437 days

Hot vapors quietly lingered above the shiny surface of the parquet. It was a silent day, a rare one, as the heat had nested itself in the soil of the burned fields. Unexpectedly, an invaluable shadow had settled over the room. Heavy blackness spread out and devoured an upholstered sofa aging of negligence, continuing along the greasy fibers on the dusty carpet covered by Polaroids which had brought happiness once upon a time, until it reached that deep scratch on the desk. That was the place she was standing in, silently watching the sky disappearing into nothingness, erasing the lines of the horizon through the glass pane. A wrinkle which had long ago settled itself at an angle above her nose appeared, as life had become much harder at this very moment. She carefully watched what was happening in front of her, behind the fogged up glass , how life presented itself as vastly peaceful. She thought of Zach, the little life that never seemed to confirm her presence, the boy that she did not know. The Zach who made her even more concerned about future incidents. It was he who tainted the idyll.

Disappointment had become a fundamental building stone of her life. Still, she had not become familiarized to it. Her body was rejecting the sensation because it had not been part of the plan. As the picture through the window slowly ceased to fascinate and lost contrast, her mind voluntarily decided to follow the same example. She was in fact angry. Irritated over how the little cabin which she had made into her own dwelling was crumbling underneath her. It was no longer her dwelling; it was an inferno of neglect, dust particles inhibiting pores in the walls. He never leaves her alone. His eyes, colored with the same color that God had colored the oak trees, observed her in the same stationary way that the same trees stood in the forest. Motionless. There was a constant smell of pine mixing with the dirt of the house. He takes advantage of her. Zach.

The endless fields surrounding her behind the walls were caressed by a gentle wind. It was not a particularly strong nor noticeable wind, its only purpose was to apologize to the plants for the murderous heat. However, she recognized it. It was the same wind which had tousled Zach's beautiful hair. Her memory of him that day when they wandered across the fields accompanied with the afternoon sun was the last good memory that she had. He had been more vibrant, different in every aspect. He worried her so much now, but back then he gave her much back. Her hand was tingling. She could feel his petite hand enclosed by hers. How he looked at her quietly and smiled. Then he would disappear under the carpet of golden wheat, just to reappear with a small striped grass snake in his hands. Frightened, she pulled him towards her, the surprising action resulting in the little snake flying out of Zach's hand, falling in the abyss of the wheat field. She felts its scared flight on her bare legs. Zach's body was now wrapped around her chest. He was so small, insignificant. Adorable, as he laughed, pressing his body against her, the tingling of his hair triggering laughter in her.

The anger increased within her. Why had he become this way? There was no longer a smile painted on his mouth. He never wrapped himself around her, nor pulled her apron. Nor did he speak to her. Instead, her reality had become a silent longing and need from his side. His eyes gave away his secret.
It was not her fault.

Her gaze wandered downwards, acknowledging the wavy surface created by the down slope of the glass molecules, finally fixating her eyes on a shell resting alone of the yellow windowsill. She watched the meticulous shell that the sad child once had collected. Her eyes followed the rare contours, until the lines disappeared in small eddies and never came back. Perhaps she was not good enough? Perhaps Zach was never destined to experience the moment when fortune tried all its borders? The sweet vortices pulled the mind into confusion. For a long time she had not been able to sleep peacefully at night as the tears flowed down the cheeks of fear that the dream of a brighter time was crushed. It was in this unhappiness that she had become angry with Zach. She would not let him bring misfortune over her, why couldn't he accept life as it was at this very moment? She hated him, because he could not teach himself to love her. She hated the memories of each time she had expected a good word from his mouth, or a childish smile, or some other good guidance. Because, they were never there when she wanted them.

A crash. The sound of fine porcelain cracking under the pressure exerted by the floor. Her furious scream. Zach had pushed her towards an end. She needed a revenge. Her hand had collided with his cold cheek, making him fall off the wooden chair on which he had been seated by her while she was watching out through the window. The chair had scraped painfully against the floor. The hot fumes had now disappeared with the thin air. She was breathing again.

Then suddenly she came to her senses. She watched the dry porcelain peaces scattered over the floor, Zach's body in the center. She frenetically started collecting the peaces, reassembling Zach's face. Tears were flooding her aged face and her trembling fingers made it hard for her to fit the peaces together. While taping them together with old tape which she had removed from the album containing Polaroids, she whispered with great anxiety: "Zach, forgive me. I am so sorry".

She picked up the lifeless body with great care and carried it into the bed chamber. There, she put it down in a small child bed, watching how the body sunk in in the old madras. The wooden eyes watched her angrily, placed out of symmetry by her concentrated reassembling. She bent over the little body structure, caressed the fragmented cheek and crying whispered "Please forgive me". She threw herself over the porcelain doll ornamented with the same colored hair and eyes of an oak tree, now laying in the bed in which her son Zach had died in 437 days ago.