Glimpse

Kayleigh Miller

A small boy ascended the oaky stairwell, his steps puttering and sounding off, echoing off the steps and deep into to the vast rooms below. That grand staircase centered the home, grounding it to the earth, and sunlight brushed the harsh edges worn by time. Those stairs had seen far too many lifetimes for any one man to entertain the idea of counting them. Curtains swept the marbled floors that periodically came into view, and the giggles of a young girl faintly came from above as she looked down to be sure he followed close behind. The jolly pair transcended the limitless space of the lounge, further up and further in.

Amber’s Aunt had a hearty determination to spend the summer fixing up the small house that she so lovingly referred to as “homestead.”The lanky brick building was encroached upon by bushels of foliage from the surrounding forest, a place Amber had always been only a little frightened of, as most children would surely be at that age. Thank god for the boy next door, always her shadow, watching the way she bounded about, hanging onto her every word.

They reached their destination with haste, stopping to recover from their hike to the very top of their childhood eden. Their fingers brushed only slightly as both reached for balance, propping themselves on the railing. They did not welcome the brush because of romance or intrigue or any of that silly adult stuff just yet, but rather because their trembling was not meant to be endured alone. The two shakily breathed as they stood in the mouth of a large mahogany doorway, ornately embellished with metal leaves. The young onlookers could have sworn that they billowed in the breeze that swept in from the open window beside them.

Amber managed to whisper beneath her breath, “It’s probably just a bunch of junk ya know… or I bet the pirates hid some treasure in chests up there before Aunt Molly could see it.”

Colin added “Or there’s a skeleton, a secret locked away for generations!” He peered at her only to be met with confusion and wonder swimming in the eyes of the girl that he considered to be his best friend.

But really, truly, she was his only friend.

Sharply, without the bat of an eyelash, Amber snapped from her focus on the daunting doorway and met his eyes with a hesitant gaze, managing to twitch the corners of her previously forlorn mouth into a smile.

“Well come on then, we can’t just take her word for it.” she mumbled with a laugh, punctuating her rash proclamation.

Hands intertwined in both support and fearfulness, Colin stepped hesitantly into the light streaming in from the large paned windows. He grasped and pushed in the handle of the door and in the blink of an eye, the pair thrust themselves through the doorway. Immediately thick clouds of dust billowed into the air that surrounded them, coughs erupting as their lungs rasped out for air.

When their eyes adjusted to the now brightened labyrinth, an eruption of wonder surged within them.

Boxes kissed the wood paneled ceiling piled high with delicate picture frames, decaying dresses, and oddities from ages long forgotten. A marble chess set sat propped against a bulky metal chest in the middle of the large space. But the true prize of the mysterious attic was the colossal collection of books that lay stacked in handsome towers. Titles the two children had never even seen were strewn about shelves, just begging to be held, spines to be cracked.

For hours the two friends became immersed in a world of imagination, exploring all that the attic space had to offer. Specks of sunlight glittered about the room, lighting the path for their quests of heroism and adventure.

After what seemed like an eternity of play, the two plopped furiously to the floor, exhausted by the fun they had grasped in what seemed like mere minutes.

“I…can read to you.. If you’d like?” Amber managed to sputter out, words jumbled and strung closely. Her curls bounced furiously as she spoke. Colin only nodded his head swiftly in response, because truly

He wanted nothing more. And he would never want anything more.

______

Twenty years is an agonizingly long time. Well, perhaps not in the grand scheme of lifetimes and generations long forgotten, but rather long considering Colin had grown a beard and began to use large words like “Baroque” and “Accolade.” The world felt far more grey as a grown up. Long gone were the days of glory and wonder, gone with the girl he once called friend.

With every breaking dawn another day of routine, the days of scattered books and slits of sunlight somehow became lost in translation, distant but ever present in the depths of his mind.

One thing that Colin could boast of himself was that he was in fact, no fool.

He had graduated top of his class and garnered some of the most absurd trivia a man could offer to society. He had ascertained a well paying job, and had managed to live what he considered to be a comfortable life. He was fulfilling the traditional expectations of success. Nothing to write home about, but he was surviving. Hating life, but surviving.

His mind-numbingly boring girlfriend of 8 years positively deplored his fun facts. She rolled her eyes and forced jabs at his lack of tact while sipping wine with other mind-numbingly boring couples who opted to discuss weather and politics and whatever else was socially acceptable that day.

The two had met in college at some party, bonding over the drinks they guzzled from red cups. It’s funny how time can be so fickle. They both were in need of comforting, and settling just came so easy for them both. They had a blissful honeymoon stage and then proceeded to slip into a lack of care or formality. Well that is to say that Colin didn’t care much about anything, and his girlfriend no longer felt the need for a facade of “formality” in private. Her grievances knew no limit, particularly when it came to her hapless partner. Tonight it was the shoes he had chosen. Perhaps tomorrow it would be the way he said good morning, slightly different, and the next day maybe the dish he leaves in the sink unaddressed.

He counted the red cars on his way to work each morning. Gliding the interstate one town over only to pull into the small parking lot surrounded by shrubs and the occasional tree. He did this everyday, counting cars, purchasing the same bag of chips from the vending machine, and doing it all again the next day. He had counted only 9 red cars on the roads today, winding and turning the bend. He considered switching his afternoon snack, but thought perhaps it was too much a risk.

