Let's Take A Walk

Blinders

  You ask me if I am scared.

  I lay on the grass and pretend that I do not hear you.

  I have already thrown up what little breakfast I could keep down and I feel like retching again.

  You say that there is nothing to be afraid of, to get myself off the ground and take it like a man.

  But how can I do that? How can I face this without you?

  I was always the one who finished your fights for you, but that was only because you had no fear and picked them with grown men twice your size.

  You are bigger now, but you will always be little to me.

  You stand over me, your head blocking out the sun. The rays frame your head and make your already yellow hair appear golden. You might as well be an angel.

  I get off the ground and stand there on unsteady feet.

  Flashes on flashes on flashes cloud my vision for a moment, of us a young boys, of the war, of me being captured until-

  "Go ahead and put on your blinders." Your voice comes through. I am reminded of me telling you that when we were younger, referring to how you'd put your hands on either side of your face to block out the social anxiety that crippled you.

  Over the years, it turned into a popped up hood of a jacket, or a baseball cap low over the eyes, or sunglasses. I take my advice from your lips and put on my sunglasses.

  The world slips into a tinted sepia focus through the lenses.

  And then, you let me go. You force me to choose to face my fear.

  I think it is funny how you always tell everybody how I was so brave. I was never brave. I just couldn't stand to see you hurt, even if you were the one who instigated the altercation.

  So I pretend I am you. I pretend I am little boy Will who wears busted lips as regularly as threadbare shirts from the charity bin. I pretend that I come from no money, no family, and that I have absolutely nobody to hold me back.

  But that last part seems wrong. For I remember you always coming back to me.

  I falter, my stolen confidence wavering.

  "Come with me." I implore. I try to grab hold of your roguish bravery, but there is a key component missing. It is me. I realize now as I always knew then that we exist to walk side by side, so again I ask you to come with me.

  You take a step back so the sun shines on me. You recede into the shadows and watch it sparkle off of my prosthetic leg. The rest of the damage from the war is all in my head.

  And I see that you smile. It is not an abrasively joyful smile, it is soft, thoughtful, wistful. It is time for me to go, and you know that I must do this alone.

  But still...

  I lost you for five years in a cell, as I was beaten and tortured and forgot my own name. Now that I have you back, I don't want to go anywhere without you.

  "Come with me." I reach out. You step back even more.

  And suddenly we are little again, you and I. You are giggling and laughing as I chase behind you, always behind you so I know you are safe. We are in my backyard, under the oak tree, running through the streets of the market, we are everywhere and everyone knows us as the little kid who has a big mouth and the bigger one who has a big punch.

  "Danny, Danny!" You call, gleefully, blissfully. "Danny," I catch up with you. We are ten, then seven, then four, all of my time with you swirling around us.

  And now you are in front of me and we are twenty five and I am missing a leg and you are much, much bigger.

   "Danny," You whisper. "It's time for me to let you go."