Courage and Cowardice-Chapter I

Chapter I

We were going to kill ourselves. That was the idea. That was the plan. We drove three miles out of Derry, the thick shadowing evergreens blocking the afternoon sun as I drove. They cooled the air that whipped our hair from the open windows, giving away how fast we were really going. Not that I had a clue how fast that was. I glanced at the dial. I stared at the dial. Just couldn’t see it, at all. Everything was blurred, apart from the road ahead and her hand on the gear stick, knuckles clenched a deathly white, contrasting with that final black of the warm plastic.

Slowly, I lifted my hand off the wheel, checking her in my peripheral vision, it crept closer to her warmth, needing to feel that comfort and safety, wanting to be her security, and her protector. An electric bolt ran from her skin, knocking roughly into my heart. In that same heartbeat my hand returned to the steering wheel, my eyes wide and fixed on the curves ahead.

Five bends later, as planned, I touched her hand again and the same bolt struck my arm, yanking the hand away, and towards the wheel. She shifted from second gear into first, slowing the car. I looked around; ahead a pinkish sky, roughly the colour of Faolan’s lips, the sun was setting and soon the dark would take us. I saw the cove in the hill side, still covered with elevated evergreens, looming menacingly above us on the road. In any other state of mind I would have felt the need to carry on driving, or turn around, whichever took us further. But I wasn’t in that state of mind.

Pulling into the alcove I pressed gently on the clutch, feeling my cooling blood pool into both feet as forced my other foot onto the brake. Faolan had the gear, pulling it out of first with a steady hand, leaving it lying against the stick, and I had the hand brake. Stationary. We didn’t move, somehow grasping at the seats we sat on, even though we were not panicking at all, clawing at the locks, fixing them into place just like we did with our minds, closing them out, and locking us in. This was the point in the book for me, the point when you learnt what you had known all along, your hero, your friend, his life was about to change in so many ways and you knew once he’d accepted the challenge or taken the expectations, that was the point of no return. And now I was there with Faolan, our whole intact.

“Connor,” her soft whispers slipped into the silence, stirring the maddening jolt of what we were about to do. I looked at her and I was seeing the future. The sky was not tinged with pink like Faolan’s lips. Her lips were a mockery of the darkened, bloodied lips they should be, they had become paler, closer to the cream of her skin than any shade of pink. But there was no cream; healthy looking skin on her, like her lips, her skin had also decided it was dead, now just waiting for the rest of her body to catch up. But it would, soon.

I didn’t talk, I didn’t want to. Instead I took her hand, noticing how much warmer the shift stick was than she. The wintriness of her hand still sent a shock coursing through my body, rushing like the heady blood in my mind, straight to my heart. It panged at the thought of Faolan becoming like this; cold, stiff, a soulless corpse.

But she wanted this because I wanted this. We were hooked to each other, and although she struggled against is, she found herself caught and attached, and just like the fish that takes the bait there is no escape. It must either surrender or rips itself apart attempting to.

Slowly I pulled her hand towards my lips and planted an equally un-dead kiss upon her. Watching wet eyes, I let her go that moment of despair and terror ceasing her eyes. I smiled to reassure her that I was there, and would always be, as far as she was concerned.

One last glance at the coral-coloured sun, another simple, yet pleasant memory to take into the dark, less there be no light when we fall.

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Her football class was nearly over, just five more minutes; surely I can hold out five more minutes. I tapped on the dashboard, my impatience increasing with the rate of my drumming fingers. I sighed heavily, looking to my left. Down the hill filed a team of females, arranged in pairs and triplets. Mostly wearing tight tops and short shorts, they sauntered slowly across the front of the car, talking of lessons, teachers they liked and disliked, who they’d screw, why they wouldn’t. Towards the back Faolan ambled with a group of five, disappointingly wearing a large baggy school football shirt and shorts that fit. I honked the horn, keen to get going. She smiled when she found me, waiting in the car, but it didn’t lift my mood.