This evening the couple was crammed into a room with what seemed like hundreds of bodies determined to prove themselves to the world by flashing a smile and “Thank you johnny, you must tell the chef this dish is divine.” Yes of course, the food was well enough, yet Colin continued to pick at his pork medallions with the tip of his fork.

“Honey you have to hear about Donald’s deal at work, he practically forced them to sign!” His girlfriend beamed at the couple across the table, admiring their accomplishments but even more so the heavy diamond necklace that sparkled in waves around the other woman’s neck.

Crystal and Donald had it made, accept of course, Colin knew that Donald’s company was a front for money laundering and he happened to be fucking his intern. But the couple flashed toothy grins, nestling and crooning close on display for the world. Restaurant goers opting for tight lipped smiles in approval, surmising the two were very much enamored and certainly content. A woman at the table next to them crossed her sharp ankles exactly like Crystal, observing it subtly and adjusting her approach to match.

Colin surveyed the room, choosing to snap himself from the daze he had found to be a temporary escape. The smallest of bolts loose on the vent adjacent from their table, jiggling slightly as waiters paced past and into the kitchen. A penny on the dining room floor, face up. The dim twinkle of headlights outside the bustling restaurant. His gaze drifted slowly to the gaping window and the people hastening past it’s large panes, their shoes clinking on cement of a sidewalk neglected and cracked. A young couple wrapped in coats, he managed for a fraction of a moment to catch a glimpse of a woman’s curly locks. That’s all it took to remind him of what seemed a lifetime ago.

Amber and Colin sat outside the school gym, her head laying softly on his shoulder, curls gracing his throat just slightly. She sniffled and sobbed quietly into him. He didn’t have words, just stared at her red shoes nervously tapping and only inches from his own.

“Colin dear? Crystal was just telling us about the magnificent time they had in Barcelona” she raised her brow at his clear disillusion, snapping him right back into focus.

“Oh…Barcelona must be lovely this time of year” he quipped back with a polite but exhaustive smile. He was trying. He glanced at her for her approval, did that help? Did he say the right thing?

His girlfriend reached over and gently rested her hand on his, looking to all a proud lover, displaying affection for the man she had chosen. They both had chosen this.

The scraping of the edge of his fork against the crisp ceramic plate seemed unnatural in a room filled with light jazz and muted discussions between the up and up of the world. It was his rebellion.

She gave him a look. Ah fuck what did that look mean again?

She, of course, had many looks. One to tell him he needed to stop talking, one to tell him his clothes weren’t quite right, and one to say “I truly don’t care what you think, we are doing what I want.”

This look seemed to be a combination of the three. Guess that means no more fork scraping. His little rebellion crushed with a look of distaste from the woman who always occupied his air.

As they drove home from the swanky bar she had chosen for their latest performance of dedication and dutifulness, the two sat in silence for a while, resigned to drinking in the moment, simply because it was there.

“Crystal said this is the best time to look to sell, the housing market is only going up and we will have so many more options outside the city” her words tumbled like raindrops spilling over gutters, quick and relentless.

Colin sighed, focusing his vision on the small rocks embedded into the freeway. They were pummeled into the asphalt, embedded in the cement and sinking further down with every tire pressing and forcing them to descend.

“I like the city.”

“Yeah well I don’t. You’ve never asked me how I felt huh? The traffic is God awful and you never leave the apartment. You just hole up in that studio and you’ll probably work there until you die.”

Colin’s vision swept to the tallest building he could pick out from the horizon line. Intrusive thoughts protruding through. His work was all he had. No legacy yet, no family ties to lean back on. For all they knew he was successful in his relationships both romantic and socially. It was too late to seek other options. He was too far in.

“I couldn’t just up and leave the studio, I’m on the brink of something great.”

Silence permeated the air as his girlfriend sucked in a sharp breath.

“You’ve been on the brink for 10 years Colin. Mediocre just isn’t cutting it anymore”

They had tried to fix what would always remain broken. Something had snapped within her when Colin lost the will to live, and she had never found it in her heart to forgive him for the demons that plagued him. Those very same demons that invaded every moment of every day, rubbing salt in the wounds of the past by allowing him to remember what it was like to feel so deeply.

“ I can’t do this anymore”

Colin braced himself but immediately his mind whirred.

One. Their life together was filled with joy and wonder.

Two. He held her hand at the birth of their first child.

Three. They two had built a home, a life in the city amongst the skyscrapers and elevators to rooms bundled in their masses. She was his everything, encouraging him to reach for what he knew could be his.

Four. They sat looking out the window, counting the cars on the narrow streets below. Counted 10 red cars. Amber always knew how to find the ones he seemed to miss.

Five. There was no time. He had selfishly spent it, squandered it in the arms of another woman who grasped him like a doll of clay, melting and molding into the misshapen version he now claimed. He had scraped his fork in rebellion while drowning in dark whiskies. You hear about typical phobias of spiders and public speaking, but nothing compares to the fear of settling, of grey and complacency becoming your reality.

Enveloped in the time between what is now and what is to be forever, his mind sought a memory, laid across the floor of an attic, brushing fingertips with the only girl he had ever truly loved. That sliver of light and goodness buried within a life summed up with very few glorious words or trophies.

The clock on the car radio buzzed as the seconds hummed by. But even in death, there is no time for anything more than a glimpse.