How Heavy the Days Part 2 by Zooie
Standard disclaimers apply
2nd person POV
In our fury and muddle
We act like children, cut off,
Fled from ourselves,
Bound by silly shame.
-Hermann Heese, “Destiny”
You’ve been at the school for about a week now.
It’s really not your thing, the prissy uniforms and social games
and all, but you know how to deal. You know from experience that if
you act like a moron, any mistakes you make will be put down to your
dimwittedness. If you talk constantly, no one will get a chance to question
your motives.
You don’t know why you’re worried, especially.
The kids at this place didn’t really know what war was. The biggest
hardship they’d had to endure thus far had been the loss of satellite
TV. You could probably show up to class in full battle gear and they’d
ask you what designer you were wearing. Not that you wouldn’t
die for that naiveté.
When you first got there, you’d made a little deal
with yourself. You’d decided that while you were undercover as
a normal kid, you’d do your damnedest to actually be one. You’d
try to wring some semblance of a childhood out of life while you still
had the chance. After all, you could get blown to pieces tomorrow, why
not try to live today?
You hadn’t lived amongst your peers for a long time
and had never interacted with anyone your age who’d had a normal
upbringing. Who’d grown up with a family and a house and a room
of their own. Who had a little brother who would break all their CDs
and a cat that would crap under the desk. Whose play-dates did not involve
weapons of mass destruction. Who, when the admission forms asked for
their birthday, didn’t have to invent an answer. Who couldn’t
sleep at night because they were love-sick, not because they were wracked
with guilt and regrets.
You supposed it was like playing house, except backwards.
Instead of being a kid pretending to be an adult, you were an adult
pretending to be a kid. Sad, really. Pathetic, too. And dangerous. And
stupid. Playing games in the middle of the war. Maybe you were no better
than your fellow students.
But you played your selfish part, slipping into the role
of the indulged adolescent. You pretended to be indignant that rich
old daddy-kins had dumped you into boarding school while he flitted
around the globe with wife number four. A lot of the other students
were in similar situations and commiserated. You claimed you went to
the gym so often because you needed to work off your frustrations. A
lot of the other guys started coming with you. You wrote off your academic
ignorance as laziness rather than a result of being under-educated.
A few girls offered to “tutor” you. You started taking long
walks at night just to be by yourself for one goddamn minute. No one
noticed, for they were all asleep.
You fit in so well, you were more like them than they
were.
At first you found it rather amusing. It turned out those
lavish lifestyles they flash across vid screens aren’t so imaginary
after all. It’s actually kind of fun to rub shoulders with future
billionaires and match wits with the children of leading diplomats.
It was a thrill ride you’d never experienced prior. Bobby Bigbucks
and Franny Fatcheck awere actually rather interesting once you got to
know them. Sure, they may define war as “icky,” but they
had problems of their own, too. Not that you would call their problems
pressing or even relevant, but still. In their world, in that context,
their personal trials were certainly bothersome.
Daddy won’t let me buy that Prada dress for the
dance. Big meanie. He’s so cheap. Doesn’t he want me to
be happy?
Did you see his new car? How did a loser like him get
a sweet ride like that? Yeah, I’ll help you slit the tires. Tonight
okay?
Okay. So maybe their problems were mostly contrived. Still,
sometimes they hit upon the right idea.
Did you hear about the attack?! Oh, it’s so horrible!
They say thirty people died! That’s how many people are in our
lecture class! Can you imagine...?!
My father said the country is preparing for war. I’m
going to have to go back soon. I can’t stay here while my people
are dying.
But anyway, you were so caught up in playing the normal
teenager, it turned out that you were the only one who wasn’t
noticeably concerned with the war. For your first week at the school,
no one really noticed. Then the proverbial shit hit the fan.
“I’m open!” you hollered, ready to receive
the ball. You and some classmates were in the middle of a basketball
game. The ancient sport had recently been revived and was currently
en vogue with the wealthy. It was easy enough to pick up and you and
some other guys had taken to playing a game or two in the gym after
classes were over. Usually some girls sat on the bleachers and watched,
but sometimes a few of the more adventurous would join you.
Jang passed you the ball and you took off down the court,
dribbling and dodging for all you were worth. Your team was behind by
two points and here was your chance to even things up before the period
ended. If you could get just one good shot....Your sneakers slapped
against the wooden slats of the floor as you thundered down the court,
weaving between the lunging players. You were quite intent on the game,
but still absently noticed when someone’s phone rang in the background.