My fingers continued to drum, finding themselves at the wheel now. I stared into the abyss of the steering wheel, its black consuming me in a passionate hug that said: don't let go, don't leave me, stay here in my warm embrace. I wanted it to hold me tighter, let no interruptions intrude this security of my lack of feelings. Numbness, it felt good, it was a relief, the painkiller for my aching mind, my adored yet pestered heart. However I couldn’t be sure I wasn’t the one screaming don’t let go, don't leave me. In my mind it felt like a soft, caressing whisper on the side of my cheek, warm breath in my ear, pleasantly comforting. Though I suppose, typically, we were interrupted. The clunk of the door on the frame jump started my consciousness, Faolan’s warm smile, for one moment, enticing my own slight grin, until I remembered myself and became the man for whom happiness just slipped by.

I looked ahead, almost ignoring her completely I started the car and began driving into the sun, beautiful, but it broke and left in tatters the abyss that felt more like home than any other place could. In its evening state I could almost see the pink of her lips in the dusk. I looked at the light it cast on the streets and gardens, the selfless giving of warmth and adoration to the blossoming trees, opening flowers, and ghostly looking children. In ways the sun was like my Faolan. Light, open, distant, warm and giving, loving and inspiring. I looked at her now, smiling softly at the trailer in her mind, I wondered what it was she was seeing.

We stopped at a temporary traffic light at road works; we could be here some time. Out of habit I drummed the steering wheel. She sighed.
“So, was football any good?” I asked.
“Yeah, great thanks. I reckon we stand a chance of getting to the finals this year, some of the year tens aren’t half bad. Oh and Rosie stepped down as captain too.” She replied, trying to get more input from me. She wasn’t going to get one. “So, I put my name down.” She’d get the message soon; it wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to her, I wanted her to talk. She and my abyss were my comfort zones, just to stare into the black road ahead, or lose my thoughts in her soft lilt was bliss, where i could really fine myself, and have some of there little happiness back for awhile.
“Hey,” she whispered softly, smoothing my hair back from my face. The lights changed.
“Bugger!”
“What's wrong?”
“The lights changed.” I leant in quickly to press my lips to her jugular, chuckling to myself when her heartbeats knocked against my lips.

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I walked slowly to her side of the car, admiring the tap of my feet against the crumbling tarmac, the soft footfalls when my feet found the damp earth of the alcove, the matt, harsh feel of the paint on the car when my nails scraped against it.

She looked at me hollowly through the car window, her eyes wide and puppy like. I smiled lightly; she still looked as pretty even though she was uncomfortably close to death. A gentleman to the end I opened her door, offering her my hand to help her out. I was getting used to the clammy chill of her hand when she took it. Not bothering to shut the door I led her on the earthy path into the looming darkness.

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Instead of taking the right turn onto our street, I flicked the left indicator on and took the car down the solitary road that would eventually lead to our sanctuary.
“Connor, where are we going?” she inquired playfully, a little smirk growing on her face.
“You know where.” I said laughing huskily, I was sure she'd pick it up from my voice.
“No I don't. Where?” her voice raised in pitch as she began to implore me, “Please, please, please, please Connor.” Giggles followed, “Tell me Connor! Please?”
“One more word from you madam and I’ll turn round and we’ll go home, is that what you want?” I chastened her with a stern, commanding voice. She knew what was coming.

The rest of the journey she sat mostly in silence, humming or singing to a song she recognised on the radio. When we were about two more minutes from our destination I turned it off, knowing this would heighten our senses to the warm, buzzing electric charge that surrounded us. I stopped the car and looked over at her; I could see the same want in me mirrored in her eyes. With our nerves jangling at the possibilities about to occur we jumped out of the car.

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In her hand I could feel the blood racing through her. Faolan’s heart must have been beating so fast, trying to complete the number of beats it should do in a life time. She was only sixteen; I was cutting her life short by at least four fifths. And how many beats would her heart have done in those sixty years she could have had, could have had if she hadn’t met me.

The trail stopped in front of a large oak tree.
“I suppose people stop here for picnics and stuff.” She said, her voice trembling in every syllable, tears streaming with each word. Seeing her like this my heart cramped. I looked at her feet, how far they had come just to be with me always, how far they had travelled just to please me. I hated myself. I stared disgraced and miserable at my own feet. What kind of a monster could bring such an innocent heart and a beautiful face to an end like this? What monster could destroy such an insignificant yet wonderful creation? This monster could, I could.