Broken String

CLXIV

The bench looks exactly the same as it did last time and for a moment the memories of the last time they were here flood him and almost drag him away from where he is going. Oh, that was nice. Oh, that was so nice. But he firmly locks those feelings away because he is not here to swoon, or to be sexy.
He's here to walk. And he's determined.
A few ducks float quietly on the still, silver water, so luminescent in the blazing sun that it's hard to see where duck ends and water starts. People mill around the park, an old lady with one of those silly shopping trolleys walks on the path over there, a young father and his son play catch on the field on the other side of the lake. Everything is normal for everyone and everything except Eddy. And Brett, he guesses from how tense the hand he's been holding feels. He squeezes it and lets go, then locks the chair and puts both his hands on the bench.
"Alright. You gonna walk with me?" he asks tightly.
"Yes."
Eddy takes a deep breath, ignoring how scared Brett sounds and pulls. He's on his feet already.
Ow. Ow, shit. He grits his teeth but he swallows the sound because he knows what Brett thinks of this and he can't make him worry. Ow, is this more painful than earlier? He holds onto the bench for dear life but he doesn't sit. He won't sit. It'll fade.
He's sure it'll fade.
One, two, three breaths, his heart stuttering in his chest, and the daggers do fade, dissolving from dagger to naff knife to drawing pins.
He can walk with drawing pins.
He turns slightly so he can take Brett's hand and nods at him encouragingly.
He owes it to him too, you see. He owes him a healthy Eddy, a normal Eddy.
He owes him Eddy 2.0.
One step, and he closes. Another, close, another, close. The drawing pins fade until it feels like his leg is asleep, nothing more. He's on the path, and why not? He starts walking normally.
"Whoa. Eddy. Are you sure?"
"Yes." he says tightly, because you know what? It's going well! He's walking, actually walking. Not fast, maybe, but his legs work, the muscles bunching and releasing somewhat stiffly, but quite normally. He looks up and suddenly he's laughing. "Yes! It's okay!"
A giddiness floods up in him and he looks around. The old lady is gone but the dad and his son are still there. Do they realise what's going on here, that there is a guy here doing something he thought he may never do again? Surely not. But just then the boy drops the ball and turns, then smiles at him.
"Hey!" Eddy waves with an enthusiasm he didn't know he possessed. After a beat the boy waves back and runs towards his dad with his ball.
Like it's nothing at all.

The path leads around the pond. He can still see the bench, now about a hundred metres away. It's become his goal, his world, the centre of his universe. Surely he'll get back there. He laughs again and walks a little faster.
"Wow, Eddy..." Brett says. Eddy looks to check what he hears. Yes. There's a smile on Brett's face, the tight lines in his face softening, his eyes weary and oh, so moist.
"I know." he replies breathlessly.
Okay. So he'll readily admit if only to himself that it's getting just a little sorer by now but still it's  nothing too bad. Nothing like it was. He's not stuck, he's walking on with the gravel crunching underneath his feet and the bench coming steadily back towards him. Twenty more steps, eighteen, surely no more than fifteen now. He knows he's safe. His forehead is drenched now, his t-shirt wet with feverish sweat and his heart rate is through the roof but he's still stepping, he's actually there, he's made it.

He lets himself plop down on the bench and leans back.