Chapter 4

   Tidings

“No way!” Hannah exclaimed. “He really socked you right in the jaw?!”

“Yup, straight to the jaw!” Ethan exclaimed back. “Couldn’t believe it. Planked to the ground immediately. Couldn’t hear normally for like a month after.”

“Damn... but... well...”

“I kinda deserved it?”

“You kinda deserved it,” she chuckled.

“Aah, that’s what everyone else said... how lonely it is to be me...”

“Ah, sure, sure, I’m sure it’s the loneliest thing ever.” she rolled her eyes lightly at him, prompting him to smile as the two came to stop in front of a walled compound. Beyond it, a two-part building stretched, dozens of windows stacking horizontally.

“Man,” Ethan mumbled, taking in a deep breath. “This place hasn’t changed either.”

“It has, actually,” Hannah said. “We’ve got like two wending machines and we’ve got a new basketball hoop. Next year, we’re promised a tennis court!”

“Oh, wow! All-things-are-a-comin’!”

“Oh, shut it.”

“But seriously,” he said. “It’s the same place. Remember that bench?” he asked, pointing at the worn-down, wooden bench some forty feet from the entrance. “We used to show up like an hour early before the school and just camp on that damned thing like it was the coolest thing ever.”

"Haha, yeah. Most of what I remember, though, is you planking my window at five in the morning and dragging my half-zombified corpse out."

“O’, yea. You were really bad with the mornings.”

“Still am.”

“And what a model teacher you’ve become...”

“... you’ve come to stay?” she asked suddenly as the two looked at each other.

“Which answer will make me seem cooler?”

“Not answering will make you seem mysterious.”

“Feels cheap.”

“It is cheap.”

“I’ve always been a cheap guy, though,” he laughed lightly, sighing after. “I’ve come back for good, yeah. I’m gonna help dad with the farm until I find a job.”

“... I realized something was off a few years back,” Hannah said. “Flo’ used to chatter non-stop about you initially. E’ did this in the city, he did that, you won’t believe who he saw... and then, year after year, the chatter began to wane until it completely died. It’s been two years since she last told a story.”

“It’s been hard on her, I heard.”

“And on you?”

“I’m a big boy,” he chuckled.

“Aren’t you barely above six feet?”

“Oi, that’s still fairly big! Also, besides the point.”

“Pfft...”

“One day, when I’m drunk enough, I’ll tell you everything if you wanna listen.”

“Sure.”

“Until then... well, denial, denial and, oh yeah, more denial.”

“Ha ha ha, very well, Mr. Denial. I’ve got to go prepare for the classes now. You gonna be okay on your own?”

“... it’s difficult to determine what I’m more: offended that you’re being a teacher... or aroused that you’re being a teacher.”

“Well, while you figure all that out, I’ll go. Right: if you ever run into James, run.”

“Eh? Why?” Ethan asked, tilting his head. “Even if that pipsqueak is angry with me, I’m pretty sure I can handle him.”

“First off-- he’s not just angry. He literally hates you. Secondly, that pipsqueak is now a giant that can probably squeeze your head like a watermelon. So, you know...”

“Damn... looks like I’m gonna have to put in some cardio, then.”

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

"Haha, you should. Anyway, it was nice seeing you, E'. We should catch up some more some other time."

“Sure thing.”

Ethan waved her off as she strolled into the school's grounds, leaving him behind. He stared at her back until she faded from his sight, turning around and walking back toward his home. Sighing, he smiled bitterly; Hannah was... Hannah. Even if, on the surface, she seemed approachable, Ethan easily saw the massive wall she had erected. He hardly blamed her-- he was lucky she didn't scratch his eyes out.

He had burned that bridge six years ago, on the day when he told her he was leaving... and he never hoped to repair it. No, he didn’t even have enough courage to try. In reality, past that chemistry that was built on twenty years of knowing each other, Ethan felt little else, not unlike her. If there was anything waiting for the two, it was well down the line, beyond what he could see.

Pausing, he felt the belt against him, cooling him slightly. The grass swayed and the branches of the surrounding trees danced and the wind chimes cried out into the day. It was difficult to reconcile the difference between who he was when he left versus who he is now, upon the return. Though the six years seem so minute, banal, almost insignificant in the scheme that is life... those six years were the gap between two people.

On one end stood Ethan, young and raw and arrogant and hopeful. Determined to move up against the scalding waves, disregarding all the collateral pain he was inflicting on people who cared about him. He was brash, blunt, loud, outspoken, unbending, inflexible even. A sycophant even, when it served him. The young him who wasn’t afraid to burn all the bridges, to end all the relationships, to break every promise, all in pursuit of the monolithic dream.

