Like the Sun by radtastic

a piece from radtastic today, which certainly isn't because she said nicenice things about my prose pieces, not at all. Actually used a line from this in my secret santa piece for her as well. not that you'll find it, tis very small. not that anyone reads this anyway. but i'm big on documentation and nostalgia and such and i think this will be a nice place to have in a year or so. hanyway. tis long but i'm going to get away with it. end of story. read, if you are already doing so.

Like the Sun

We’re sitting outside on the porch. The sky is darkening rapidly. I remember as a little girl I’d sit in the same spot I’m in now and try not to blink so I could watch the progression of the sunset. I wanted to study it, see how fast it took for the sky to go from bright blue to orange and pink to dark, dark purple. But it never worked. Every time I’d end up blinking, or my thoughts would wander for just a split-second, and when I looked back the sky would be dark, and I would be out of luck.

“The sky is sort of like humanity.” I say, and Matt looks over at me. He’s smoking a cigarette. The end glows orange, illuminating a small part of his face in the darkness. I hope it’s still light enough for him to see me glare. I hate it when he smokes.

He catches the cig between two fingers and brings it away from his mouth. A cloud of smoke follows the cigarette, then joins the air and floats away from us. “What kind of bullshit idea is that.” He says.

I pretend to look offended, but I’m really not. Sometimes I say whatever comes to my head, and most of the time it IS bullshit. I could just let it go, but I decide to defend myself. “It is not bullshit.”

“Convincing argument.” He laughs as he puts the cigarette back between his lips.

I stick out my tongue and ignore his comment about my immaturity when he notices the aforementioned action. “Will you quit smoking already? You know I hate it.”

“Don’t go all big sister on me.” I can just make out his facial features in the dim light, and I’m fairly sure I saw him roll his eyes. “I can smoke if I want. I’m a big boy now, and everything!”

Even though I want to stick out my tongue again, I don’t. “You know you shouldn’t. You’ve already had cancer once.”

“It wasn’t lung cancer, and it was a long time ago. I don’t even remember it. I was like, what? Two?” I watch the cigarette dangle in his lips as he talks, spewing its ash everywhere on the porch. Mom would kill him if she saw. I try to grab it out of his mouth, but he turns his head. Even though it’s quickly getting darker I can tell I’ve made him angry; he takes a long drag from the cancer stick and blows the smoke at me. I cough exaggeratedly and pretend to fall over. He doesn’t laugh.

I clear my throat. “Just because you can’t remember it, doesn’t mean the rest of us have forgotten.”

“I know. You were four, and you remember it just like it was yesterday. I was in the hospital all the time, the medicine, the big, life-changing surgery, blah blah blah.” He pulls the cig from his mouth and leans over the porch, dropping it into the flowerbed below. I resist the urge to say something sarcastic about how classy that is.

“Whatever, uniballer.”

That was a shot below the belt. Literally. He moves like he’s going to stand up, but I grab his ankle and pull him back down. He gives in but refuses to look at me. His eyes are out toward the sun. It’s just barely visible now, an orange sliver in a mostly dark sky.

“Look, Matt,” I start, “I shouldn’t have—it’s not funny to—”

Matt doesn’t move his eyes away. “Don’t, Kate. It’s fine.”

I nod, but I’m not sure why because he’s not looking at me. The silence between us grows for a long time, and when I am sure I’m going to burst if neither one of us talks soon, he pipes up.

“So,” he says, “how is the sky like humanity?”

His question makes me uncomfortable. I draw my legs up the steps of the porch and bring them to my chest, hugging them with my arms. “It isn’t. That was a stupid thing to say.”

“No, explain it to me.” He insists. I feel like I owe him now, after the joke I made about his unfortunate state of pants-affairs.

After another long pause, I state profoundly, “I don’t know.” He shoots me a look, and even though it’s dark I can still see it, if only in my mind. I continue, if only to entertain him. “It’s like when the sun sets, it tries so hard. It illuminates something until the very last second. It never gives up; it perseveres. Even when the darkness is inevitably going to win, and there’s no hope, and everything is unfair, it still tries to be a beacon…you’re right, this was a bullshit idea.”

“I get it.”

That’s the only thing that’s said for awhile, as we both lean back and let the warm, humid night wash over us. I look over at him as he watches the stars come out, and suddenly, I want to cry. “Everything is unfair.” I repeat. He glances over and seems surprised to find me staring at him.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to be like the sun. Humanity may be strong and willing to fight, but that’s because it’s a whole group. Break them apart and all you have is humans, and what can one human do by itself? Nothing. I’m not courageous. I’m just one lone, single me.” A tear leaks out of the corner of my eyes, and I’m glad it’s dark because Matt hates it when he sees me cry. “You shouldn’t have to fight so hard. Things should just be fair. You should be able to smoke if you want to. You should have two effing balls.” A few more tears follow. “Everything is unfair, and I’m not a sun. I can’t fight it.”

Matt’s quiet for a really long time. I think he’s noticed my crying, but he doesn’t mention it. I’m grateful for that. After a few silent moments, he says, “I’m glad everything is unfair.”

I stare at him incredulously. “What?”

“I’m glad everything is unfair.” He repeats. “I mean…think about it. Life being fair wouldn’t change people; just because someone thinks they’re a good person doesn’t mean they are. So you’d have all these people, living life as they are now…only they wouldn’t be happy.”

“Why not?”

He sighs. I can tell he’s frustrated with me. “Because they’d have to live with the knowledge that everything bad that has ever happened to them…well, they would have had to have done something to deserve it.” He sits up and twiddles his handles nervously. “I like to think that I didn’t deserve cancer, and that I ought to have two balls, personally.”

Without thinking, I sit up and hug him as tight as I can. He doesn’t return the hug, but that’s probably because I’ve got his arms pinned to his side. “I love you, baby brother.” I say, suddenly.

Matt chuckles a bit and ignores my proclamation. “The trick to being like the sun—to keep fighting—is to know that everything being unfair is to your benefit, even if it doesn’t seem like it. You’ve just got to do your best, and you can’t let anything get you down. You have to keep…what word did you use again,” He asks, slightly embarrassed, “…illuminating?”

“Sounds right.” I tell him, even though I have no clue.

“You have to try to be the light in the darkness—to have hope, because the world is unfair, but it’s also beautiful.” He shrugs. I can tell he feels a bit silly. “I mean…look at the sunset, right?”

I still won’t let go of my grip on him. He continues to be hugged whether he likes it or not. “Yeah,” I agree, “it was a beautiful sunset.”