Bench of the Melancholy
Bench of the Melancholy
It was a very interesting patch of dirt. Many feet had rested on this spot, making the earth hard enough to break your paw if you were foolish enough to take it on. Timothy was very tempted. He liked the idea of feeling his bones compact and then shatter under the pressure. It would hurt, but it would be of the physical kind and not the dull constant throbbing of his heart. So intense that all Timothy wanted to do was cry.
He leaned back into wooden bench but kept his eyes lowered. Focus had shifted from the ground to the meshed paws resting on his lap. It had been years since fluid had followed the lines of the black tear stains on his cheeks. He wanted to cry, he just couldn't. The handle on his emotional tap had rusted stiff years ago.
Timothy's ears flattened against his yellow fur as cubbish laughter cut through the babbling brook of playground conversation.
'Yeah good one Luke... eew gross you're still going eat that.'
Timothy started breathing again as his muscles relaxed. He was not the target in the crosshairs, not this time. His long tail slipped through the gap in the slats and swung up between his legs. He grabbed at the white tip with his paw, running his fingers through the fur until reaching the black stripes. Timothy didn't know why but playing with his tail always made him feel better. He leaned over and gave the tip a sniff before wetting the fur with his tongue.
'Hey look Chee-tubby's licking himself again.'
The crosshairs locked onto Timothy and a barrage of laughter launched from every cub in the playground. Timothy almost cried out as their sonic charges blasted through his fur. Could he get any dumber. Bunny's law dictated that they would see, so why did he do it. Maybe, he wanted them to laugh. At least it meant that he wasn't totally invisible. So what if it did make him wish that his heart would just stop beating.
At least there were only two subjects to go before the end of school. Then an hour bus trip to his stop, and a short car ride home with Mum. She would ask how his day was, he would lie. Then he would be free. He would go to his room, turn on the telly and lick his tail all he wanted. Unless his mother caught him, then she would grab his tail and soak it in that horrible tasting liquid that would burn his throat. He didn't care if she did that today, he would lick it anyway.
'Excuse me, anyone sitting here?'
'Why?' asked Timothy looking up.
It was that new cub, a raccoon he never bothered learning the name of.
'My feet need a rest.'
'There are plenty of other benches you could...'
The raccoon sat down next to him. Timothy decided to ignore him and went back to staring at his paws.
'Name's Zack, your Timothy right?'
'Where did you learn my name?' he asked not bothering to lift his head.
'That's what they told me.'
Timothy looked up at the raccoon, 'That's not what they call me.'
'No it isn't,' agreed Zack, 'I had to ask several cubs multiple times before they would tell me what your real name was.'
'Why?'
'Why what?'
'Why would you bother going to all the effort when not even the teachers call me Timothy.'
'Because it's your name silly,' giggled Zack.
Timothy stared at the raccoon. Just what was he up to. Was this some sort of initiation ritual: go speak to the weird cub, make sure you don't catch any of his fat germs.
'What do you want?' growled Timothy.
Zack looked genuinely surprised by Timothy's tone. The raccoon's face then softened and Timothy could see tears forming in Zack's eyes.
'My older brother used to do that, lick his tail. They used to laugh at him. They don't laugh anymore. He doesn't lick his tail anymore. He doesn't do anything anymore.'
Zack looked over at Timothy.
'I wanna be friends. I wanna be there for you so that you won't want to lick your tail, so that you won't want to...'
Timothy had zoned out as soon as Zack had mentioned the word friend. Cubs had said that before. They had come over to his house, had seen what they wanted and delivered their findings to the entire playground.
'You don't believe me do you?'
'No I don't,' replied Timothy.
'Danny, my brother, he stopped believing me in the end. Please give me the chance to prove it to you.'
Zack looked like he was about to cry again. Timothy had no reason to trust the raccoon, didn't know anything about him. He had trusted other cubs before.
'Hey Zack, why are you talking to Chee-tubby for?'
'Watch this.'
Timothy looked on as Zack swung his tail up between his legs, grabbed hold of the bushy tip and...
'Hey look, Zacky likes sucking himself too!'
Zack's cheeks took on a reddish tint as he faced their cubbish laughter.
'Why did you just committed social suicide?'
Zack flinched at that last word, 'because what they think of me doesn't matter. What you think, that matters.'
Timothy just stared at the raccoon.
'So will you give me a chance? Please.'
Timothy nodded. He couldn't very well say no, not after that.
'Good, what's your number? Oh and before you ask why, I want to call you tonight silly.'
Zack pulled out his mobile and they exchanged numbers.
'I usually don't turn it on, so any idea what time you'll call?'
'What time do you get home?'
'Around five.'
'I'll call you at 5:29 exactly. If I haven't called by 5:30 you can switch off your phone.'
The bell rang and Timothy slowly rose from the bench. To his surprise, Zack stayed right by his side as they walked over to the classroom door to lined up. The other cubs gave Zack weird looks, some even giggled. Zack had cemented his place on the bottom run along side Timothy. He glanced at Zack, the raccoon he had huge smile on his face. Apparently, Zack didn't seem to care, not one little bit.
© Timidus 2011 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.