Inevitably, our prolonged days of summer came to an end. It was time to face the world again; to come back down to earth. Reality beckoned, and I would be returning home. The precious idyllic moments halted, to make way for the passage of time.  I was more excited than ever to see Daddy. Now, something told me that our reunion would undoubtedly be happy. Sometimes, all you could do was wait a little while longer, and things would fall into place. But then another notion occurred to me. Not everything would change.

            This realization was both comforting and troubling. Comforting, because I knew that I would be coming back to a place I’d always known—the same cheerful town of Pleasantville. I tried to absorb every detail in my mind. The community gatherings, Sunday Bible studies, even the big sign that said “Welcome to Pleasantville” which people saw when they turned right off of the main highway. It even had a picture of a smiling sun, as if to serve as a symbol of the widespread contentedness which permeated throughout the area.

Furthermore, I knew I would find my niche again somehow, especially since there would always be those special people who made life brighter. After all, if all else went wrong, then I’d still have two friends back home and one in Europe; not to mention my dad.

I had a feeling that he would be a happier person and his optimism would return. From his letters, he had been much more upbeat. When I thought of Daddy, I was reminded of yet another thing that wouldn’t have changed—he would still be…who he was. Something that even he could not bring himself to say. To my pleasant surprise, though, I realized that it didn’t matter to me like it used to. Yeah, my dad was gay. How could we let that fact stop us from being happy?

Still, I was troubled at the thought of going back to school and facing all the other kids. I didn’t want to seem weak, but the truth was, the matter downright terrified me. In fact, that was one reason why I wanted to get away for the summer. I reckon Dad was aware of this too, and he wanted to protect me. It broke his heart whenever I told him that I was being picked on, though I couldn’t bear to tell him the worst of it.

Perhaps uncertainty was part of the reason why I was scared to go back home. It was ironic how the apprehension over leaving and the apprehension over returning were powered by a common force: fear of the unknown.

And then, there was Casimir. Much to his dismay (and to mine as well), I would be departing in a single day. I had packed my suitcase, which was filled with letters, and picked up my projects at The Leaps and Bounds. I decided not to attend the End of Summer Ceremony, which consisted of making memory scrapbooks and distributing awards to a few campers. After all, my fondest memories were outside of camp. I didn’t need a scrapbook to remember them for years to come—they would be with me forever, no matter where I went.

 

Though we looked back on the bittersweet episode of the dance with wry humor, I could tell that a part of Casimir just wanted to forget about it. Perhaps his pride had been injured, in a sense, yet I believed that he was graceful even as he fell to the floor. Nevertheless, I got the impression that he wouldn’t step foot on TLBIDCCG campus for a long time. I couldn’t blame him either. The first time he goes out in public on a date, he passes out. What a bummer!

I tried to make light of the matter by saying, “That’s what friends are for. We catch each other when we fall, and lean on one another for support.”

Casimir merely shrugged, a sad smile on his face. He muttered more to himself than to me, “Then what happens when one of us isn’t there? That’s why we have to learn to stand up for ourselves.” I knew he had a point, and I realized that I needed to be able to hold my own. Though Casimir thought the opposite, I believed that I actually needed him even more than he needed me.

Nevertheless, Casimir and I were mutually exuberant with our summer of awakening, and we knew there would be many more days to come that would be ours.

We spent our remaining moments together in his backyard, and we went to the nearby pond to skip rocks. It was something that I had learned at camp, and Casimir became a pro in no time. I gazed at our reflections in the clear water. They were distorted for a moment as I skipped a rock; sending ripples throughout the brook.

I felt a strange sense of relief when our mirror images were no longer hazy, and the ripples stopped. It served as a sort of reassurance that this was real, that we were truly together. I became overjoyed when I recognized that the great awakening which was occurring was not a discouraging discovery that all of my happiness had been a dream. No, our wonderful awakening had been true in all the right aspects. I felt complete, as well as more observant and alive.

Casimir looked at me, a thoughtful expression etched across his face. He looked like he was thinking about something long and hard, yet he was fully contented too. Finally, he said to me, “Essie, is it strange?”

I frowned slightly. “Is what strange?”

He shifted his weight (though there wasn’t much of it) from one foot to another. “I don’t know. Our…relationship? I mean, we’re both only eleven. From what I gather, other people our age have had some life experiences that we haven’t. But still, they don’t seem any more whole than we do, all in all. That is, whole, in a sense of the two of us measured together in heart, mind, and soul,” he reasoned.

