Ten & Levan

5. Five

LEVAN

The house is abuzz with silence.

The noisy quiet returns to my ears, replacing the music of freedom and outdoors with its caged-up cacophony. And just like that, I'm back to my reality, where I belong. The sun doesn't shine on this house, the sky doesn't shelter it, the wind doesn't help it breathe. The house is him, the house is Ava, the house is me and yet it doesn't feel like home.

I can't believe it was only about some thirty minutes ago that I was going through an awkwardly good time with Tenerife Cohen. I was smiling, hell, I might have just been laughing. I only felt most smiles on the inside, like small bursts of fireworks in my chest; they made my blood warm up, electricity flow through my veins, and tidal waves crash against my brain. There was no way I was going to let them out, I never have, but they escaped from within me so unexpectedly that I shocked myself.

It felt difficult, even alien to so much as want to smile. I think the last time was the day my mom taught me how to walk on a tightrope. I must have been five, and it was a bright sunny day, probably the sunniest day in history of sunny days and yet the sun wasn't harsh, it was forgiving and soft as it filtered through her pale hair, creating a halo around her face. She looked like an angel. I swear I always saw feathers peeking out from under her clothes. Sometimes, her feathers were bloodstained. I assumed it was because they grew out from her back; like grass from the ground, like hair from scalp. I also assumed it must hurt, but I wondered if one day I could have my own set of wings.

She was an adventure, a total and complete loon. In fact, she had the tightrope set up in our backyard complete with two ladders on each side and a trampoline under. She walked it with the stealth of a lioness but in actuality, she was walking on air, I knew. My mind was blown. She made me climb up the ladder, held me by the shoulder as I grabbed her waist, and she started walking backwards, making me follow her. Her pale blue eyes held my gaze, telling me that there was no way I could fall. Yet, out of fear, I grabbed the rope between my toes and cautiously took only a step at a time, in slow motion. When I looked around, it was as if I was treading air. Invisible air.

Several minutes later, when I reached the other end, I was ecstatic. I opened my arms wide, the feathers of my invisible wings swaying with the wind; I plunged onto the trampoline underneath us. I jumped, laughed, and doubled over. I turned into a total and complete loon, too. Just like mom. It felt like I'd found out my new superpower. I was going to tell all my friends about it, and ask them to call me Aeroboy. No more Levan, Levy, Lev, blah or blah. I was a superhero.

Now as I stare into the mirror, nothing stares back at me. Not even the organs, like they did a couple of days ago. They've faded too, just like my skin, my veins and bones. It's like I've become the invisible air. I can see through myself. I'm jaded, I'm faded, my mind is scattered and on the loose. It's taking over me, the shrieking silence; it's making my ears bleed, and the blood that comes out of me is black and dense and blurry, like the darkness that surrounds me. I cover my ears with my hands and crawl into a corner; I stay there hustled until the sun leaves for good. Then I crawl into bed and morph into a starless night.

***

It's nine when I'm finally reminded of Ava . Who am I kidding? She's always at the back of my mind, looming, but I chose to ignore taking an action. She hasn't come out of her room at all. There hasn't been a single sound in the house since I entered it. I toss my legs out of bed and walk out of my room, pull out a set of keys to her room from under the rug, and unlock the door. I peak in and find her sleeping with only a soft yellow lamp on. I walk closer to her bedside; it feels like alien territory, almost too strange, like I shouldn't be here. I find a couple of books scattered on her bed and conclude that she must've been reading to avoid getting bored. I pick up the empty wrappers of granola bars and throw them in the bin.