uncertainty (pete o'hanlon)

the mysterious boy in the park

I walked slowly out the sliding back door of Mason's house, his last few words ringing in my ears on repeat, "It's for the best." I couldn't figure out the tone of his voice, it was monotone, yet sunken. I couldn't tell if this was as hard for him as it was for me. My heart was aching but tears wouldn't fall from my eyes. All I wanted to do was scream and cry and yell. But I felt nothing, and somehow, everything at once. 

The alley behind his house was the same as always and it felt wrong. The same loud dog barking at the slick black cat perched on the fence opposite to it. The same junky car with peeling, faded, red paint to the left and the same old rotting brown couch featuring large tears across the front to the right that the trash men for some reason refused to pick up. All the little things that seemingly meant nothing that I had become so accustomed to seeing on my usual journey home from Mason's now signified that the world would continue to be the same whereas Mason and I would never be the same again. 

As I approached the end of the dark, mucky alleyway the street lights from the neighborhood park illuminated to show a figure swinging back forth slowly. I pulled a pack of cigarettes out of my purse then continued the dig for my lighter. I ended up pulling out two: one pictured wild daisies while the other depicted Mason's favorite liquor store logo. After dropping mine back into my bag and lit my cigarette with the liquor store lighter before dropping it in a puddle, the light from the park reflecting across it. I made it exactly seven slow and shaky steps away before turning around and retrieving it from the murky puddle. I dried it with my jacket and grasped it tightly in my left hand. 

I soon found myself approaching the figure at the swing set. I wasn't sure it was the urge to talk to someone or simple curiosity as to was at the neighborhood park at 1:34 am. 

"Are you alright?" The boy asked with a thick Irish accent as he watched me make my closer to him and the swing set. As I sat in the swing next to him I could barely make out the green in his eyes in the moonlight.

Removing the cigarette from my mouth, I asked, "Why do you ask?"

"Your eyes are crying, but your face..." he trailed off, struggling to find the correct word to describe my face and then proceeded to look down at the worn journal in his lap. I placed my right hand on my cheek and felt the tears that were soaking my freckles, not even realizing I had been crying. "Its enigmatic." He finished his sentence then looked back at me. His eyes seemingly brighter than before.

His eyes diverted back to his notebook and he continued to scribble words across its aged pages. I took the chance to take in his appearance: sandy brown hair lay intricately tangled atop his head full of thoughts which I assumed he was writing down at this very moment, golden green eyes intently staring at the words as his hands moved quickly from right to left, his cheeks were freckled and red, lips blue from the cold, nothing to keep him warm but a brown leather jacket over a button up shirt. 

"Do you come here often at this time?" I asked curiously.

He continued writing for a moment before looking up in the direction of the city, "I just moved into a flat in London," he pointed towards the large buildings in the distance, "I took a walk and ended up at a park in the suburbs I guess." His gaze returned to me, a slight smirk danced on his lips, "And what about you?"

"Well I live over here," I replied and pointed in the direction opposite the colorful lights of the city, "I was just..." I questioned whether or not I should tell an utter stranger of tonight's events, then remembered that I have nothing to hide from the strange Irish boy sitting on a swing in a neighborhood he didn't live in that I've never met. "My boyfriend, he just broke up with me." I said honestly. 

It felt as though a ten ton weight had been lifted off my chest and my breathing become faster and bigger. I suddenly became aware of the tears streaming out of my eyes and I smiled eerily towards the ground, watching tears land rhythmically on my muddy sneakers. "What the fuck." I muttered softly, then looked up at the mysterious boy in the park with a quizzical look on his face, "What the fuck!" I shouted as loudly as I could bear to then gasped for air. I began crying in hysterics. Hysterical was the only way I could describe it, these feeling in my heart, it was hysterical. The irony of Mason's "Forever and always," echoed throughout every crevasse in my mind.

After calming down from my crazed bundle of crying, laughing, and sobbing all at once I crushed my cigarette into the wood chips below the swings that were still soaked from the rain. "Sorry about that," I said softly, not knowing what else to say.

The boy stood up and stepped in front of me, holding out his hand, "My name's Pete."

"Alice," I replied as I took his hand in mine.