Scarlet // Phan

Doodle

Everything this year reminded me of him.  The leaves on the trees, the birds that flew across the sky, the flowers that grew in my mothers garden.  Scarlet.  Everyone and anything I saw was him. Scarlet.

~~~

I remember seeing him for the first time.  He was small, weak, fragile.  Anything you wouldn't want in a friend.  Something drew me towards him, the outcast.  Why?  I have absolutely no idea.  Sure, he was my mothers best friend's son, I had to hang out with him.  He just compelled me to try and talk to him instead of faking being nice.  But, it didn't work.

My mother helped deliver Philip.  They thought he'd never live past three months.  The local carpenter even made him a coffin out of teakwood.  Everyone was ready for his funeral.  However, at three months he finally had a name because he had lived longer than any of us thought.  Philip Lester.  Has a nice ring to it, but that's a name that only sounds good on a tombstone.

I felt as if I was smart and great at most things in life.  I was the fasted runner in the family.  I could jump over big stones and rock in the creek.  I could climb trees and dash across the yard to catch bunnies.  I could do maths without help.

Philip, or Doodle, could not even walk.  Everyone knew him as 'Doodle'.  Such a silly name.  I don't know where that came to be, but mother just called him that once and Doodle's mother liked it, and it just stuck.  My mother said that Doodle will never be able to do those things in his life.  She said it with such a heavy heart. 

As much as he interested me, I never cared about him.  In fact after I learned more about him, I did fake being nice.  I had no one to play with.  I stayed with him for my boredom.  I felt ashamed calling him my friend. 

I once took him to see his own coffin to scare him.  Dragging him in a wagon.  I told him everyone thought he would die.  "No they didn't!  They didn't! You're lying!" he would scream this at me, not wanting to believe me.  Deep down, he knew.  He knew that no one believed in him then or now.  Except his mum of course. 

I placed him inside the coffin teasing him.  Taunting him.  I never actually tried to kill him.  I kind of liked him at first now, he annoys me.  He cannot walk.  No one would want to be friends with me if I acted like I cared.  I couldn't care.  I couldn't be friends with a crippled child.

"Danny!  Danny!  Let me out I don't belong here!  Help me out!" he cries.  I start walking away, smirking.  "Danny please!  I don't want to die!  Let me out! D-danny!" he chokes out.  I walk back over and lift him into the wagon.  "Don't leave me to die again, Danny."  I just sigh and turn to drag him back to his house.

A year later I was so extremely ashamed of having a 'friend' who couldn't walk.  School would start soon and he needed to learn to walk.  He needed to learn for me.

"Doodle, I reckon I should teach you to walk."

"Danny, I can't walk"

"Who says?"

"Mama, the doctors, your mother-"

"Oh! You'll walk soon, Doodle."

We went to the pond.  I stood him up and as expected he fell down right after I let go.  We did this for hours, everyday.  I wanted to give up because it felt like he wasn't even trying.

"Doodle, you must try."

"I am, Danny."

"It doesn't seem like you are.  Do you not want to walk?"

"I do want to walk, Danny."

One day after I stood him up for what felt like the millionth time; Doodle stood for about three seconds.