The Visit
The path’s gravel crunched underfoot with each of Adam’s slow, deliberate steps.
Even wrapped in a thick woollen coat, a scarf wound around his neck, he still shivered with each gentle gust. His breaths came out in plumes of pale mist, and the sky above was a lifeless grey veil, obscuring any trace of the sun. It should have come as no surprise: it was a January morning, after all, but it still added to Adam’s foul mood.
What bothered Adam most, however, was not the winter cold nor the bleak sky. It was the gnawing, knotted feeling in his stomach. It was a feeling he had become thoroughly familiar with in the past year; an almost overpowering sensation of anxiety. Before he had even left the house this morning, he had convinced himself that he would ignore the feeling, but with each second, with each step down the tree-lined gravel avenue, it only worsened, despite all his efforts to quash it.
He abruptly paused when he realised his vision had begun to blur. Furiously, he scrubbed at the budding tears with gloved hands. The knot in his stomach seemed to lurch, almost as if it were trying to break through his skin, and Adam suddenly found himself heaving deep, heavy breaths. His hand shot out to grasp the rough trunk of one of the elm trees that flanked the avenue. You shouldn’t be like this, he scolded himself. A whole year later and you can’t even make the journey without losing it!
He jolted, and recoiled against the tree when he felt something touch his shoulder. His breathing still ragged, he whirled around only to find a squat, old woman, in a squat beige coat that seemed too long for her and a bowed hat that shadowed most of her face. She must have been at least seventy – perhaps eighty, but Adam had never been good at guessing ages – and she stood no taller than his chest, yet he had jumped like a scared rabbit.
The old woman’s beady eyes widened beneath her hat as Adam leapt back. “Are you alright?” she asked, in a deeper voice that Adam would have imagined.
“I – yes – I’m fine, sorry” he stammered. Despite the morning chill, he felt crimson bloom in his cheeks. An old woman gets the jump on you and you start wetting yourself. What would Daniel think of that?
The woman’s arm twitched forward as if to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder before she hesitated, and asked, “Are you feeling well? You look as if you’re about to get sick.”
“Sick? No, no,” he lied – the knotted pang of anxiety in his stomach made him want to vomit right then and there. “I’m … I’m just here to visit my brother.”
The woman smiled faintly, and nodded in understanding. Then she did touch his arm, very gently, with a pink-gloved hand. “You’re certain you’re okay? If you like, I can –”
“No, really, I’m fine,” he insisted, and forced a smile of his own. “Thank you, though. That’s, ah … very kind of you.”
The woman nodded again – slower, this time – but she kept concerned eyes fixed on him. Even after Adam flashed another feigned smile and continued down the path, he could feel her watching him.
Even she knows you’re a miss, he thought bitterly, and chattered his teeth as a gust of frigid wind swept across the avenue.
He trudged on, passing more elm trees with their spiny, leafless branches clawing at the grim sky. He was coming closer now, and no matter how hard he tried, the anxiety only swelled inside him. Each rise and fall of his feet seemed to last minutes, and resonated with the deafening thump of his heart. When he finally came to a smaller path that split from the avenue between two moss-mottled trees, he paused, squeezed his eyes shut, and sucked in a deep breath. He did not know how long he stood there, vainly trying to rein in his nerves, before he finally turned down the path.
And there Daniel was, stood down at the path’s end. Hands thrust in the pockets of his long winter coat, and short, sandy-brown hair swaying in the brisk wind, he was leaning back against the trunk of another tree, looking as relaxed as ever. Adam, on the contrary, knew he must have looked a wreck himself – he certainly felt like one – but when Daniel’s eyes settled on him with a smile, Adam could not help but smile back.
“There you are!”
“Hey,” Adam breathed as he came to a stop a few feet from the tree. “I … I’m really sorry I didn’t come sooner.”
Daniel waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, stop. You don’t need to come every weekend, you know.”
“I should,” Adam muttered. He could not quite bring himself to meet Daniel’s eyes, and instead he stared absently at the ground. “I promised I would come every day.”
