Cold Shoulders

Let me go 2 years back in time…

I’ve taken the same road for thirteen years but it has never looked this sinister before. Merely out of habit I would jump off the car when I reach this place but this time I wasn’t even looking leftward, to where the ominous house stood. I can hold it for no more than two minutes before I jerk my head towards the window making a mental note to turn back in three seconds. What I found there leaves me star-stuck to this moment. I couldn’t take my eyes off the window. I couldn’t tear my eyes off that.

There, on the staircase leading to the house I twice went for sleepovers, were two faces that seemed slightly familiar. A boy around five years old and a girl who looked ten years older than the boy. They were throwing dried peas into their mouths, occasionally dropping one which rolled down the stairs. They were laughing about something and it didn’t take me very long to figure out what they were laughing about. They were pointing at me, at us. Half of my heart wanted to roll down down the window and scream at them: Tell them that they would eventually realise who was wrong, tell them what they did would not shake me… but fear, shock and disgust overcame me.

I was stuck in that moment: fingers like arrows pointing at my face. I could almost hear their hysterical laughter and sense their plans to drop me down again. I don’t know how long I was lost in thought but when I realised we had passed their  house I felt my brother’s hands grip on my shoulders. He slowly lifted his grey t-shirt and wiped the tears that were making their way down my cheeks, smiling innocently. He put his arm around me and held me tight as I cried onto his shoulder. He stroked my hair until I was ready to sit up but right then I figured out something I should have figured out much earlier. I realised what “a shoulder to cry on” really meant. All these years I’ve been crying on cold shoulders, like those of the five year old boy and the fifteen year old girl. The shoulder I had just cried on was real – one that radiated warmth… one which made me feel like everything was going to be alright.

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2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Sajith
    Jan 22, 2012 @ 06:04:43

    You have taken anecdotal writing to a whole new, metaphorically amazing level!

    Reply

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