You were concentrating too hard on your moves, though, to pay attention
to what was said.
“Hello? Hi, Mom! How are- what? Is something wrong?
W-why are you crying?........... W-what? How?............. Oh my God............
Oh my God..........But why?! .......... Oh.......... I’ll be ready
to leave in a few hours. T-tell Sid I love him, okay?............ I’ll
be home soon, Mom. I love you!”
Strangely, the further you got down the court, the fewer
opponents you encountered. Everyone just seemed to disappear. You didn’t
really notice, however, for you were near your goal. You’re almost
at the court’s end and, as you near the basket, you leaped into
the air with all your strength, stretching upwards with the ball in
hand. You’re almost there.... *twang* You hung from the rim for
a second, then released your grip to fall safely to the floor.
“YES!” you hollered. You had just made a slam
dunk, which was, in your estimation, pretty damn cool. Your team was
now ahead by one, thanks to your amazing prowess. You turned around
to accept congratulations from your teammates when you noticed that
no one was paying attention to your brilliant play. In fact, no one
was even on the court but you. They’re all across the room.
“Are you okay, Cassie?” One of the girls in
the bleachers was crying. A group of students had clustered around her
and were attempting to calm her down. She looked pretty upset, her face
pale and her shoulders shaking. She clutched a small cellphone in one
hand and a handkerchief in the other.
“M-my daddy is dead!” she sobbed out. “He
was killed this morning. There was... an a-attack.... on his base.”
“Oh my...” the group murmured collectively.
Amazed and sympathetic expressions flitted across their faces. Curious,
you scooped up the basketball and trotted towards them, your footsteps
slapping loudly in the still gym.
“They... they think it was a Gundam. From the colonies,”
Cassie continued, wiping at her face with her handkerchief. Her foundation
was smeared all over the small white cloth and her mascara ran down
her cheeks in long black streaks.
“A Gundam?” The students were confused. “What’s
a Gundam.”
Cassie suddenly looked shocked. Her lipsticked mouth gaped
for a second, then she gasped. “Oh, no! Please forget I said that!
I-I have to go! Please, let me up!” She stood with a panicked
look in her eyes and shoved her way through the group. She ran out of
the gym, her books forgotten on the bleachers. No one made a move to
stop her.
The students all exchanged shocked glances. “What’s
a Gundam?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never heard of that
before.”
“Oh, poor Cassie!”
“It must be so hard to lose a parent.”
“And she’s so young!”
“It’s hard to believe people still die like
that in today’s world.”
“I can’t believe this. What a bunch of bull,
attacking a base in a time of supposed peace!”
You am angry, for more reasons than you can count.
“Ummm, hello!” you interrupted. “Did
no one see that shot I made? Slam dunk, here!”
You found yourself the butt of many irritated glares.
“Don’t you even care that Cassie’s dad died?”
one of the girls accused, an ugly frown on her face.
“Of course I care! Jesus Christ, I’m not that
much of a bastard!” you complain, tucking the basketball under
your arm. “But what’s crying about it going to do?”
“How about a little respect?” Jang snapped.
“He was a great man and his memory deserves reverence.”
“For God’s sake,” you muttered. “He
was a soldier! Soldiers die! If you don’t expect that, you’re
an idiot!”
“Duo,” Jang said carefully. “Are you
aware that we are facing an imminent war? You seem to be the only one
here who isn't’ somewhat worried about what’s happening
to our world.”
“Oh, I know alright,” you told him. “I’m
just not freaking out like you guys are. Why should I? That‘s
not going to help anything”
If you leave your responses open to interpretation, you’re
not really lying.
“How can you be so cold?” a blonde fumed.
“Come on, let’s get out of here.” She grabbed the
arm of the girl closest to her and stood. Everyone followed her lead.
One by one, they filed out of the gym, frowning at you all the way.
You silently watched them go, still cradling the basketball under your
arm.
Your gaze returned to the books Cassie had abandoned to
the bleachers. She had doodled smiley faces and hearts all over her
notebooks. “I love Brad” was scrawled in big letters on
the spine of her binder. Her book covers were made out of flowered contact
paper. You frowned at the pile sadly. “Poor little missy...”
Yeah. Those students have no idea what war really is.
