𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓵𝓸𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓽

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 3

"The less I speak, the louder my heart screams"

-Lacie Shea

It was snowing outside.

It just struck noon and kids were playing in their yards. Without a worry in the world. No regrets, no goals, no fears.

Just kids playing in the snow. They had the one thing Arthur craved for, needed to get by. Hope.

It was hard to believe that he was once carefree. That everything was all well. He devoted his whole life to her. To be there through sickness and health. Everything revolved around her. Who was he? What was his favorite thing to do? Why'd he seek out to be a doctor? What made him, him? All questions he couldn't ask anybody but himself. And he didn't have the answers.

A cloud of depression, a deep sadness and melancholy, hung over the home. Nothing felt right. Then he remembered his mother. How he was seeing her today.

She didn't know how he felt, he always pondered why he never said anything. But why let her worry? He wouldn't let her carry his burdens. He'd have to face them alone. God sent him this obstacle and he could, had to, overcome it.

Oh.

Maybe he should tell her. Everything that was going on in his mind. How whenever he looked into the mirror, he hated what he saw. How he didn't like anything about himself. The fact that everybody could see through him.

'I can see through me.'

Nobody saw what he was. Sure, he was Arthur, but did they know him? Know him like she did? He saw himself every day.

He got out of bed and the blinding lights of the sun penetrated his vision. He squinted his eyes and carried on, getting out of bed after many hours of being curled in the labyrinth of pillows and blankets. He took his anxiety medication and got into the shower with millions of loose-ended thoughts.

He drowned them all in the cascading waterfall above his head.

Sadness, he realized, was like an ocean. Some days we'd drown and others we'd be forced to swim. It was his decision. And today he decided to swim.

He got out of the shower and put on the first hoodie he found. He walked over to Lily's abandoned vanity and looked through her stuff. He was looking for something, something specific.

He opened drawers he never had opened wondering where on earth that perfume went. He usually put on her perfume to feel a sense of her presence. To feel as if her arms were always holding onto him. Telling him everything was alright. Suddenly he came across a box. A sealed box. He frowned and tucked it back into the drawer and shoved it shut, acting as if he'd never seen the thing.

Of course, he did, however. And there was no pretending he didn't. Suddenly his alarm went off. He should be heading out. He walked over to the door and grabbed his coat off of the ground and looked at his desk which was overflowing with papers.

He'd get some things done today.

No really, he would.

Suddenly something caught his eye. The picture frame. He walked over to the picture and set it up so it was standing upright once again. He sighed.

God stood him up.

He shook his head and placed his three fingers on his lips and gently kissed it. Then, he placed his three fingers onto the picture of Lily.

"My beloved Lily." He smiled slightly.

Finally, he threw his coat over his shoulder and walked out.

______________________________________________________________________________

The door shook as his fist banged against it while knocking. The small snow chunks stuck on the door shook off from the force.

His mother opened the door in a red dress, and he could smell the light hints of liquor on her breath.

"Arthur, what are you doing here? You haven't visited for a while."  She side-stepped to let him in, which he gladly did. He was still shaking when he got in. "I was very sorry when I heard about Lily. I wasn't too surprised though."

Arthur visibly tensed and had a grim frown. "Don't talk of her that way, you have no right."

She put her hand on his back, guiding him to the couch and firmly put her hand onto his shoulder to make him sit. She sat in the open spot next to him. "Darling, you know I never thought well of her and it proves me right. I know this has taken such a nasty toll on you even if you'd never care to admit so. But I am your mother."

"A horrible one."

She sighed and clenched his forearm tightly. He winced in pain, gritting his teeth. "Arthur, I know you're not here to argue."

He made the space between him and his mother wider and huffed. "You're right. About it having a huge impact on me. I've been unhappy for a year now."  He admitted begrudgingly.

"I told you so."

He glared at his mother. A look that could pierce through a soul.

"Alright, that mustn't be it." She muttered.

He looked at the ground, debating what to tell his mother. There were so many things happening in his life yet so little. Even fewer things he'd care for this woman to know.

"I met a lovely lady at this florist shop."

Her eyes lit up and she leaned in closer. "Did you get her number?"

"No," he told her upfront. It was technically the truth after all.

"Well, maybe I'd know her." She said practically jumping in her seat, "spit it out."

"Her name was Autumn." He said not as excited. Her eyes widened as she practically shook with joy. "As in, Autumn who talks a lot. Who likes the fall?"

His eyebrows scrunched up and he slowly nodded. A squeal came out of his mother's mouth and she hugged him tight.

"What on earth-?"

"She's in my book club Arthur! Beautiful soul that one." Suddenly the doorbell went off. "Oh, that must be George."

"Who?" Arthur was completely lost. His mother dragged him and took him out back by the backyard and threw him out.

"Arthur if you truly want to know more about her I suggest you come to our club meeting on Friday at my house. Now you must go, George doesn't know I have a son." 

And with that, she shut the door in his face.