Requiem [COMPLETED]

The Turn of the Screw

[Sigrid's P.O.V.]

Ever since we'd returned Sven and grandpa had seemed to antagonize each other on occasion; they were too alike in some ways, not enough in others. As Sven got into high school though it started to seem like any little comment could send grandpa snarling and Sven snapping back or retreating in a wall of rageful silence; their conversations were becoming generally more cursory than politeness could make allowances for. Grandpa was abrasive with everyone but Sven always took it so personally. Grandpa always disagreed with him, sometimes I think out of habit, but each took a strange relishment in their confrontations. They assumed roles familiar and well-practiced for both, the order of the argument almost ritualistically repetitive sometimes. As Sven got older, at times their fighting seemed like mere child's play—except that childishness can appear sinister in adults—playacting with deeper motives behind it, subsuming what they really wanted to say in order to fit into the old roles that were well worn and comfortable. Both knew better.

The only person outside the family who was a somewhat regular visitor during these years was Chuck. His visits were also unofficial (secret) because otherwise grandpa would have told him to go home. His family's farm was only a couple miles away, so if grandpa wasn't in sight of the county road, Chuck would bike over and up the rough path that still led from the road to the overgrown homestead. I loved having Chuck around, even if I wasn't always allowed to play with them sometimes because they were having secret meetings. During these I had to sit across the yard, bored, or in the dilapidated old homestead. Maybe it's childish of me but I felt like they were always discussing things that would have interested me and I still resent the thought of being made to go away so they could talk.

Once grandpa caught him over there with us, when he and Sven were twelve. We had all been swimming in the pond and were lying in the sun waiting for our underwear to dry so we could put our other clothes on again, making daisy chains and talking about some book or other we'd all read. I can't remember what he said, but I vividly recall Sven and Chuck's shame, bowed heads, unable to make eye contact with grandpa. After that Chuck came over less often.

When they were fourteen the boys had their first-ever fight, at least that I was aware of. Chuck had found out that Sven was "going out" with Erika Johnson, a girl in his confirmation class. Of course going out merely meant that they held hands a lot, sat together for confirmation class and very occasionally shared a chaste kiss, usually when the other kids egged them on. For some reason this had wounded Charlie. He'd refused to talk to Sven for a whole couple of days and Sven had shied from him like a kicked dog. I overhead their eventual argument when they'd finally met at the old homestead to hash it out. Like usual they'd sent me away but I snuck back a minute later.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Charlie had asked, hurt. Sven hadn't answered at first. "Why did everyone know except me? I looked like an idiot. Am I not your best friend anymore? Is that why you didn't even tell me at all?"

"No! You know it's not that at all."

"Is it?" he'd persisted quietly.

"NO. You'll always be my best friend, I don't intend on getting another one. I tell you lots of stuff I don't tell other people. I just..." he sighed. "I didn't know how to tell you and I didn't want you to feel hurt."

"Well now I've found out another way and I am hurt. Why her? Now everything's changed."

"Why, what's wrong with her?"

"Nothing; I dunno," He deflected, abashed suddenly. "Do you like her a lot?"

"I guess so... I mean, I like her fine."

"Fine? You're dating some girl and it's just fine? Like okay? Like whatever?"

"I've gotta like somebody Charlie. Everyone likes somebody. Everybody dates and goes out with somebody."