Mailboxes

Mailboxes

A Short Story by Foster Turtle

The hardest part about being wrong is believing you are right, and Aiden was certain he would remember Cecilia’s face.

He was certain he would remember the congregation of freckles gathered around her nose, and that when she smiled a dimple only appeared on her right cheek. He would remember how self conscious she was about her brown eyes, how she claimed they looked like mud. He would remember the way she curled a snatch of her auburn hair around her finger when she was thinking.

The truth was, he would remember. He would remember details, but never the whole picture. He would remember Cecilia’s face the way you remember a voice. He would remember her the way you remember a laugh, or a particular word, but never every inflection and tone.

“Will you close your eyes already?” Cecilia’s voice was impatient, but not unkind.

Aiden closed his eyes and listened intently.

A creek babbled gently between the pair, dodging around smooth rocks that pushed up from just beneath the surface. Songbirds sang melodies as they flitted between trees. Dead leaves caught by the wind rustled across the ground like a procession marking the changing seasons.

“Okay… you can step on a rock if you step out with your right foot about a half step.” Cecilia sounded more uncertain than Aiden would have liked, but he kept his eyes clenched and stepped forward. His foot found purchase on one of the smooth stones, though it was not a graceful maneuver.

Cecilia clapped her hands together and gave a small laugh.

“Okay okay, now take a whole step with your left foot, and move it a little inwards.”

Aiden felt tentatively around for the rock, taking his time to search it out. He shifted his backpack uncomfortably on his shoulders.

“Trust me Aiden! It’s there.” Cecilia’s stubborn tone had returned. She had a way of bending her voice to let you know she was serious, without ever coming across as harsh.

Aiden sighed, and committed to a leap. He landed off balance on the rock and had to pinwheel his arms to stop from careening into the water. He clenched his eyes shut against the urge to open them.

“Almost landed me in the water with that one.” Aiden’s voice was even and quiet. His voice never rose, and Cecilia liked that. Even when he did speak, he was quiet.

“Yeah yeah, but you didn’t, did you?” Cecilia was far from defensive. She was filling a silence that did not threaten to encroach on the friends. “Okay, left foot again. This one is a full step away.”

Aiden lifted his foot in a smooth confident motion and plunged it straight into the water.

“You went too fast!” Cecilia shrieked.

Aiden’s eyes popped open as the calf deep water chilled his leg. His foot was only a quarter pace to the left of the final rock.

“I was just listening to you. You said to trust you. Anyways, we almost made it across this time.” Aiden’s voice was free of malice. A gentle hopefulness played through his words, making Cecilia smile. She stood up and helped him to the bank.

“Okay your turn, but you better not let me fall in. I’m going to be more careful than you.” Cecilia stepped to the edge of the creek and shut her eyes tight.

Aiden guided Cecilia’s steps, helping her cross from stone to smooth stone. They always spent the afternoon in the woods behind their houses. If you could call them woods.

A swath of land stretched from beyond the backyards of the suburbian houses for almost a mile. It was riddled with trees, creeks, and the sounds of the highway it suddenly bumped into. Aiden looked up into the canopies of the trees. The wind swept through the branches shaking groups of yellow leaves free.

Through Aiden’s eyes, the leaves were blurred yellow blobs falling to the ground around him. They only came into focus once he could reach out and touch them. His slowly failing sight was impossible for him to ignore.

“I don’t know why you trust me to guide you across the creek when I can’t even see the other side.” Aiden’s voice remained calm, but Cecilia caught a hint of wavering melancholy. She opened her eyes and turned around, still in the middle of the creek.

“That’s a pretty crummy thing to say.” It was the best she could do. She never knew how to comfort Aiden. 

Aiden slid his backpack strap off, and let his books thump to the ground. He drew a thick hardback textbook out of his backpack. It stood out next to the others. It stood out, not because the text was written in braille, but because the binding was not frayed. It stood out, because only one name was written on the card-stock card, in the pocket in the front cover. It stood out, because no one else had a copy, and no one else at his school ever had.

Aiden flipped the book open on his lap, running his fingers across the bumps on the page. He was not reading, just feeling the page rise and fall beneath his fingertips. Cecilia made her way back to the bank of the creek, and slowly sat down next to him. The book never left Aiden’s backpack during school.

“What does this one say?” Cecilia said, pointing to a cell of dots on the page. Aiden noticed she had painted her nails a light blue. Just yesterday they had been yellow.

“That one says pushy.” Aiden said, softly.

“No it doesn’t!” Cecilia burst.

“Yes it does.” Aiden closed his eyes and ran his finger across the page. “Whoever feels predestined to see and not believe will find all believers too noisy and pushy.”

Cecilia was quiet. She meticulously pulled blades of grass one by one from the ground, braiding them together before discarding them over her shoulder. Aiden did not like when she was quiet. Cecilia was a fountain of thoughts. They spilled out of her with a consistency that was comforting.

“It would be a much lighter read with pictures.” Aiden said with a half smile. The tension of Cecilia’s silence was released like the spillway of a dam as she laughed aloud. Her laugh carried into the trees, jumbled together in fits-and-starts.

“I’m sorry Aiden.” She said, still hiccuping a bit.

“That’s okay, I meant it to be funny.” Aiden returned the book to his backpack, and slung it across his shoulders, before standing. He hopped across the rocks, and scrambled up the bank on the other side.

Cecilia trailed closely behind him. As the woods opened before them, she trotted a bit to walk beside him. As they walked, side by side, she launched into a long explanation of the inner workings of teenage social dynamics. Aiden was always interested, and always listened, but never because of what she was talking about. 

“…which is why Melissa and John ended up at completely different movie theaters. I mean, is it really that hard…”

The woods stopped abruptly, as the ground sloped into a small hill ending in a road. Houses lined the opposite side, like so many cardboard cutouts of the same template.

“… so then Melissa and Diana ended up watching the movie together instead, and John never even…”

As Aiden listened, he watched the blurry forms of mailboxes slowly come into focus. As the mailbox sharpened, he would hold the image in his mind and look to the next one, willing it to come into focus sooner.

“Aiden?” Cecilia’s story had stopped. Aiden was a careful listener, almost never losing a conversation. Cecilia’s face had worry written on it, and she did not seem intent on concealing it.

“Sorry about that, my mind was just drifting.”

Cecilia knew Aiden’s mind did not wander. He went from thought to thought like a gardener tending their plants. A new silence burdened the air between them.

“I like your new nail polish.” Aiden said, meeting Cecilia’s eyes and smiling.

“Thank you, my mom says it’s too…” Cecilia’s chatter carried them to her front door.  No more silences burdened them through the rest of the walk. Two in one day would likely be a record for the year.

As they approached Cecilia’s door, she made her closing remarks on the day, concluding their walk in the same way she did everyday. 

“Well, that was a pretty good day.” Even if it had not been, she still would have said it. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t forget to call about the algebra if you need help.” The call was not always algebra, but it was always school related.

“Okay, I will. I’ll see you tomorrow,” came Aiden’s traditional reply. Cecilia waved as she walked through the front door.

Aiden set off on the remainder of his walk home. His pant leg was almost dry. Almost. A shiver ran through him as a light breeze blew between the houses.

As Aiden walked, his eyes drifted to the mailboxes. And he focused on mailbox after identical mailbox.