And then... there was him of today. He was far from wise, but he had wizened up. He was far from old, but he was older, more learned, more patient, more withdrawn. It wasn't even due to the severe beatings the world had given him, but simply because he had calmed down. He had learned to listen and had learned to wait. The difference of six years had quieted him, almost drowning his voice, and, in large part, had made him fearful.

He was no longer someone who could rush blindly into anything and everything; rather, the very thought of it terrified him. Though most wounds were shallow, scars had piled up and formed invisible walls of his own that he wasn’t quite ready to tear down just yet. While his parents had seemingly forgiven him, most others have not... himself included among them.

Though Hannah had playfully brushed past it, he saw the hurt-- he wasn’t blind, not anymore, at least. He heard the pain in her voice and saw the scars in her memories. His return likely reopened the seared wounds and this was how she coped.

Everyone has their own means and their own ways and their own little rituals for when the awful things happen-- perhaps kiss a trinket, or drown in the bottle, or ignore it, or pretend it’s not even there or, in the very few cases... embrace it and process it healthily. Most people, Ethan had learned, are broken in one way or another. No, broken is perhaps too harsh of a word-- cracked is more apt.

They are all still whole with a few spiderweb-like cracks here and there. Chinks in the armor that had accumulated through life's experiences. A friend's first betrayal, the first breakup, missing out on a dream job, needing to take one you hate just to survive... tidings that life hands out one by one, and everyone needs to learn to manage.

The truly broken were few, and, luckily, he wasn't among them. Like most all others, he was cracked; here and there chinks extended and here and there he used glue to keep them together. Eventually, the glue will have to come off and he'll have to repair it properly... but he was still afraid. Along with those chinks, always, fear arises; a bad breakup, perchance, makes one fearful of any new relationship. An awful boss makes every new potential job a possible nightmare. For all chinks, then, become the whispers and the whispers drown, and at last, the husk lies down, defeated.

He returned home sometime past twelve, having taken a longer detour to explore slightly, lost in his thoughts. By the time he returned, his father had already gone off to the field, with his mother staying back to prepare lunch. He caught her sneaking a cigarette in the backyard, going through the daily newspapers in silence.

“Oi, E’! You scared me!” she exclaimed as Ethan sat down next to her. “Don’t tell your father.”

“Tell him what?”

“Good son!” she chuckled. “I sneak a few a day, for old times’ sake.”

“I ran into Hannah,” Ethan said after a moment’s silence.

“Oh? You two patched things up?”

“Ah, yes, of course. My charms, after all, are unmatched worldwide.” Ethan chuckled. “She was... well, Hannah. Smiling, laughing, playful. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she genuinely didn’t care.”

“Well, the difference is that now you know,” she said, taking a swipe, blowing the smoke away from the two. Dorothy suddenly appeared from behind the corner, strutting toward Ethan and lying down next to him while he began to rub her belly. “Be patient and win her back over.”

“Why are you so hellbent on pairing me with Hannah?” Ethan asked. “There are other women on the isle, you know that, right? Women who would be far easier to woo or whatever, all things considered."

“... you probably don’t remember this,” she spoke out after a few moments, glancing at him with a smile. “When you were six, your dad and I packed bags and went to the beach on the other side. We were both really nervous and swore at least one of us would always be near you.”

“...”

“And, well, as God is our witness, we screwed up-- like we did many-a-time,” the two laughed for a moment before she continued. “Almost immediately, actually. Ten minutes into having settled down, we realized... you were gone. We panicked like all hell and began running around like a pair of madmen, looking for you. Took us a minute or so to find you-- you couldn’t have been further than twenty yards from us. We easily could have seen you from our seats, actually.”

“...”

“You were sitting next to this tiny girl who was building a sandcastle. You were just sitting there, the usual devil who ruined everything, just staring at the castle in silence. And then the girl handed you a bucket and said ‘wanna help?’... and you helped. Honest to God, to this day, it is the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen in my life. You two sat there for an hour just pouring sand together in silence. And, well, that’s why I root for you two silly kids.”

“... you never told me that,” Ethan said, chuckling at the thought.

“Haven’t told you many things,” she said. “Anyway, lunch will be ready in a while. Go fetch your dad from the fields.”

“Can’t you just phone---I’m going, I’m going...”

“Take some water with you!” she hollered after him. “Sun’s heatin’ up!”

“Sun can’t heat--ah, never mind. Fine, I’ll bring a couple of bottles.”

Relenting with a sigh, he fetched a pair of bottles from the fridge and moved out, heading toward the fields-- a huge stretch of fertile dirt that not only fed most families on the isle but also earned a decent buck through exports. The day was still young, but he was already exhausted. It spoke volumes to how little he exercised in the past six years. He knew, however, that was about to change; and though a good part of him looked forward to reinventing the wheel, another good part of him really didn’t want to go through the suffering. Alas...