Infinity Is Beyond Us

40- Theon

Theon's heart had found its old home, and the old home was anywhere but in line with his head and gut.

It was stuck in the past; in dark nights and meek mornings, in tugging on sleeves to hide scars and splashing cold water on puffy eyes. It lay on cold floors in empty, soulless rooms with white-washed walls and waited to be saved.

His head hurt the moment his eyes opened and he was faced with the world map looming over him on the ceiling. Ireland and the Netherlands still remained the only countries marked on there, and although he hadn't travelled anywhere new since he'd last studied the map, his soul had visited more places than he could count.

The house was silent when he opened his bedroom door and trudged to the kitchen for coffee. Sunlight reflected off the glass mugs arranged on a tray to dry. He picked one up and poured coffee in it before he sat down at the table.

Theon didn't even look at his phone, he was too lost in his thoughts to look at anything but the wall.

He'd officially finished school a few days ago. He would never have to turn up at the place for a full day of lessons ever again. And God, he'd dreamed of this day for years and now that it'd come... it was bittersweet.

The anniversary of his father's death was less than a month away and it made past five years flash before his eyes. He'd been a boy back then; a thin, tall boy with tendencies to lie and hide behind cameras. Now he was a man with out-grown angst and the same old habits. He'd cried, cut, had the hope seep out of him but he'd also laughed and had euphoria spread through him and bring his spark back.

And it was all over now. For good.

Theon missed it. He didn't miss the depressing and despaired days; he missed the times something had made him happy during those days.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a folded piece of paper clipped to the fridge with his name on it. He slid it out from the magnet holding it in place and read the yellow sticky note on top of it.

Theon.

I was clearing out the attic last night and found this letter your grandad wrote you a few days before he died. I thought you might like to read it again.

Remember to pick up Heidi and Oliver from school!

Love,

Mum.

Theon unfolded the piece of paper and read it.

Dear Theon,

We both know the end is coming. You're sitting by my bed with your eyes closed and I hope you're sleeping because it looks like you haven't had much of it in recent weeks.

As dramatic as it is, I've accepted my fate. I'm going to die soon. And even though I've been forgetting things recently, I know what you'll do and I'll never forgive myself if I don't write this.

One of my remaining memories is reading Alice in Wonderland to you, Oliver and Heidi when you were eight. You despised the book, but the one redeeming quality you found was a little passage about how forever might only last for a second.

You've always had a knack for infinities and forevers; about the relationship between humans, the earth and everything in between. All you've ever wanted is answers; how something would've reacted if you did something, why things are the way they are- your curiosity is like wildfire and it will do you good for the science career you wish for.

But as we sit in this hospital room and you sleep in the chair next to me, I can see the one answer you won't get in a long, long while. And that's what to do with the infinity that you have. As old and mature as you seem, it doesn't come easy and it can't be taught to you. Different people have different infinities.