of reply. My brother Eric had always been the quiet type. I had always got the impression that he was afraid to speak, as if every word would draw the ire and attention of the entire world crashing down on his shoulders. I knew how he felt. Even now, I could feel his eyes drilling into the side of my head. A familiar flush spread across my cheeks as I drew a ragged breath through my lips, lowering my hand from my fringe to cup my mouth as I coughed. It took me a few seconds to get myself under control before I spoke again.

“You used to pat me on the back when I coughed. I’m not made of glass, you know. You can still try to make me feel better,” I chuckled dryly, gulping as much of my spit as I could to soothe the cracked sensation of my gullet. The skin on my arms crawled as a cold breeze blew over me, and I tucked my hands under my armpits. I breathed in as deeply as I could muster, drawing the frigid air into the gaping, wet sacks of my lungs. I held it for a moment, before letting it out. It pierced the air like a non-verbal full stop. I let the cloud of my hot breath drift into the air as I held on to the icy iron of the swing, using my legs to propel me forward, to follow that cloud into the sky.

My momentum carried me past the swing where Eric sat. I caught a glimpse of him through the corner of my eye, and quickly turned my head. I wasn’t ready to face him yet, to look him in the eyes and accept the last words he’d said. I lifted my face up instead, my legs moving with all my might. Swinging them backwards until they were curled around the hard plastic of the seat, I leaned my entire body back with me. My knees burned as I pulled them tighter, my body gaining tension like a tightly coiled spring, as the backwards momentum stopped.

Redirecting my body, I let myself pass through the arc with eyes screwed tightly closed. My legs flicked out, long and lean, in perfectly practised timing. I opened my eyes as I shifted into the apex of the arc, throwing my head back to look up into the endless sky. That beautiful tapestry of azure flecked with the ghosts of white clouds, the perfect allure of the soft white orb of the distant moon -

The distant moon that was rapidly, violently disappearing from my line of sight. The cruel trick of the brilliant sky gave way to a bleak and endless navy before my eyes crossed the watery last defence of the magenta sunset, the grey of the gravel rising up from the floor. My legs were in the wrong place, not tucked tightly enough. The scraping of the cold, grey gravel hurt my ears as I felt my body twist and pull, my hands slipping from the iron chain of the swing as I slammed hard on my hands and knees. Tears welled up in my eyes as I waited for Eric to comfort me.

A long second passed before I turned, brushing my long fringe from my face as my eyes screwed shut, tears still leaking from the corners despite my desperation to stop them. I couldn’t stop myself.

“You don’t care, do you?! You just don’t care no matter what happens to me, do you? You’re not even helping me now! You’re the worst brother ever, Eric!”

There was a creaking sound, then the swing softly hit me on the back as the leftover momentum carried it through. I sighed, then took another deep ragged gasp for air. I couldn’t hold it off any longer. Finally, I opened my eyes, and forced myself to look at the swing next to me.

The brown box was light, lighter than it had looked, lighter than I would have ever thought it could have been. I hadn’t been able to bring myself to break the crinkled, tan paper except for on the top right corner. I had wanted to make sure it was packed up tightly, wrapped in something more secure than just brown paper. He deserved so much more than just brown paper. I felt a shiver through my body before another bout of coughing took me. The tears ran down my eyes in open, shameless streams as I wretched, my throat torn to shreds as I moved my mouth and let the drops of blood hit the gravel in front of me.

It took a few minutes for me to get the coughing under control again, sitting on the gravel as I drew in ragged, shallow breaths of the cold and sweet air. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, then balled up the sleeve of my jumper into my little fist before using it to wipe my nose and my mouth. I was glad my school uniform was red. I pushed myself up, standing shakily on my feet as I walked to the swing and picked up the parcel. I hugged it tight to my chest, trying to stop the fluttering of my heart, the pounding in my chest.

“Hey, Luke.”

I didn’t turn at the sound of his voice. The sharp edges of the grey gravel seemed blurry until I blinked, tears coming loose and hurtling to the ground. Big arms wrapped around my back and I felt myself leaning backwards, my eyes still fixed on the ground. The warmth of his breath on my neck made me simultaneously shiver and curl up slightly smaller, retreating into safety as I felt his hands brush mine. He took hold of the brown package with me, holding just above the soft white cord that held the tan paper onto the box.

“I miss him, Eric,” I said softly. I felt my brother squeeze me closer, his mouth opening to say something, then shutting with a soft smack. I decided to speak for him. “I just can’t believe this is all that’s left of him. Dad was so… big. Like he was a wrestler or, or a superhero. I can’t believe they got him into such a little jar.”

I clutched the package tighter to my chest, feeling Eric’s breath rustle my hair like I was made of brown paper too. When he spoke, he sounded like I did when I was having a coughing fit. It made me think he had it as well. It was like Dad’s voice in the hospital when the machines had kept him awake. It made me flinch, my breath catching in my throat as my skin crawled and I felt the urge to cough again.

Eric let go of the box, turning me by my shoulders to face him, and took a step back. He held up his hands so that I could see them. I reached out my left hand, but the right still had the box in it. Eric took my left hand, held it tightly. I looked into his eyes, spots of river blue against the backdrop of the azure sky. I couldn’t do it without both hands. I couldn’t stop the burning in my lungs, the coughing that was about to wrack my body, unless I -

My body felt empty as I slowly bent down, and put the brown paper box on the floor. I held on to both of Eric’s hands for dear life, copied his breathing, felt myself shake and shiver. Eric breathed in. I breathed in. He held his breath. I did too. My chest swelled until my head hurt. I screwed my eyes shut tightly, pressure building..

And then, I let it all go.

The hospital. Dad, holding my hand as the doctors tried to explain what it meant for us. Eric shuffling out of the room. The sound of sobbing, the antiseptic smell, the eyes of the priest as Dad’s coffin slipped slowly behind the curtain. I breathed out, and I let it all go. I opened my eyes. Eric was smiling. Pursed lips, water gathering in his eyes, arms outstretched. I ran the two steps to him, and threw my arms around his waist, and we let out all of the tears we had left together, over the brown parcel with the crinkled, tan paper.