Liam's World

They met on the beach.

The boy had been walking just out of reach of the waves, occasionally picking up a stone and skipping it across the water. Lawler remembered it so vividly that when he thought back on it he swore he could feel the salty windy filling his lungs and the sand that was clinging to his hands and feet.

He remembered watching the boy as he made his way down the stretch of sand. His mind wandered. Lawler invented stories as to why he was there all alone.

His parents went out on a boat one day, and they never came back. He comes back every day just to wait and see if he can make out the faint outline of them coming home to be family again.

Another rock skimmed across the dark waters.

He ran away, and went to his favorite spot. Right now he's thinking about his parents coming to find him, or if they're even looking.

The boy turned towards him when he was a few yards away. Lawler raised his hand in a half-hearted wave. That was the beginning.

They had spent the next few hours talking about nothing in particular. The waves, the weather, the beach, it all came up. It flowed smoothly, not unlike the waves that were gently washing away the sand as they ebbed out and back in. When the topic of themselves finally came up, his gaze shifted from the expanse of the ocean, to the innocent face of the strange boy.

“I'm Liam, and I am 5 years old. Now, you tell me your name.” It was demanding, not entirely unusual for a child, but it certainly seemed fitting.

“Lawler, and I am 17 years old.” Lawler let a small smile sneak across his face and let his gaze shift forward.

“Well... That's a weird name.” The statement was blunt, but he didn't feel like there was a bite behind it. His eyes drifted back to Liam, who was happily using the small fragments of seashells to make pictures in the sand.

“It is pretty strange isn't it...”

They met a few times a week. Lawler wondered about the days he couldn't make it to the beach. He would imagine what happened when he wasn't there. Did Liam continue playing? Maybe he talked to himself. He seemed the type to name things, give them personalities. There were times he could hear Liam muttering things to his shell pictures. He liked to imagine what he could be saying.

It wasn't a sick obsession that drew him back to the beach; back to Liam. It was loyalty. The relaxed feeling he had when the kid was busying himself with a tower of shells, held together by the damp sand, that kept him going to the same spot whenever he could spare the afternoon.

He doesn't remember when Liam started calling him brother. He remembers the feeling that he got when Liam would slip it into conversations where it wasn't needed. (“And I told him that me and my brother built that tower. He didn't believe it was up to my head!”) The acceptance was a nice feeling.

He remembers that he didn't talk. Not enough to make up a conversation, at least. It was him mostly listening. He nodded when appropriate. He would point when one side of their latest project would start to sag. Liam didn't seem to mind. If he did he would have said something, it was his way.

He remembers that Liam helped him create wonderful stories. He had taken to carrying around a journalist-style notebook to write down ideas inspired by the child's personality. They were mostly the leaders, the heroes. Liam was nothing less than a natural born leader. He demanded attention in such subtle ways it wasn't offensive. He made a near-adult get down in the sand in his school jeans to help with whatever idea he had come up with in class that day. Lawler didn't mind.

People didn't approve. They thought there was something off about someone so old spending time with someone so young. They didn't understand. How could they? He didn't let them know about the notebook, the observations. His mom gave him disapproving stares when he would enter the house with sand-soiled jeans. He shrugged them off.

Liam told him things. His parents were never home. His mother would take pills to help her sleep through the afternoon. His dad yelled when he came home and she was sleeping. He made his snacks all by himself when he got home. He spends most days at the beach, he would stay so long that sometimes when he got home he would have to sneak in through the window because his parents locked the door. Lawler remained silent. He came to the beach more often.

Lawler was depressed. He didn't have a reason. His parents weren't unkind. They were divorced, but that was better for him than if they had stayed together. He didn't like the yelling. He hadn't been sad when his dad had moved to a few towns over. His parents got along better that way. There was no ex-girlfriend that broke his heart. He had dated, but all the break ups were mutual. He didn't have many friends, but the ones he had were enough to make up for the lack of numbers. They didn't make fun of him like the others did for spending his days with Liam. Even through the outstanding lack of reason, he found his life wasn't what he wanted it to be. He didn't want to get out of bed in the morning. He dragged through the school day. Even his writing had dark undertones. Most didn't have endings.

He remembers the day that Liam made him better. They weren't working on anything at the time. They had just been letting the water tickle their toes. Liam was discussing in all seriousness a project they did at school with papermache and glitter. Lawler had just glanced down and saw the animated way he described the process. The happiness that glowed in his cheeks. It was innocence. It was life. He enjoyed the little thing again. New paper. Sharp pencils. Fine-tipped pens. His stories had endings. The hero triumphed. The land is free from sadness. Happily ever after.

He sat on the beach alone. The sky was dark with September clouds. The wind was biting. He gaze was locked on a sandcastle that stood just in front of him. It was half-complete. The sides were starting to crumble and the wind chipped away at the dry bits of sand. He had heard the news that morning. His mother had tsk'd and talked about how sad things were in the world. Lawler had thrown his plate at the wall.

The news report said the cause of death had been trauma. He had run out in front of a car late at night. His parents hadn't reported him missing. It was too tragic, even for Lawler's stories. Too dark to even consider. He hadn't cried. That would have made Liam poke fun, he would have made Lawler laugh.

The castle had stayed standing for days. It was huge. Liam must have worked on it for hours after he left. It was amazing the wind and the tide hadn't taken it all away by now. Lawler didn't touch it. He didn't want to mess it up. It was Liam's vision, and Liam had plans that no one would ever know now. He didn't want to change the original picture.

He doesn't remember when he stopped going to the beach. He doesn't remember when he stopped trying to leave at the same time he used to for months. He doesn't remember when he started laughing with friends again.

But he remembers Liam.

He writes one more story before he throws out the little notebook. Its not very long. He draws a cover. It's a sandcastle and shell fragments.
The shell's spell words.

Liam's World