You Are The Moon

"Honey, please put that journal down and eat something."

I looked up at my mother as she set a plate of pancakes in front of me. I offered her a weak smile, and for her sake closed Frank's journal. I suppose it was for my sake too because I'd only read one entry and my heart felt like it was going to throw up. Given, I'd read it about ten times.

"How long are you going to be staying here, by the way?"

I thought about making a snarky remark like "What are you anxious to get rid of me?" but that would've been in bad taste considering the circumstances. Me being sarcastic isn't what I or her or anybody else needs right now.

"I don't know, mom, I just need to be here right now. I've got some thinking to do before I head back home."

She nodded, "I understand, take as much time as you need."

Her tone sounded like she was going to add something else, but the exchange of words ended there. She knew how much we had loved each other. She'd see Frank sometimes at the store or walking his dogs. He always asked her about me. I think at one point she even gave him my number. He never called, my guess is that he didn't want to interfere with my life, impose on my family. Maybe he thought it would upset my wife. I don't think Lindsey would've minded, she wasn't the problem. The problem is that I wouldn't have known what to say to him.

As I forced myself to eat a food I usually loved, I thought about sixteen year old Frank's words in my mind, having nearly memorized them from the page. Strangely enough, I remember that specific walk, even if there were many others just like it. I dwelled on his comments about sadness, about darkness. He seemed to know it lived within me then, long before he got caught up in my darkness himself.

I don't know how he looked at me and saw anything but the chubby, awkward artist I was then. He saw something in me that I didn't find until I was older and learned how to remove the stain of darkness from my soul.

I took the last bite of the pancake, stood, and put the plate in the sink. "I'm going for a walk," I told my mother. I grabbed the journal, pulled on my jacket and headed out into an Autumn day much like the one Frank had written of all those years ago.

I hadn't been home in years. My visits were few and far between, and when I did come home my stay was brief. I'd spend the whole time scared that I'd run into Frank. Another part of me always hoped that I would see him, that it'd be like one of those stupid romance movies where despite all odds the lovers end up together in the end.

My feet took me down the path by the river and into the adjacent woods. Some trees were nearly bare and others had barely begun to change colour. Beyond the woods was the cemetery, and that fact slipped my mind before I emerged from the path to find myself surrounded by the dead. I could make out Frank's grave from where I stood, the fresh dirt like a beacon.

Notes

I apologize for how short these chapters are, but sometimes I just write something and it feels right to end it there. I'm trying to update this story frequently because of how short the chapters are ending up, but I apologize in advance if there's several days, or even a week, in between.