Myop Hill (NCS No We Can)

Part 1- Outside

"I want a piercing." My statement was surely the only thing to be carried upon the stale August winds, so I examined my nail beds with sheepish intent.

By way of keeping the conversation light and casual, of course.

Not because I was afraid that my words had ruined the entire atmosphere.

The window seat at Ma's hilltop bungalow, was most definitely its best asset. It had exactly zero others, except possibly the hose out back when the days were blistering.
The seat was fashioned out of comfortable cloth and velvet, and was positioned by a moderately sized window at the side of the house. From here, you could see the planes of possibility and open field; possibly even the dustiness of The City, if you looked hard enough.

My brother Oliver and I, spent many long Saturday afternoons upon that ledge, our ears aching for the weight of a birdsong. But it was always better to scan the horizon for the figures of Ma and our small sister Inanna, stumbling back from the market, both laden with groceries.

My knees were drawn up to my chin as I chewed my lip expectantly, my tongue burning for some good conversation.

"I want a piercing in my helix," I repeated, matter-of-factly, glancing up at Oliver now. We shared the same star struck eyes, and the same set jaws. Firm lips lined with rigidity were Ma's gift to us. Our hair was the only difference, since I dyed mine often.

Black coils of hair flopped lazily over Oliver's face as he folded his gangly arms an a distinct manner. Listening; doubtless, he had no idea what a helix was, let alone why I would want a piercing there. His features held a secret fascination which an older sibling is meant to quash as soon as they gain that status. Oliver had not yet learned how to conquer his secret admiration of my worldly knowledge, and so instead, pretended to be uninterested.

A casual scan of his sprawled body told me all. My brother had always been a slight rebel, with his black-stained nails and chipped front tooth. The tooth had been courtesy of a late-night brawl.

I spoke up again, sick of silence. "For my tinnitus, Ollie. The doctor says-"

A slight movement. His foot twitched irritably. Leaning over to unlatch the window, a glint from his collarbone; ah. There was the cross necklace, after all. Carefully, he felt around for the latch, triumphantly flicking it when he had found it.

A rush of sweet, decaying air danced through the window panes and illuminated our skin momentarily.

"That's a myth, Percy. Thought you were smarter than to believe myths? And besides,"- Leaning back, he resumed his prior position- "I thought you were sticking with lobes, that's it? You know Ma hasn't got the money to take you to a decent place." Of course he knew what a helix was; Oliver was smarter and better than I was in every conceivable way.

He was right, of course; since my father's unexpected death last June, we had all had to suffer. Ma's devastation had left Oliver and I stranded; and with a new sibling on the way, we could hardly afford the luxuries of music lessons, football coaching, or- goodness forbid- piercings.

The blistering heat of the summer was to be borne with cheap plastic sandals and melting ice cubes shoved down our shirts, the continuation of college out of the question for Oliver, and my music books had been abruptly packed up for Goodwill.

Goodwill. What is good will? Wishing someone well? Wishing you could get a stupid piercing? Wishing your partially blind brother could properly see the outside beauty he so adored?

You couldn't tell by the defiant set of his jaw, or the vacant quiver of his nose as he sat still on the ledge, spindly feet just touching mine, but Oliver was, in fact, visually impaired, and had been since the tender age of 16. He wouldn't let anyone know it, if that were possible, but in some cases, it was totally unavoidable.

After Pa's death, Ma removed him from his special college- the special one- and Ollie Hassan refused to step foot outside since. These Saturday afternoons were really all I got of him, since my schooling took place in The City, some miles away from the tiny bungalow.

"Percy?" The nickname was one which I hated with all imaginable vigour, but I liked it better than my full name- Persephone- in any case.

"Yes, Ollie?"

"Describe outside? Please? Can feel the sun- no birds, though. Right?" I watched him catch his cracked lip between his teeth, and my heart jolted miserably. Oliver had always been excellent with nature, especially after he had started to lose his vision- he knew gull from heron and bluetit from robin at the slight rustle of a leaf. I believe he found his solace within the winged creatures.

"Well, Ollie, there's a cleanish sky. Clouds: fluffy, with a dash of coarse pink, and red... no, purple, is it? Purple-ish tints, too. Trees: Absolutely gushing with leaves and fruit and every good thing." Watching as my brother's chest relaxed fervently, I smiled to myself.

The day was a hot, dry, August day, and the sky was barely decorated with a blue hue. A lone, wispy, white cloud wandered across it slowly. The trees were bursting with yellowish leaves, and watery, slim fruits; the fervour of the skies was entirely a work of fiction.

Oliver smiled, resting a hand underneath his chin to cradle his head. "You're lying, Percy. I know you are. It's hot and dry; most likely, there's a tepid sky and an abundance of terribly ill-looking leaves. No birds, but a lone song from the beetles." He cracked a large grin, before his face settled back into melancholy; I sighed. I wished for him to be better. I wished for his sight.

Then, a stroke of utter brilliance; if I could just get him outdoors, possibly his joy would return.

Oliver could laugh again.