I still found the meaning behind his words to be ambiguous. “Why the two of us measured together?” I asked curiously.

“Because…” he began. “Because we complete each other.”

“And two halves make a whole,” I rationalized.

 The two of us held hands as we sauntered along, passing magnolia and oak trees. We strolled into a nearby park, taking in the beauty around us.

 Casimir nodded. “In this case, somewhat. But maybe I was less than half internally, and you were more. So in order for us to make each other whole, me, who was far from completed, found you, who was nearly completed. I guess what I’m trying to say is that it isn’t always a fifty-fifty deal. One person has a little more to give, and the other has a little less. But together, they have enough joy to be positively blissful, and enough wisdom to be well-rounded and philosophical. So, in the end, it works out. Another rare happily ever after.”

Yes, Casimir was nothing short of a prince charming. All he needed was a fine white horse.

“Awww,” I cooed, putting my arm around him. Then, I looked him in the eyes.

 “Casimir, your words are very beautiful. But what’s the root of the matter? What are you trying to tell me?” I inquired.

He took a deep breath and looked as if he were gazing into a fixed point in the distance. “I was just wondering. Is it normal to feel things so deeply? We’re still children in some ways. But we have several more years to grow…to become whole within ourselves.”

Finally, I spoke again, with a half-smile on my face. “Well, we’re two special people who were lucky to find each other. Are we different than others? Heck, yes! There aren’t many preteen romances like ours, I dare say. But throughout my life, I’ve been called several things that were far from the word ‘unique.’ Some of them weren’t so nice. The truth is, though, it doesn’t matter anymore, or at least not like it used to.  I think it’s wonderful that we’re both capable of feeling emotions so deeply.”

“Then again, Romeo and Juliet weren’t that much older than us. The thing is, though, I don’t want our story to end tragically…” his voice trailed off.

I giggled nervously. “Casimir, be reasonable. We’re so happy when we’re together. Plus, it’s not like our families are feuding. Our dads are good friends, as a matter of fact. How could our blue skies fade? Despite what anyone may think…of me or my dad or whatever; no matter what happens—we’ll always be together,” I assured him.

He looked relieved, and offered a small smile. “That’s true, and I’d never want it to change. I don’t think it will, either. I’ll always love you, Essie Miracle. But we shouldn’t rush something so precious and beautiful as our…loving relationship and flourishing friendship. I know, I probably sound like some sappy romance novel, or a lovesick teenager…but that’s okay. What I’m trying to say is, I want us to relish every stage and aspect of what we have. That way, we can both be fully thankful for each other.”

I nodded. “I understand. We’re kindred spirits—you and I. And I reckon we’re smarter than Romeo and Juliet. We’d never kill ourselves or anything like that, and if we ever decided to get married, then we’d tell our parents first.”

Casimir blushed upon hearing this, what with the mention of marriage and all. I wished I hadn’t said it. In a sense, marriage is a topic that’s terrifying for most guys, if brought up too early. But Casimir and I were young then, and we deemed such matters to be so far off in the future that we were able to look at them with levity. Like he said, we were still children.

He cleared his throat and looked at me wistfully, yet thankfully at the same time. “It’s downright foolish for someone to take their own life away,” Casimir mused.

“So I guess I was a fool,” he continued. “But the thing that really gets to me is how one could be driven to kill themselves by somebody they loved. Think about it this way: if Romeo hadn’t had met Juliet in the first place, then he probably wouldn’t have committed suicide. I can’t believe that love could work in such a cruel way. You see, in our case, you gave me a reason to live. I believe you’re right—our story will end happily, won’t it? And…the honest truth is...you helped me not to kill myself.

 “If anything, a person should keep going ‘till the bitter end. Or, until the happy ending. Whenever God thinks it’s their time. After all, your soul is the worst thing you can lose,” he explained.

“Indeed so. But your soul—the essence of who you are—that lives on forever. And it’s the one thing that no one can ever destroy or take away from you. My dad told me this,” I said softly.

We walked in silence for a moment. There was only the sound of twigs breaking on the ground as we promenaded through the park. I was barefoot, and I felt the soft green grass between my toes. Casimir never went anywhere without shoes on, and he wore his brown oxfords today. It was funny to notice this small difference between us, though it didn’t matter much.