To them it’s just an unexpected phone call in the middle of the
afternoon. It’s an inconvenience. Maybe that’s the way it
should be for them. Maybe they weren’t meant to understand. Regardless,
there was one among them who now did.
You dropped the basketball to the floor. It bounced away,
thudding dully across the gym. You climbed up the bleachers to where
Cassie had been sitting, the wooden boards creaking beneath you. Bending
down, you scooped up the books and studied them intently. They smelled
faintly of designer perfume. Mind made up, you took off for the girl’s
dorm.
************
There was a stack of large cardboard boxes in the hallway. She was apparently
packing for an extended visit home. Something told you she wouldn’t
be returning to school anytime soon.
“Cassie?” You knocked on her door quietly,
rapping your knuckles against the hard surface. “Can I come in?”
“Who is it?” a teary voice asked. You could
hear rustling and thumps from behind her door, and the sound of tape
ripping. Packing was in full swing. You had no doubt her possessions
would be ensconced in the boxes before dinner was served.
“It’s me, Duo,” You answered, shifting
your grip on her books. “I brought your stuff. You forgot it in
the gym.”
“Can you leave it next to the door?” she requested
weakly. “I’m a bit busy.”
“Sure,” you assured her. “No problem.
I’ll just put them right here.”
“T-thanks.”
You’d bent down, the waistband of your uniform’s
tight slacks cutting sharply into your waist. You’d laid the books
next to her door, straightening the stack so that it was neat and tidy.
Then you had stood there, staring at her door, strung with indecision.
She‘d decorated her door with magazine models and goofy greeting
cards. A dry erase board hung in the center and silly messages were
written across it in green ink. ‘Your homework is to eat bleach
and die!’ [1] you read distractedly. “Cassie? Can I talk
to you for a minute?”
“What do you want, Duo? I’m kind of busy!”
She didn’t sound too happy. You couldn’t blame her, really.
You shifted your weight from one foot to the other and rubbed your sweating
palms down the front of your trousers. “And if you want to convey
your sympathies, thank you, but I really don’t want to hear it
right now, okay?”
“Ah, no. It’s not that. I just want to tell
you something. It won’t take long. You don’t even have to
open the door. Just hear me out, okay?” You quickly responded.
“I’m listening,” she said shortly. “But
please be brief. I... I can’t listen very well right now.”
“Alright. Brief... sure. I can be brief. Ummmmm.”
“Would you please get to the point?” Cassie
didn’t sound too great. You could tell she was close to breaking.
You grimaced and tried to organize your thoughts into one neat paragraph.
It wasn’t easy.
“I guess what I want to say is, don’t give
up hope. He may be gone and it’s going to hurt for a long while,
but you can’t let that stop your life from happening. You can’t
just run away and hide from the world. You can’t stop seeing the
smiles and the laughter and the life. You have to keep being yourself,
because if you let this stop you from being who you are, that‘s
two deaths it‘s caused.”
The door opened. Cassie stood there, her hair a wreck,
her make-up smeared, her uniform wrinkled. She looked a far cry from
the pampered schoolgirl she’d been this afternoon. “Thank
you, Duo,” she said simply, meeting your eyes for an instant.
Then the door shut solidly in your face.
*************
That night as you walked alone under the stars, gazing
up at the barren moon, you thought about that school and its cloister
of children who understood so little. You thought about how you resented
their innocence and lack of knowledge. You thought about how you were
angered when the war dared violate on their perfect lives. You thought
about how their very ignorance was what you were fighting to save.
You thought about Cassie, whose life the war had thrown into disarray.
You thought that what you were really trying to save them
from was people like yourself.
You could try to be like them for an eternity, but that
wouldn’t change the fact that you weren‘t. You were as much
like them as they were like you.
As you walked through the night’s crisp, biting
air, hands chilled and thrust into your pockets, the concrete hard beneath
your feet, you were thankful that was true.
You know nothing of time,
You know only that, somewhere in the distance,
A war is being fought,
You whittle your wood into sword and shield and spear
And play your game blissfully in the garden,
Set up tents,
Carry white bandages marked with the white cross.
And if my wish for you has any power,
So war will remain
For you, always, only a dim legend,
So you will never stand in the field
And never die
And never rush out of a house crumbling in fire.
-Hermann Hesse, “To Children”
*******
The End
*******
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