Regrets

By Yasaswee Yashmin

It was a cozy evening, cozy for them. The chilly winds of December outside kept knocking on their doors but the warmth of the fireplace kept them from listening to their pleas. Grandpa was rocking on a wooden chair, beautifully carved. The warmth of the room reminded him of Grandma. The kids, gathered around him beside the fireplace, had heard a thousand stories about Grandma that always started with, “She was beautiful.” 

Jake, Lily, and Edward had never met Grandma Matilda, but they all knew her by heart through his eyes. They adored their Grandpa Arthur. He had the warmest smile, the kindest eyes, and the most fun yet thrilling stories. He was not as uptight as you would expect an ex-army man to be. That day was another of the days when the kids would be dropped off at his house by the woods to spend their time playing hide and seek around the house, running as fast as they could in the backyard and listening to stories by the fireplace.

“Grandpa, please tell us the story of how you met Grandma again!” Lily pleaded. Lily was his favourite, because she had Matilda’s eyes. He had not been a part of Matilda’s childhood, yet, watching Lily felt like she was right there curled up like a ball in a snug pastel blanket.

“Yes! It's her birthday in two weeks, let's listen to the story!” Jake, the eldest of them all, always remembered everything grandpa could not. When sometimes the imminent dementia would knock the cane of remembrance from his hands, Jake would always be there to be his support and remind him of the tiniest details.

“You little beans never get tired of that story, do you?”

Edward sat quiet. He was the quieter one, but the bravest and the most unpredictable. You would never know what he would do next by looking at his eyes, jumping over the table and breaking it into two, or falling asleep, he always was on extremes. He’d rather listen to one of Grandpa’s stories where he fights off the nemesis of their country. But remembering Grandma made the air around feel warmer.

“Well, it’s my favourite story too! Okay then–” Grandpa held the kids close and began.

“I was serving in the army then and had been back home for some time. There had not been any signs of the war then. That day I was on the balcony of my parents’ house and there she was right across the street.”

“Her hair shone like rays of the sun. Her eyes were deep blue, just like our little Lily right here! I had never laid my eyes upon such a beautiful woman in my life. If I didn't know better, I would have thought of her as an angel. She was standing on her porch, with her door ajar behind her. She picked up a bouquet of flowers from the patio chair and held the note attached to it in her left hand. The moment she read the note, I saw her smile, as soft as rose petals. But then, my eyes were struck by something shiny on her finger—a ring. It was beaming like a flame on a snowy land. My smile dropped. I wished that ring was on some other finger and not the one it was on. I wished that ring had been mine. I wished the flowers had been from me.”

“I found out later through another neighbor that she had shifted here just a few weeks ago. Her husband, James, who was in the army, was back here for a few days just like me, and had sent her flowers halfway on the journey here. Well, at least she had a man that loved her. Yet, being friends would not hurt, would it? So, on January 12, 1939, I knocked at her door and a little kid opened it. He had the same blue eyes that made me reckon him as her son. He held a little doll that looked like a six-month old baby, with the longest eyelashes and eerie looking eyes.

“‘Hello! is your mother home?’” I asked.

Just as I finished the sentence, I saw her shadow as she walked down the hallway and stood by her child, Noah, as I later found out. She was as beautiful as I had thought. A beam of sunlight,  that her door could not protect her from, fell on her face. I was not disappointed at that moment, except by my ability to speak as she asked me a question.

“‘How may I help you?’” Her voice was sweeter than every note of music that I had ever heard in life.

“‘Uh—I live here—that little white house?–that's mine’” I stuttered.

She was waiting for me to finish the sentence and I hadn't come prepared. What was I thinking before coming here? I had no idea.

“‘I am in the army and found out your husband was too so I thought I'd come have a chat with him.’” I said, as if her husband wasn't the person I so wanted to switch lives with.

“‘Oh yeah, sure! But I'm afraid he's not home at this moment. He'll be back in the evening, I promise. Would you like to come over for tea then, sir?’” She said in a way that made it hard to refuse.

“‘Sure, I'll visit in the evening then. Thank you madam. Thank you little fella!’”

And there I was again, standing in front of her door, decorated like Christmas was just around the corner. I crossed the street, came back and sat on this very chair that belonged to your Great-grandpa then.

Remember little fellas! This chair was my only support before she'd been here, and it is now, after she's gone. It has still stayed strong all these years, reminding me of my Matilda. Oh what would i not give to to have those days back, when she was here—”

Before he could finish the sentence, there was a knock at the door. 

“Who is it at this hour?” Grandpa wondered.

The kids’ curiosity dragged them up the hall to the door. Before grandpa could give any tension to his aged bones, they opened it, letting the cold air come in that made the fire flicker in anticipation. 

“There is no one here. Where did that knock come from?” Lily shuddered. This was the first time she had sensed anything but comfort at Grandpa’s house.

“Maybe it was the wind?” Jake tried to calm her down.

“Let's go out and see. IS ANYBODY OUT THERE?” Edward was brave, not the smartest.

Jake tried to shut him up for the sake of their safety but Ed was already out in the woods trying to live the adventure of his dreams. A very concerned Jake and an equally frightened Lily followed him, hardly matching his pace.

Ed was running the marathon of his life. The crunch of the leaves underneath his shoes, the unpredictable branches acting as hurdles he jumped over, his echoing voice as he screamed, “Is anybody out there?” again and again, the rays of light peeking through the thick roof of leaves that he wanted to catch, they were all too good to be true. Grandpa had never let them come to the woods. He could hear the voices of Jake and Lily slowly fade away.

“I’m too fast for you!” He looked back with glee. There was no one. He could not hear them anymore.

“JAKE! LILY!” The echoes of his voice did not sound as thrilling now.