            A brisk breeze came, and my orange sundress blew against my legs. Casimir’s shirt billowed in the wind, revealing his scar which was barely visible now. And, I wasn’t certain, but I thought I saw a little clear tube coming out of his stomach. His eyes met mine for a minute, but then I averted my gaze and looked up at the sky.

            Without saying a word, Casimir walked over to the nearest magnolia tree, picked up a fallen flower, and carefully put it in my hair. He intertwined the light pink blossom through my golden light brown tendrils. “Beautiful,” he breathed. “Thank you,” I whispered.

            “You know, Essie, I can hardly believe that you’re leaving…it feels like you’ve been here forever. This has truly been the best summer of my life, and it’s hard to see it go. I’m really going to miss you, but we’ll see each other again…I know we will. You can always come back to visit…anytime.

“Things are going to feel so strange when you’re gone. It’ll be like…a hollow space in my heart…a hollow space that still manages to be filled because we’ll be together in spirit. And I know I’m rambling on and on like a lovesick Romeo, but so be it. If there’s one thing I shouldn’t be afraid of, it’s expressing my feelings to and for you,” Casimir murmured.

            “I’ll be at home in Indiana, the state that looks like a Christmas stocking,” I told him. He had a big world map tacked to the wall in his room, and he knew each and every one of the 50 states.

            He chuckled. “Yeah, and Minnesota looks like a winter boot, Missouri looks like a person with a pointy nose, and Louisiana has the shape of the letter ‘L’.”

            “And have you ever noticed how Mississippi looks like the side of a woman’s head, or how Arkansas looks like a cliff, or the way New York appears to be George Washington?” I continued. Most people looked for shapes in the clouds, but we looked for shapes in the United States.

            I gave Casimir my address, and we planned to write letters as often as possible. He even promised to send me a postcard, just for the heck of it. “It will make me feel well-traveled,” Casimir explained. “Besides, the truth is, I feel my home could never be described as a place. It’s more a feeling in my heart; something that I’m tied to. And something which bonds everyone that matters to me. Like a web, or magnets pulling together. I guess I finally know what it feels like to be attached.” He looked at me intently.

            “How do you mean?” I asked, somewhat puzzled. His lips drew together in a thin line.

            “You see, I really don’t know my dad, but that doesn’t change the fact that he matters to me. I’m not sure of what his ambitions, emotions, or concerns are, or even if he has any at all. Maybe my mother was the only one he could ever have any affection for.

            “Perhaps she was the sole string that connected his heart to the balloon of love, passion, and meaningfulness. So, it’s not that he’s a bad chap or anything, and it wouldn’t make a difference if I were the best son in the universe. I reckon it’s just that he’s not capable of loving anyone anymore. That’s the really sad part. It is painful to imagine a person becoming thoroughly numb. Not feeling anything, good or bad.

The last time I saw him, I remember a dead look in his eyes. It reminded me of how an old, bare tree looks during the dead of winter. Even though the tree has broken branches to begin with, there are no bright autumn leaves to give it any cheerful, beautiful character. And when the tree stays barren all year round, it’s clear that it will soon fall to nothing or be chopped down.” Casimir said these words with brooding dismay, and his gaze drifted avertedly.

Water trickled and flowed in the fountain nearby, and a few small children played tag around us. All that could be heard was the surrounding reverberation, and for a moment, we just were. There was nothing to say, everything to think, and something to believe. A bit of gloominess was always present in Casimir’s tone whenever he talked about his dad. The people you loved really could hurt you, even if it was unintentional.

I tried to think of the right thing to say, and the words soon formed. “Everyone feels pain, Cas. Sometimes we can see it, but other times we can’t. And…people can become numb overtime. But maybe that numbness is caused by pain. It’s not that someone doesn’t want to care; it’s that they’ve forgotten how. But they can learn again. There’s another chance, and more hope.”

He nodded. “I feel like I’m a nomad, who’s searching for my soul. I’ve nearly found it, yet I still wander aimlessly. It’s hard to explain, but I’m not absolutely sure what I’m looking for. Maybe when my father finds his soul, I’ll have completely found mine,” Casimir deliberated.

“You could help him,” I suggested.

Casimir considered this. “Speaking of souls, since everyone has one, and since souls live on forever, then how come people have trouble understanding who they are? Why do they have trouble being happy? Why do I? If our essence is right in front of us, then why do we even have to look for it in the first place?” he asked, out in the open.

“I’ve wondered those things too. I still haven’t figured out all the answers. Maybe you should ask God,” I responded.

