Head over heavy heart

Two weeks after his mum was killed, 17-year-old Christopher Bartlett almost drowned. Not in water but in a pool of dark, stinking sadness. What was it about funerals that scared people so much? His two older brothers had returned from their holidays and stood by his two younger ones throughout what remained of their summer. But he was alone... what did they call this? The middle child syndrome? Being somewhere in-between?

Formal dark suits were claustrophobic, and the heat was stifling, but all five sons and their father stood tall as they honoured their Sunshine in a final goodbye. It seemed the entire town had turned out to do the same and as much as Christopher wanted to run from the "she's in a better place" and "she would be so proud of you" comments, he stayed by his fathers' side simply to stay afloat throughout the ordeal.

Christopher watched his father closely and mimicked what he saw... the polite "thank you" and strong handshakes, the slight bowing of the head and "yes she would be" responses. Three weeks after his mum was killed, 17-year-old Christopher Bartlett continued to mimic his father and took up smoking while walking the paddocks each sunset. In his grief, John Bartlett did not notice. In fact, he stopped noticing a lot of things.

He no longer saw how the sun continued to set in glorious hues of yellow and orange then a brilliant red as it kissed the horizon. He did not notice how the nectarines, peaches, and plums had ripened for the picking and how the apple and pear trees were bursting with potential. All he could see was blood... the same colour as that damn lipstick his Sunshine loved to wear day in and day out... the same colour as the barn whose ladder they would climb every month to watch the rising of the full moon from open doors and haystacks. John Bartlett stopped noticing many things from his quiet place of grief, including how loudly his middle son chose to ignore his.

But Kirra noticed. The Australian Aboriginal girl who Christopher had kissed once saw everything. She noticed how he avoided being alone with her, the way he followed his father onto the paddocks every sunset and smoked tailor-made cigarettes as he did, and mostly how he did not cry for Sunshine.

Kirra, her parents - one white and one black - and her brother mourned. Her mother called this 'sorry time' and they were not allowed to mention Sunshine by name. Kirra's mum grieved and she did so loudly. They had become close over the summer and although Sunshine was her employer, Kirra's mum always felt accepted and appreciated by her. When they first sat together and Kirra's mum shared her grief, she freed a deep, heartbreaking howl from within her… one that slammed Kirra in the chest and lodged in her throat until she embraced it and joined her mother in her sorrow. Together they mourned and together would heal. Kirra knew this but she did not know how to help Christopher free his grief. Men mourned differently to women, and they rarely shared their sorrows.

Then the day arrived when summer came to an end, and Kirra’s parents made the heartbreaking decision to move on. John Bartlett would not have had the funds to pay them a wage during the leaner months of winter and spring, and Colin James did not want to burden him with this. So, they said goodbye to the farmer and his sons, all four apart from the middle one who chose to walk those paddocks and smoke that cigarette rather than face watching his Kirra go...

Yeah, I'm fucked... Chris thought as he took another long gulp of the Bud from the glass bottle then shook his head to forget that memory from 32 years ago. The sounds of his brothers, their wives, and children grew louder and when he heard them in the house, he looked away from the old barn and turned to face the kitchen counter adorned in whoopie pies, chocolate brownies, chocolate cake, and a black bottom pie.

"Hey bro," Mike Bartlett greeted Chris warmly. "How you holding up?"

Michael was the oldest of the Bartlett sons and the shortest. He had the same blonde hair as their mother and her warm smile to match... something which irritated Chris as Mike was a perfectionist and always wanted to take charge of everything which their mother did not.

"I'm okay," Chris answered quietly as they shook hands.

"Geez... how's Matty after seeing the old man die?"

Chris stared at Mike, wanting to hate him for his lack of tact but chose to swallow his irritability instead. "He's doing fine. Kids process death differently to adults I guess."

"Dave and Joe are okay too but Will is taking it a bit hard," Mike said as he opened the refrigerator door and reached for a bottle of Bud.

Chris nodded. David Bartlett was a year older than he and a year younger than Michael. He stood in his brothers' shadow until Christopher arrived and dethroned him of that burden. David then grew in independence. He was reliable like Michael and could be counted on by his parents to get chores done and help around the farm, but he also had a lot of friends and would spend every free moment with them playing baseball, swimming in creeks or kissing girls under bleachers.

Joseph Bartlett was the youngest of the five sons and was self-centred and in his element when in the spotlight of extra attention. Joseph also bore the same blonde hair and the same wide smile as their mother and Mike, and his personality was as warm as Sunshine's so many people were drawn to him… including Christopher. William Bartlett was two years younger than Christopher and three years older than Joseph so, in total, there were seven years from the oldest Bartlett son to the youngest. William was more like their father, bearing the same dark features as Christopher and John. Their dark brown hair and eyes painted them in shades of gloom and hardness, and many thought they savoured stewing in the equally dark tones of self-inflicted agony.

Mike quickly drank the Bud all the while keeping his eyes on Chris who stared at the floor. When Mike knew he was going to be hard-pressed to get a conversation from his little brother, he tossed the glass bottle in the bin then nodded at Chris before leaving him alone to his thoughts in the kitchen. Chris smiled. He knew this would work as Mike was never comfortable with silence. He retrieved the bottle and gently tossed it in the recycling bin their father had placed outside of the kitchen window.

"You look pleased with yourself."

Chris turned and saw his wife leaning against the stove with her arms folded. She was smiling and he laughed lightly. He slowly walked towards her, noticing how she unfolded her arms to welcome him to her sweet embrace. He kissed the dark brown freckles that decorated her nose then watched as her full lips pursed into a tight pout as though something had tickled her. He placed his hands on her hips and squeezed them gently, hinting to her what was on his mind. She laughed lightly as she tilted her head back, exposing her neck so that he kissed and hummed against her warm brown skin there.

“Ewww… get a room you two!”

Chris turned his head to see their three children standing nearby. Matty was holding a brown paper box while their daughters, Emily and Hannah, were leaning on the kitchen counter.

“Dad we found this… we were looking around in the attic and saw it,” Matty said as he carefully laid the old box on the counter. “Is that Grammy’s handwriting?”

Chris walked over to the counter and turned the box to get a closer look. It was Sunshine’s... her cursive handwriting was distinct as she loved to exaggerate the loop in her ‘r’s. Chris saw she had written his name on the box and when he opened it, he stood back to catch his breath.

Inside were diaries and the very first had the name of another on it. It was as though she had gifted different people with fragments of her personality and moments of her thoughts but decided to leave her most private ones to him. Chris looked at his wife then back at the first diary in the brown paper box.

Kirra.

“This one is for you,” Chris said as he handed his wife the bound book.

Kirra Bartlett stared at him. Her wild wavy hair was getting loose of their bun and partially covered her dark brown eyes as she stared down at the book Chris had placed in her hands. She exhaled slowly and heard her mothers’ wail from long ago. Then she inhaled and knew that now was the time her Christopher would finally free his sorrows.

Thank you for taking time out of your day to read my third piece of Vocal's Summer Fiction Series! If you enjoyed it, please send me a like by clicking the heart below or by sending a tip. I appreciate your support.

The story starts with "Sunshine and the moon's shadow: the old barn" and will continue with "Sandy soils and infertile lands: the colour of something new".