Daniel snorted. “Christ, would you stop going on like that? I already told you not to worry about it. Besides,” a grin split his face, “I’d be sick of you if you came every day.” He laughed then, and Adam found himself joining. It felt strange, almost foreign, to laugh. It had been a long time since he laughed, not since … When was the last time I laughed?
The sound of their chuckling soon died, and silence fell, broken only by the sound of the bare trees sighing in the blustering wind. As the two of them stood there, Adam fumbled for words, but none came.
“So. How are things?” Daniel finally asked. When Adam forced himself to look up, he found Daniel loftily eyeing the bare branches above him where a robin had roosted.
“… Fine. Everything’s fine.”
“Fine?” Daniel lofted a bold eyebrow. “I don’t exactly have a lot to keep me entertained here, Adam. Come on, tell me what’s been going on. How are mom and dad?”
“They’re … doing a little better. Mom is in a better mood since the new year. She’s started jogging again, and she even went to her book club last week.”
“Good. That’s good.” Daniel’s eyes were glazed with thought. “What about dad?”
Adam shifted uncomfortably. “Well, he’s still the same. He seems normal most of the time, especially when he’s around people, but …”
“And when he’s on his own?”
“I’ve heard him crying at night. I even caught him smoking on the terrace last week,” Adam said with a sigh. “I don’t know how long he’s been sneaking smokes like that, but I doubt he just started now.”
“He’s smoking again?” Daniel exclaimed as his eyes, narrowed into a glare, shot back to Adam.
“He’s only doing it to cope, Dan.”
“He needs - …” Daniel trailed off, before he leaned his head back against the tree and exhaled deeply. “I know. And I know it’s not easy. But … try to help him quit before it gets worse, alright. Just offer him as much support as you can, you and mom.”
Adam frowned. “He won’t accept any support. Whenever I can even work up the nerve to ask him if he’s okay, he insists he’s fine and then asks me how I’m doing before he goes off on a long lecture about mental health.”
Daniel’s lips twitched into the ghost of a sad smile. “Yeah, that’s dad for you. Just promise you’ll do what you can, alright?”
“Daniel –”
“For me?”
Those words made Adam wince. “I promise,” he breathed
Silence fell once again. The robin roosting overhead took flight, and Daniel watched it disappear behind another tree’s labyrinth of bristly branches before he idly asked, “How’s school going?”
“It’s …” Adam trailed off, and shrugged. “It’s hard to really learn anything anymore. Or even pay attention. I’m going in, though. I haven’t missed a single day since November.”
“What about exams?”
Adam’s eyes instinctively went to ground again as he toed the gravel with his shoe. “They’re not until March. I – I think they’ll be fine, though. I’ll scrape by.”
“Scrape by? I know you can do a lot better than that, Adam. You used to love waving those straight-A report cards in my face.”
“Yeah, well, I can’t do that anymore,” Adam muttered meekly. “Those straight-As were all … they were all before …” A lump formed in his throat, and he suddenly struggled to breath, much less speak.
“I know,” Daniel intoned. “I know. But you can’t let this hold you back, Adam.
“It’s not exactly that simple, Dan. I can’t just … forget about what happened. I can’t just pretend nothing’s wrong, that nothing’s changed!” He was shocked to hear the unintentional heat in his voice; getting angry at his brother was the last thing Adam wanted to do, but Daniel only nodded morosely.
“Alright, alright; I know it hasn’t been easy.” Daniel was looking at him now, his emerald eyes marred with concern. When he spoke again, his tone was lighter. “Hey, how are things with that girl?”
Adam blinked at the sudden change of topic. “Girl?”
Daniel’s wry grin returned. “Don’t pretend you don’t know who I’m talking about. Her name was Lisa, right?”
Adam could feel himself blushing. “What about her?”
“You told me last time you were going to ask her out!”
“Oh. Did I say that?”
“Oh, you definitely did,” Daniel chimed, “so don’t pretend you forgot. What happened?”
“Well … I just started thinking, and …”
“Oh boy, that never ends well,” Daniel drawled gleefully, and Adam shot him a look before continuing.
“She hasn’t sent me any … y’know, positive signals? I – I just don’t think she really feels the same way, and even if I did ask her out, she’d probably say no and that would ruin the friendship and –” Suddenly aware that he was rambling, Adam promptly shut his mouth and began to fidget with his fingers.
