Part Two

Empty

For an entire week, Shane doesn't leave the house. He wakes to complete his chores, accepts the breakfast given to him by his granny, then retreats to his room. He can't let himself fall apart, not in front of his family. But in the quiet refuge of his room, he doesn't have to pretend.

He can't bear to go to work for the old man. He doesn't want to see the fields empty of Zach's smile. He doesn't want to step foot in the old woman's farmhouse and sit down at her table. And he doesn't want the questions that would inevitably come.

Where's Zach? Isn't Zach with you? You two have been joined at the hip; did he go back home? Why didn't he say goodbye?

Shane grunts at the thought and empties his mind once more. What he should be doing is finding a distraction, any distraction. But instead, he recalls the memories, only to push them back down. He wants to think of nothing, to feel nothing. If he can not think about Zach and not remember his face, not recall the feel of his skin and the sound of his voice then maybe, just maybe, he can make it through this next hour, too...

He would come back, right? He'll be home already; it's been almost a week. Will he come back to see me? He has to. He has to be feeling what I feel. Is he suffering like I am?

Eventually, he stops wondering if Zach will ever come back and instead begins to wonder if the boy was ever really there in the first place. Was it all in his mind? This irrational fear becomes all-consuming. Remembering the days before he left, he passes by the downstairs bathroom. He stops and pushes the door open, then recalls the moments spent there.

Reaching behind the medicine cabinet, he pulls out a cracked mirror. More ominous now than it was back then, he stares back at his own broken reflection.

"What was that?" Zach asks, head snapping around to find the source of the sound.

"Does it matter?" Shane pushes the boy's hips against the sink and pecks his lips again.

"Shane, the hand mirror!" he hisses. Disappointed, Shane backs up enough to look down at the floor where the mirror lay cracked from end to end.

"Boys," a voice calls from outside the door, "There's already been one injury today, haven't you learned your lesson? What is going on in there?" More forcefully, "Do you need supervision?"

Shane laughs through his nose, and the color leaves Zach's face before he bends down and snatches up the mirror. Shane pushes it into the boy's chest and turns his face toward the door.

"No…" he contends, obviously guilty. Together, they shove the cracked mirror behind the medicine cabinet, laughing as they hide the evidence of their crime.

He can almost hear the musical laughter of the boy before it slowly distorts in the air like a ghoulish entity mocking his reminiscent pain.

He carefully places the mirror back in its hiding spot and prepares himself to face Zach's room. He doesn't know what he expects to find in there; Zach took all of his belongings, leaving nothing but cleanliness behind. He pushes the door, and it creaks before stopping halfway open. The sunlight streams in through the window. This side of the house always did have the most sun. While Zach was here, it only seemed to amplify the effect. The rooms in this house were always brighter with him in them.

Shane sits on the carpet and rests his head on the bed. He remembers Zach writing in his notebook in this spot. He never did get to read much of what he wrote. He remembers hiding in this spot and being kissed in this spot.

A glint catches his eye, and he leans forward to find a small nail sticking out of the floorboard. Red smears stain the wood around it. After realizing what it is, Shane smiles. He really did bleed all over the place. They were so engrossed in their game, in each other, that they didn't notice. He touches the stain and runs his finger over the nail. Good. More proof that he was here.

The thought gives him the energy he hasn't felt in days. It drives him outside and toward the bridge.

He thought coming here would bring back painful memories for which he was now so desperate after pushing them down with such force. For days now, he thought he wanted to forget. But the only thing scarier than not being able to forget is not being able to remember.

What did his face look like as they stood here together that first day? He closes his eyes and reaches a hand out toward the blurred figure in his mind.

What did his voice sound like as he asked him why it was that he hadn't kissed him? A smile tugs at his lips, and for a moment his heart beats fast at the memory. Opening his eyes, he clutches at his shirt Yes! This is proof, isn't it? 'What else?' his brain demands.

He hops over the bridge and slides down the bank until he's knee-deep in the river. The rain seems to have disappeared along with the summer, and the bridge is just a bridge now with its patchwork bottom high above the flow of the river. He places a hand on the planks and recalls that first kiss.

He stares up at the sky. He lays in the sun. He walks across the stones, picking flowers and ripping tufts of long grass from the ground. He folds and shapes it, keeping his hands busy while clearing his mind.

"We used to make wishes all day long this way…" he says into the air, touching his lips as a reminder of the day he spoke those words.

He sends heart after heart, and star after star into the river, making the same wish over and over again in his mind.

Why had he never thought to ask Zach what he had wished for that day? Why hadn't he asked more questions, demanded more time?

He looks down to his fist wrapped tightly around his handful of creations, his unmade wishes. Finally, he forces his fingers open and lets those, too, drop silently into the river in a dense and final clump.

On the seventh day, Granny sits him down for a talk.

"Shane," she says, waiting for his eyes to meet hers. "My boy." His heart sinks one last time because he knows what must come next.

"Are you ready to stop moping about?" She says it with such caring eyes, how can he refuse her request?

"Yes, ma'am." For her, and for him, he rises and begins life once more.