AllFreeNovel
Share Us
11
ALEKSANDAR
BULGARIA. 11 YEARS OLD
Uncle Krasimir was dead. It was the only logical conclusion. When people died, they left and didn’t come back. When his grandmother died, she didn’t have time to say goodbye. Death was the only thing that would have made his uncle leave him. He was sure of it.
Enough time passed that one afternoon, when Aleksandar went into his uncle’s closet, he couldn’t smell him anymore. He ripped every item of clothing from their hangers and upended each of his uncle’s dresser drawers, but there wasn’t a trace of his uncle left. He sat on top of the pile of clothing and didn’t stop crying until his mother brought him back to his bed.
After what felt to a lonely boy like an eternity later, but was really only several months, Aleksandar had his first taste of freedom. School let out early and Aleksandar’s teacher was too preoccupied with scolding Grigor, who had punched Darian, to notice Aleksandar slip out through the doors without waiting for his escort.
His father would be furious with the teacher, and he felt a twinge of guilt, but he was never allowed to be alone anywhere except for his own house, or when he snuck to his uncle’s.
On his way home, Aleksandar walked along the shady path that followed the river dividing his family’s property from his uncle’s. Birds chirped in the trees and shook the leaves where they landed. The river babbled merrily, unseen behind a copse of birch trees and curtains of overhanging willows bordering the shore.
Above the din of the gently rumbling water, Aleksander heard his uncle's voice.
He must have imagined it. His uncle was dead.
But the voice sounded so much like his uncle that he had to check. He ducked under a tree branch and pushed past smaller sharp branches that clutched at his clothes. A thick bramble of blackberry bushes blocked his view. He was about to turn back, but then he heard the voice again, raised this time.
“I’m not leaving without Aleksandar.”That was definitely his uncle’s voice.
“He’s not yours to take,” said his father.
Something splashed violently. There was a strange hollow thundering that reminded Aleksandar of the time his uncle took him to the sea. The beach had been covered in lemon-sized rocks all the way to the water line, and when Aleksandar tried to get close to the water, the smooth rocks were surprisingly painful under the arches of his feet. He had been disappointed that the beach wasn’t sandy like the ones he’d seen on TV. But then the sea drew back, and the waves carried the rocks with them, and the roar of the rocks as they tumbled over each other was so beautiful, he didn’t mind.
Aleksandar crashed through the thicket, desperate to see his uncle once more. Thorns pricked his cheeks as he squeezed through a narrow gap and the riverbank finally came into view. Rays of sunlight beamed down onto the water, sparkling so brightly, it momentarily blinded him.
Then he saw his father. Aleksandar darted behind the bush and peeked around to watch him.
His father was standing in the river, fully dressed as he bent over with his hands thrust into the water that went up to his knees. The muscles in his arms strained, like he was trying to pull something very heavy out of the water.
Behind his father, something thrashed and water splashed so violently it reached Aleksandar where he hid. Nothing made sense until he found the source of the splashing. Shoes. For a brief moment, Aleksandar wondered why his uncle would be swimming with his shoes on until it all snapped into place like a zap of electricity.
His uncle wasn’t swimming and his father wasn’t trying to lift something from the water and the sound of the river rocks knocking together was because his uncle was scrambling to stand. Hands reached from the water and scratched at his father’s arms, but his father only forced his uncle under the water more violently.
Aleksandar lurched forward, his mouth opened to tell his father to stop. His uncle always said he should be brave, that he should do what was right even when it was scary, even when it was hard.Fear is only proof you are alive.But he was too afraid. His voice wouldn’t work and he was paralyzed in place.
Then, the splashing stopped and the sound of rocks knocking against each other stopped and the silence was eerily still. Aleksandar’s father spat into the water and sound came back all at once, like waves crashing forward onto the shore. Inside Aleksandar’s mind, everything sounded red, like a river of blood leading to an ocean of rage that would one day rise up and swallow his father.
His father struggled to catch his breath, his hands on his knees, before he straightened and wiped the back of his handover the sweat on his brow. He sloshed through the river to the opposite bank and disappeared into the forest on the other side.
Aleksandar ran to his uncle and tried to pull him from the shallow water, but his uncle was too heavy and he wasn’t strong enough. He pinched his uncle’s nose closed, put his mouth over his lips, and breathed air into him the way he’d seen it done on TV, but his uncle’s chest did not rise.
He tried again and again and again while the current moved around them, the water babbling cheerfully against the rocks on the shore. The sun continued to shine. Offensively. It should have been mourning. It should have gone out like a snuffed candle, instead of stubbornly burning the skin on the back of his neck.
Aleksandar shivered so hard his teeth chattered, and his clothes were heavy with water, but he didn’t stop trying to bring his uncle back. Not until he heard voices, and footsteps. His father’s men.
Uncle Krasimir was dead. Aleksandar was too weak to save him. He looked at his uncle one last time—his eyes were made even bluer as he stared sightlessly up at the cloudless sky—then turned, and ran. He ran without seeing, without hearing, without thinking until he reached his uncle’s house.
Aleksandar didn’t deserve to ever step foot in his uncle’s home again, but his uncle’s was the only safe place he’d ever known, the only home he’d ever had. Aleksandar couldn’t bear to return to his uncle’s closet, so instead he slipped into the workshop and crawled under a large painting leaning against the wall. He cried until he had no more tears left and then he decided he would never cry again.
Aleksandar did not practice the piano that day. He hoped his uncle would understand.
12
IAN