“Do you think He’d answer?”

“Perhaps not with words. But He’ll certainly listen. He always does,” I said.

Casimir skipped another rock across the pond adjacent to us. “Remember what I told you before, about us completing each other?”

“Yeah?”

 “Well, it reminds me of a Greek myth I read once. It said that originally, humans had four arms, four legs, and a single head made of two faces. But Zeus feared their power and split them all in half, causing them to spend their lives searching for the other half to complete them,” he explained.

“Interesting. But the Greek myths aren’t real. Besides, I’m not polytheistic, Cas, nor am I Greek for that matter,” I replied matter-of-factly.

“Of course they aren’t real. That’s why they’re called myths. Still, the last part of it makes sense. Some people do spend their lives searching for the other half to complete them. I have, without fully knowing it,” Casimir continued.

“I reckon I didn’t have to search for very long. My other half is standing right in front of me,” I grinned.

  “Same here,” Casimir articulated. “Same here.”

Just then, a thought occurred to him, and he looked at me inquisitively. “Essie, how do you know that you’re not Greek?”

“I…I don’t really know,” I admitted. “My father isn’t, and I don’t look like I am. But I have no way of knowing for sure.” I bit my lip. I hadn’t thought about my biological family on a daily basis. Did it really matter, anyhow? But now, the more I thought about it, the more I wondered, and the farther my elastic band of curiosity was stretched.

Casimir was guilty that he brought it up. “Essie, I’m sorry…We don’t have to talk about it. I won’t mention it again, I promise.”

“One step at a time,” I said. “That’s how life’s meant to be taken. The thing is, though, you’re right. It is a mystery. But not all mysteries are meant to be solved. Sometimes you just have to take things as they come, and make do with the hand you’re dealt. It does make sense for me to wonder about this. But right now, I’m more concerned about my dad. Don’t get me wrong—I am curious. This is just one bridge that I’ll cross if and when I come to it,” I told him.

“That’s a good way to look at it,” Casimir replied.

“On the occasions when I wonder where I came from; who my parents were…or are…I think of Daddy. He told me that I was a new beginning for him. And he’s the one who has nurtured my soul and been an amazing parent.

“On one hand, it’s important to know your history and biological family. But on the other, the opposite makes sense too—where you come from doesn’t matter nearly as much as what you do. Discovering where you belong is the thing that counts. I like the second viewpoint better, but the truth is, I’m not totally sure which one is true. Still, there’s plenty of time to figure it out, right?” I speculated.

“One step at a time,” Casimir repeated, squeezing my hand.

We retreated back to his house, hand in hand. Outside the gate to his front lawn, there were a few trees and shrubs dotting the pathway from the woods. “I have an idea,” he said presently. We walked off the trail which jutted through the Chrysanthemum residence and the forest. There was one tree on the left side of the woods’ footpath, which was taller than the rest, and covered in lush, green leaves.

“It’s called a tree of heaven,” Casimir told me. “In ancient Chinese history, it was used to cure several ailments. The technical scientific name for it is Ailanthus altissima, which means something like ‘tree reaching for the sky’. It’s able to thrive in difficult environments, and it grows very quickly.”

I looked at him inquisitively. He took a deep breath, and reached into his pocket. To my surprise, he took out a pocket knife. In a near whisper, Casimir said, “I once used this knife to gruesomely harm myself. But now, I’m going to use it for something good. To make a memory.”

As well as I knew Casimir, his quaint qualities occasionally surprised me. Without saying a word, he used his pocket knife to carve into the tree of heaven’s trunk. “Will it hurt the tree?” I asked, perplexed.

“No, it won’t. Don’t worry.” He continued to etch his masterpiece. “It’s on our property line anyhow, so I’m not defacing anyone else’s tree.”

Since he was standing right in front of the tree of heaven, I could not see what he was carving. I noticed that the tree had a strong odor when its bark was scraped, similar to peanuts or cashews. I wrinkled my nose.

“There!” Casimir said at last, taking a step back from his work. Engraved on the narrow tree trunk was a heart with an arrow going through it. Inside of the heart were our initials.

E.M.

+

C.C.

 

 

“Forever,” I declared.

“For always,” he agreed.

 

 Breathlessly exultant, we strode towards the house; the remnants of our last day slowly fading. Two halves, who together formed a whole.

RATE THIS CHAPTER!

Author guidance for This story