~ Written by Danielle N. Bilski ~

COM14 Creative and Professional Writing
Assignment 1: Short fiction (1,000 words)

Anxious envelope
Written by Danielle Bilski

The envelope was propped against the overflowing fruit bowl. His name and address printed in crisp black font, covered by a thin transparent window. Deacon kept his pale eyes trained on the letter as he sleepily scooped spoonfuls of cornflakes into his mouth. Besides the crunch of cereal and slurp of milk, the repetition of a dripping tap, the kitchen was quiet. The curtains were closed, shielding the room from the rising humidity outside.

On a yellow Post-it, stark against the white paper, he recognised his father’s handwriting. He read it again.

Deacon,
No matter what it says, I’ll be so proud of you mate!
So would your Mum.
Love always,
Dad

When only milk remained, Deacon dropped the spoon carelessly to ring loudly against the ceramic bowl. Resting his elbows on the table, he ran his fingers through his dark brown bed-hair and yawned. The same way he had in the gymnasium that stressful November morning, four weeks ago. Looking down at his bare chest, the cross-hatch of scars sat between his left nipple and his shoulder, where he’d left them.

He thought about the first time he’d cut, in March – the day of his mother’s funeral. He pushed the memory away, replaced with the last time – three weeks ago. It was the day before he went to a pool party at Becca’s parent’s house where he’d turned up alone, as usual.

‘Hey Deak!’ Becca waved politely in her bright yellow bikini. She leaned against her boyfriend’s bare chest, Ricky’s hands grazing her tight little hips. Her hair hung to one side in loose blond curls.
‘Hey,’ Deacon replied, stepping warily onto the deck, surveying the bare-skinned crowd in his board short and favourite Slipknot t-shirt.
‘I’m glad you came!’ He felt the cool of her lips against his cheek. ‘Andy and Peter are already in the pool,’ Becca said, pointing her Midori bottle towards the backyard.
‘Hey man,’ Ricky offered his hand, pulled Deacon close and patted him on the back. Deacon pulled away. ‘D-man, you do know this is a no-shirt pool, don’t you?,’ Ricky teased.
Deacon felt his chest tighten. He’d never liked that guy and convinced himself it had nothing to do with his own crush on Becca. The one he’d had ever since she’d smiled at him in Maths class in year eight. For some reason, all through high school Becca chose to date cocky slime balls like Ricky.
Becca noticed Deacon’s hesitation and playfully elbowed Ricky in his perfectly chiselled abs.
‘Leave him alone, Rick!’ she warned.
‘C’mon babe. If he wants to play with the rest of us, he has to know the rules. Isn’t that right boys?’
‘Ay!’ shirtless Drew, Simon and Cameron boomed, lifting their Coronas to cheers.

Deacon immediately headed back into the house. As he reached the front door, Becca caught his hand.
‘Deacon, wait!’ When he turned to face her, he could smell the sunscreen and strawberry lip gloss she was wearing, could see the freckle below her right eye.
‘Sorry, I have to go.’
‘Don’t listen to them. They like to tease. Ricky teases me all the time.’
He watched her smile gradually fade and caught a flash of the same look in her eye, he saw in the mirror before he’d cut.
‘Why do you let him?’
‘What?’
‘Never mind.’ He bowed his head, regretfully.
‘Deak? Tell me what’s wrong?’ He considered for a moment whether he trusted her enough, whether they were similar enough that she could possibly understand what he’d never told anyone else.
‘Where’s your bathroom?’ he asked.

Without another question, she took his hand and led him into a dark hall, opened the second door on the right and closed it behind them.Deacon stood in front of the mirror, his palms flat on the cold marble vanity. Becca stood in front of the door watching him.
‘I feel…’ he stuttered.
She waited with her arms crossed.
‘Since my Mum left, I feel like an envelope. All this pain builds up inside and the only way  I can get it out of me is to either pass it on to someone else or to cut myself open a little bit. It wouldn’t wish it on anyone. But all it does is seal again.’
‘What do you mean?’Deacon fingered the bottom of his t-shirt as she watched his hand shake. He lifted one corner over his head, refusing to look at himself. Instead, he bowed his head and focused on the shirt tightly gripped in his right hand. She stepped closer.
‘You did this to yourself?’ she asked gently. He felt her fingertip trace the old scars of raised skin, before the newest wound sealed with his clotted blood. A day ago, it had stained his fingers like dripping red candle wax. A part of him wondered whether she could be his wax seal.
‘Tell me something?’ he asked.
‘What do you want to know?’
‘Does he hurt you?’
‘Who?’
‘Ricky. You said he teases you. Doesn’t that make you feel bad?’
‘He doesn’t mean it!’
‘Like my Mum didn’t mean for her car to hit a tree?’
‘That’s different. That was an accident.’ Deacon reached out to wipe away the tear from Becca’s cheek. Between his fingers, it felt thinner than his own blood.
‘I know.’ He tucked her hair behind her ear, leaned in close enough to taste her warm breath and before he knew it she kissed he mouth so gently, her tongue brushing his. Her hand covered his scars and for a moment he forgot they were there.
‘Deacon?’He pulled away, embarrassed and already knowing what she was going to say next.
‘Promise me you won’t do this to yourself anymore.’
‘It’s the only way…’ he unravelled his shirt, about to put it back on.
‘Really? That’s the only way to feel better? Didn’t this make you feel good?’
‘Well…yes.’
‘If you promise me you won’t cut yourself, I will promise to kiss you like that every day.’
‘How? You’re with him.’
‘Not for much longer. You know, no one has ever kissed me, or even looked at me, the way you just did. I’d be an idiot to choose him now, wouldn’t I? Well…what do you say?’

Deacon’s phone buzzed on the table next to his bowl.
‘Hello?’ he answered.
‘Hi, have you opened it yet?’
‘Not yet. Have you opened yours?’
‘No. I thought we could open them at the same time.’
‘Where are you?’
‘Just outside.’
Deacon hung up the phone, rushed down the hall and opened the front door. Becca smiled thoughtfully, her eyes sparkling in the sunlight. She stepped across the threshold, pressed herself against him and kissed him gently. Deacon rested his hand in the small of her back.
‘Hi!’ she squeaked. ‘Nice hair!’
‘Hey. Come in.’
She rushed into the kitchen and sat down at the table. Deacon padded down the hall smoothing his hair. Picking up the bowl, he took it over to the sink and rinsed it.
‘Do you want a drink or anything first?’ he asked, gesturing towards the fridge.
‘No, I’m fine thank you. Come, sit down with me!’
Deacon sat in the chair beside her and dragged hers closer.
‘Are you ready to find out your ENTER?’
‘Are you kidding? I even brought my own letter opener.’
She pulled a small gold opener with a polished maroon handle out of her pocket and sat it on the table beside her envelope. Deacon looked away nervously.
‘I have an idea. What don’t we open each other’s? It would be kind of romantic.’
For the first time in almost a year, Deacon felt himself smile.
‘Are you up for that?’ she asked and he nodded.
‘And remember…’ she said, slipping the Post-it from his envelope and pressing it against his scars. ‘No matter what,’ she whispered.
‘Me too,’ he agreed, holding her hand on his heart.
‘Ok, on the count of three. One. Two. Three.’ Deacon watched Becca open his envelope as carefully as she had opened him and the anxiety it had held faded away. The same way his scars would, eventually.

My time with you.

©2013 Danielle N. Bilski