Missing Camlin

She cried, because she missed Camlin.

Rose remembered Camlin, his laughing eyes, and his ready smile. She liked his laugh. He had been funny, and he had loved to make her laugh. When Rose was with him she wasn’t afraid of anything. Nothing could hurt her or make her do anything she didn’t want to do. She remembered when they had played all her favourite games for hours on end, and he never once complained. He had even made school easier for her, helping her with her homework, reminding her that the bullies that teased her didn’t understand, that one day she would be able to get them back. He had made her life so much better.

But now he was gone, and Rose didn’t know where. She knew that sometimes bad people came to see him, and sometimes they yelled at him because they were angry. Rose understood anger; her father was often a violent display of it. And every time her father got angry, Rose would run away and hide outside, and there Camlin would be, her saviour, her friend. He always saved her. He made her feel better, playing games and telling funny stories.

But now she would have to play alone, hide alone. She cried, missing Camlin, and wishing he hadn’t gone away. But he had, he had gone and left her and the world was scary again.

Her mother said that he was never going to come back. But Rose didn’t believe her. Of course Camlin would come back, he was her friend. He knew she loved him, and he loved her. That was why he would come back. Her mother laughed when Rose told her that Camlin was going to come back for her, and soon.

“Don’t you know, silly little girl, he won’t be doing anything now. He’s dead.”

“Dead? What was dead? Was that like sleeping?” She asked her mother, who laughed again.

“Yeah. Sleeping. Except you never wake up.”

Never? If you didn’t wake up, then why would you want to be dead in the first place? Rose was confused, she didn’t understand. Camlin would want to wake up, he had to come back for her. She cried again. She was playing in the street when a big man in blue clothes and a funny hat came to talk to her. He asked her if she was Rose, and she said yes. The big man said his name was Matt. She asked him if he knew where Camlin was. He said yes. Rose went with him, because he knew where Camlin was, and Camlin was all that mattered.

He took her out of the area where she lived, in a car, to a big building with lots of people wearing the same blue clothes in it. She clung to Matt’s hand, scared. Was this where Camlin was? She asked the man. No, he said, this is where I work. I have information about Camlin here.

His people watched as their sergeant brought the tiny, dirty girl into his office. They heard him speak kindly and gently to her, asking if she could show him what Camlin looked like. Camlin? They asked themselves. Oh, him. Poor girl, she doesn’t know. Poor child.

Matt was very nice, and he said Camlin had talked about Rose. You’ve met him? You know where he is? Rose got excited. I met him, said Matt, but I’m afraid you can’t see him. Why not? Rose wondered. Is it because he’s dead? Momma said that was like sleeping, except you never wake up. But Camlin isn’t dead, because he promised he would never leave me. So why can’t I see him?

Matt sat down in his whirly chair and pulled Rose onto his knees. He said, Rose, when you are dead, you go to another place. That’s where Camlin is. Your Camlin was shot by a bad man with a gun, and he died.

When I met him, he was dying. He told me a little about you. He said you were nice, and funny, and that you needed a friend. He said he was sorry to leave you. He told me to be your friend. Is that okay? Matt asked.

Rose was beginning to understand. Camlin had gone, but it wasn’t Camlin’s fault. She was sad, because Matt said he was not going to come back. Matt took her to see Camlin’s tombstone, where his body was. Rose finally understood.

She cried, because she missed Camlin, and Camlin was dead.