Weightless

27) Reasons To Stay

(Same day) 2nd of July 2017

It's the same park they used to go to every weekend. Ethan remembers clearly. He remembers feeling lucky to live where he did, in a smart end terrace. The path along the main road leads right to fields, parks and tiny shops with little old ladies buying newspapers in it. As soon as Cal and Ethan could both be trusted to cycle there alone, they would go as often as they could.

Years later, they are walking here together. Memories are in every part of this place. Decades have passed since Ethan was been small enough to squeeze through the metal fencing, but some of the old equipment is still firmly planted into the black tarmac. It's as he remembers. Reminiscent of childhood.

The swings - him and Cal would go as high as they could, then jump off. The slide - as soon as Ethan was old enough to walk, he'd climb up the slide and get stuck at the top. Every time. Cal would either coax him down the steps or help him down the slide, laughing good-naturedly as Ethan would squeal. The roundabout - they'd spin on it until they felt sick. Or until one of them actually flew off, that happened once; Cal, of course, but he bounced back uninjured. The climbing frame with the little house on top of it - their old favourite. Ethan would sit and read whilst Cal hung on the monkey bars, then swing up to chat. They'd lose track of time.

Their mum would wander down the path, outside of the fence, wrapping her arms around her body. The same woollen cardigan protecting her from cold, the one she'd owned for years that was matted with age. She'd shout them home for bedtime. It usually got late. In summer, they wouldn't even know so much time had passed. In winter, they'd have to rush home in the dark.

Presently, Cal nudges Ethan in the ribs. It's lightly, but it still manages to hurt. It certainly gets his attention, anyway. Ethan shifts on the bench they are now sitting on.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Us," Ethan says simply. "What are you thinking about?"

"You."

Ethan doesn't look at Cal. His eyes keep focused on the bordered park. There are no children playing on it. Just long blades of grass being ruffled by wind and swings being rocked by nothing.

"Tell me what you meant earlier. Convince you to stay?"

His stomach pitches. "I meant just that."

Ethan virtually just told Cal that he's contemplating death - and Cal is, outwardly, unphased.

"Because you've got so much more living left to do," he states soberly.

"I'm done, Cal."

"You've barely started."

Ethan quits listening and watches the climbing frame ahead of them. Rusted with age; sturdy and firm. "You pushed me off that climbing frame," he recalls quietly. Like it's relevant. It isn't.

"And you cried like a baby."

"It hurt, that's why."

"I reckon it did," Cal sidles closer to Ethan. "But you still got back up again, didn't you?"

Ethan shrugs. "It hurt but it wasn't going to kill me. 'Course I got back up." Cal makes a little hmmfh noise, as though he's made a point. Ethan supposes he can see similarities from then to now. Bouncing back despite everything. But skinned knees and a big bruise is different to... this.

I do this a lot, Ethan realises as he imagines their past selves, cartwheeling on the tarmac, laughing like maniacs. I keep thinking about the past. It's like he can't quite step out of it. His deceased parent and the one who walked out of their red painted door, they're always in the back of his mind. Their characteristics, their beliefs. Ethan is stuck with one foot in the past, the other in the present, and he can't quite move forward.