Daniel, however, was still smiling broadly. “Positive signals? What, are you waiting for her to pass you a note telling you to ask her out? Or maybe she’ll wear hold up a sign?” He chortled then, and rolled his eyes. “You’re not meant to know this stuff, Adam. You just have to guess and hope for the best.”
“Guess? Are you serious? You never seemed to guess! You always seemed so sure and confident when it came to this sort of stuff.” Even then, Adam could enviously recall his brother’s former girlfriends.
“Confident?” Daniel threw his head back against the trunk and laughed. “Jesus, Adam, nobody’s confident about this stuff. It’s just about being brave. It’s hard, I know, but it’s as simple as yet.”
“I dunno, Dan, if she says no –”
“Then she says no,” Daniel finished. “And you know what, Adam? That’s just life.”
“Right, but –”
“What’s the ‘but’? Do you really want to go the next few months, years, or however long it takes you to get over her, wondering what would have happened if you just worked up the courage to ask her a simple question? Yeah, she might say no. But then at least you’ll have proven to yourself that you can do it. It’ll hurt for a while, sure, but then when the next girl comes a long, you’ll be able to ask her. And if that doesn’t work on, then you can ask the next one, and the next one, until you finally get the answer you’ve been dreaming of. But if you never ask? Then yeah, you’ll never feel the sting of rejection, but you’ll always be wondering, wondering what might have happened, until it’s too late, and then that wondering turns to regret. And trust me, Adam: you’d rather rejection over regret.” Daniel’s eyes were wide now, and his voice was solemn.
Adam hung his head, still twiddling his thumbs. “You’re right,” he said hoarsely. “Of course you’re right. But Dan, I … I’m not brave, not like you. I’m not brave enough to do that, or – or any of the things you want me to do. I can’t ask her out, I can’t do well in school, I can’t even help dad quit smoking!” He found himself breathing heavily once again; the words had spilled out without a thought. His eyes had blurred with tears, but the worst of it all was that Daniel was silent. Unable to match his brother’s gaze, Adam wiped his owns eyes with a balled fist. “You just … you want me to do all these things, and I just can’t. I want to do them – I want to make you proud – but I … I haven’t been able to do anything since you left.”
The silence fell hardest this time. A leaden, unbearable silence as the wind briefly picked up, toying with the frayed tail of Adam’s scarf. Then there was a crunch of gravel as Daniel stepped forward, and laid a hand on his shoulder. “You are brave, Adam. You’re brave for just getting up each day and moving forward. You’re brave for just being able to go to school, for being able to even think about asking this girl out. And I know you’re brave enough to help mom and dad get through this.” It was only when Daniel squeezed his shoulder that Adam looked up, and stared into his brother’s eyes. “And I will always be proud of you for that”
The knot in Adam’s stomach seemed to flood through his body, up through his throat, and the words that had haunted him for so long came out softly. “I miss you,” he whispered. With a shaky sigh, he reached forward, and placed a hand on the glossy black marble at the foot of the elm tree. In the pale morning light, the gilded words etched onto the stone glimmered.
DANIEL R. PEARSE
1997 – 2018
LOVING SON, BROTHER AND FRIEND
REST IN PEACE
Adam closed his eyes softly as his fingers gently traced the cold stone’s unblemished surface. “I promise I’ll help dad quit smoking. I promise I’ll try harder at school. I promise I’ll ask that girl out.” His hand tightened on the gravestone. “And I promise I’ll always make you proud.”
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Adam opened his eyes. The winter wind still made his hairs stand on end even beneath his coat, but he was surprised to find a chink in the grey clouds above through which thin fractures of golden light shone through. Only a warmthless sliver, but light nonetheless. Smiling softly, Adam turned, and began to walk back up the path.
Just before he turned back down the elm-lined avenue, he turned back to Daniel’s grave. His brother was leaning back against the tree, hands buried in his pockets the way they always were. With a start, Daniel noticed him staring. “Are you still here? What are you wasting time for, you have a lot to do before your next visit!”
Without a thought, Adam laughed. He smiled one last time at the grave, before he took off running down the avenue. He did have a lot to do, after all.