He decided to walk back.

Wait, which way did I come from?

It was getting dark. He shuddered. There were no wooden windows to shield him from the chilly winds. He could not mock the wind anymore. He missed the fireplace.

The small rays of the sun started disappearing one by one. Edward’s fear started shining through his want for adventure. He did not know which way to go. All the trees looked the same, and now due to the absence of light, they all looked like monsters putting out their claws to catch him. He decided to walk whichever way in order to atleast get out of the woods. The poor boy’s mind was after all just six years old and could not come up with any other idea.

He kept walking, and this time, the crunch of the leaves did not seem as riveting. Every step that did not have a snake coming at him, hissing with huge fangs, made him feel grateful. 

His feet were about to give up when–

Light! Is that a candle? There must be someone I could ask for help!

The little boy had not learnt yet that meeting an animal would have been safer. He ran towards the little flame of yellow and blue.

Why is there a box with a candle? Does it have food inside? I might be hungry…

Once again, his curiosity got the best of him and he decided to look inside that six foot long box before realising that it was a coffin–

Who is she? She looks so young…

Why did they leave her here?

She must be going to God like Grandpa had told. He said he would go to God in a box just like this…

Is she injured? Her head is bleeding…

I wonder where her family is…

He kept looking at her through the glass. It was peculiar how he was not scared. Edward did not know much about death nor did he have any idea that it was supposed to be scary. Seeing a coffin in the middle of the woods with a burning candle beside it at night was not something that would scare his little mind.

He looked at her pale face, her closed eyes, and hoped she was sleeping peacefully.

Why are her eyeballs quivering? 

She must be having a bad drea–

“Ahhhhh” Edward screamed as the woman opened her eyes to look at him.

“Noah!!! Noah, my boy, come here to me.” She pleaded, while banging the coffin glass trying to get out.

Edward was on the floor trying to slither away. This did scare him, yet he could not look away from her. His pounding heart begged him to get up and run. But his eyes disobeyed.

“Noah my boy come here!!”

“I am not Noahh, my name is Edward.” He mustered up all the courage that he had to get these words out of his throat.

“Where is Noahh? Where is he? I cannot see him!”

“I don’t kn–” before he completed the sentence, he realised she was not talking to him.

“He’s going to drown, please save him, somebody save him!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, while beating at the glass so hard it got tinted red with her blood.

Edward got up and ran for his life. He had no direction to follow and yet he ran. He ran until there was no land to run on, but water.

A pond…

How am I going to cross it? I don't know how to swim…

And it was then that he noticed it—

Something was floating in the water—is that a rock—rocks can’t float?

The dark did not let him see what it was, until his pupils adjusted and he deciphered what it was—shoes—hands—a nose—its a boy—

Oh god how do i save him??

Oh god what do i do

Grandpa where are you

He kept walking backwards not knowing what to do until he collided with someone. He turned back, half scared, half wishing whatever it was would save the boy–

It was a man.

Edward’s eyes, half blind with darkness, again got stuck on the face of that man.

He was holding a gun, a big gun, and was wearing exactly what his little toy soldier had on–army man! He’s an army man!

“Sir please save that boy! He is drowning. Please save him please!”

Edward shook the man’s arm, the one devoid of the gun, desperately trying to get him to save the boy. The man did not respond. He stared into nothingness with wide eyes and Edward could not notice that the man was almost not breathing. He looked scared of something.

That's when Ed heard it—a bullet fired.

It went straight through the man’s head, spraying the little boy with his blood. As the man dropped dead, Edward lost his voice in fear. He turned his head into the direction he heard the bullet from—another man wearing an army uniform holding a gun.

Edward closed his eyes–this is it—I will never get to see grandpa again—I'm sorry Jake, lily—Grandpa, please save me.

“Edward, come here my boy…”

Edward opened his eyes. 

Did grandpa send someone to rescue me?

Hope started pouring back into his little heart. He started taking small and cautious steps towards the man. The man got on his knees, put down his gun and stretched his arms towards him. He looked a lot like Grandpa—in fact—he looked exactly like the picture of grandpa, from his army days, on the shelf. 

Tears started flowing from Ed’s brave eyes. He was safe. He could finally cry. He ran to him sobbing. The man wrapped his arms around him and said exactly what Ed was thinking, “You are safe now.” Ed opened his eyes for a moment to see through his tears a doll lying on the ground—it looks like a little baby—such long eyelashes it has—but it has scary eyes…

He closed his eyes again and felt like he could sleep. He had been running so much. He was so tired. The world slowly faded away and he could hear nothing anymore—

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.

.

.

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—Arthur was woken up with a car blaring its horn at him. He had fainted in the middle of the street. He got up and walked over to the sidewalk. He had not eaten in days—he could not remember how many. He could not search for food anymore. Nor does he want to. That dream had been enough to feed his soul. He did have some regrets. He wished he had not left Matilda alone—he would never have let her shoot herself with the same gun that he shot her husband with. If he had stayed in the house that day, Jake, Edward, and Lily might have been real now. He would have had everything. But there is stuff he would never regret. Shooting James in the army and blaming it on the enemies was the best thing that he had done. Noah reminded her too much of James. He had to drown. Only if Matilda had been stronger and lived a new life with him instead of dying mourning the past—or she could have lived a little longer for him to put his name on her will. Now he’s hungry, lying on a footpath. Yet, he does not regret anything. It was her fault that she was so frail.

As Arthur curled himself into a ball to trick the chilly winds of December, he wished the fireplace had been real at least. His eyes closed with his stomach ache growing and growing every second, begging him to feed it.

As the world slowly faded away with him succumbing to his hunger, he thought of just one thing–

Only if I had put the gun away…

By Yasaswee Yashmin