Postcards From No Man's Land
Prologue
The first time I saw you, I discovered that I could breathe.
I discovered that there was blood in my veins because I could almost see the blood running through your electric-blue veins, and our blood had to be the same. I had ears because I heard your soft whimpers and the almost inaudible ticking of your little heart beneath your bones. They weren't even formed all the way yet, just spongy cartilage that would continue developing into bones. I had eyes because I saw your milky-white skin and your peaceful hazel irises. You knew right away who I was, and you smiled even though you had no teeth, only pale pink gums that reminded me of cotton candy. I had an imagination, I knew because those eyes reminded me of molten gold.
I discovered that I had a heart in my chest because I felt something that day I first saw you. I felt something that felt like the start of something else. I discovered that I automatically loved you. It was simply programmed into the wires inside of my head.
I discovered I loved you because you were my brother.
That first day that they brought you to me, I refused to hold you. I did. When Mom told that story years later at Christmas and Thanksgiving and to all of her friends at her New Years parties, everyone always laughed and claimed how cute "little Gee" had been. But not you. You never said how cute, and you never laughed. You just sat there, quiet as a mouse because that's just how you are. And then later, later you would come to my room and you would sit so quiet and still on the edge of my bed. Why wouldn't you hold me, Gee?, you would ask in your voice that was so small. You would push your coke-bottle glasses up the bridge of your nose, they were always falling off. I always told you it was because you made too much noise when you cried, and you were always crying. It was always supposed to be a joke, but your grin was always so half-hearted. I think we both knew that I was just trying to cover up. We weren't brave enough to say what.
The truth, the truth that I never ever told you, was that I'd been afraid of you when I was three and you were just barely born. You were so tiny in someone else's arms. Your skin looked so fragile, as thin as butterfly wings. How would you fly if I accidentally ripped your wings? To hear you cry would break my heart like I could have easily broken yours, and your heart was so small. Just the size of your tiny fist, clenched around one of my fingers. That first day that I refused to hold you, I only refused because I was frightened that I wasn't strong enough to hold you up. Then you would crash-tumble to the floor, and you would break. How could I break someone I already loved so much? You weren't my toy. And I wasn't strong enough to be your brother.
Now that I lay here in this shallow bed of water that is slowly freezing my bones, I want you to know that I always regretted not holding you on that first day that they brought you to me. Now as I lay here, I am aware of everything. I am aware of your heart ticking a crash-pounding beat inside of your chest, and the shallow breaths that swell your thin ribcage. I am aware of your tears, oh how painfully aware I am of your tears. I think I always felt them more than you ever did. Being so close was just that dangerous.
I want to scream out to you, but I no longer have the ability to open my mouth. Can you hear me screaming, Mikey?
I don't think you ever could.
I discovered that there was blood in my veins because I could almost see the blood running through your electric-blue veins, and our blood had to be the same. I had ears because I heard your soft whimpers and the almost inaudible ticking of your little heart beneath your bones. They weren't even formed all the way yet, just spongy cartilage that would continue developing into bones. I had eyes because I saw your milky-white skin and your peaceful hazel irises. You knew right away who I was, and you smiled even though you had no teeth, only pale pink gums that reminded me of cotton candy. I had an imagination, I knew because those eyes reminded me of molten gold.
I discovered that I had a heart in my chest because I felt something that day I first saw you. I felt something that felt like the start of something else. I discovered that I automatically loved you. It was simply programmed into the wires inside of my head.
I discovered I loved you because you were my brother.
That first day that they brought you to me, I refused to hold you. I did. When Mom told that story years later at Christmas and Thanksgiving and to all of her friends at her New Years parties, everyone always laughed and claimed how cute "little Gee" had been. But not you. You never said how cute, and you never laughed. You just sat there, quiet as a mouse because that's just how you are. And then later, later you would come to my room and you would sit so quiet and still on the edge of my bed. Why wouldn't you hold me, Gee?, you would ask in your voice that was so small. You would push your coke-bottle glasses up the bridge of your nose, they were always falling off. I always told you it was because you made too much noise when you cried, and you were always crying. It was always supposed to be a joke, but your grin was always so half-hearted. I think we both knew that I was just trying to cover up. We weren't brave enough to say what.
The truth, the truth that I never ever told you, was that I'd been afraid of you when I was three and you were just barely born. You were so tiny in someone else's arms. Your skin looked so fragile, as thin as butterfly wings. How would you fly if I accidentally ripped your wings? To hear you cry would break my heart like I could have easily broken yours, and your heart was so small. Just the size of your tiny fist, clenched around one of my fingers. That first day that I refused to hold you, I only refused because I was frightened that I wasn't strong enough to hold you up. Then you would crash-tumble to the floor, and you would break. How could I break someone I already loved so much? You weren't my toy. And I wasn't strong enough to be your brother.
Now that I lay here in this shallow bed of water that is slowly freezing my bones, I want you to know that I always regretted not holding you on that first day that they brought you to me. Now as I lay here, I am aware of everything. I am aware of your heart ticking a crash-pounding beat inside of your chest, and the shallow breaths that swell your thin ribcage. I am aware of your tears, oh how painfully aware I am of your tears. I think I always felt them more than you ever did. Being so close was just that dangerous.
I want to scream out to you, but I no longer have the ability to open my mouth. Can you hear me screaming, Mikey?
I don't think you ever could.