26

  Cody

  I wanted to play things natural around Christian. I wanted to be, maybe, the one person who treated him like nothing happened. Maybe a sense of normalcy could be what got him out of this pit he felt like he had dug himself in. We finished the last of our review for the current unit in Mrs. Pate’s English class, The Once and Future King. Christian had been one of the few students who had read the text to completion. About halfway through part three the ongoing slog of that thousand-page tome had just become too much for most of us and we resorted to a hasty combination of Wikipedia and CliffsNotes. Even then I still couldn’t make heads or tails of the ending.

  After the bell rang Christian who had taken to sitting as close to the door and as far away from any other student as he could, grabbed his bag and rushed out to find another one of those little holes to crawl in and take a breather before he was subjected to yet another hour and a half of judgmental looks, and muted laughs behind his back.

  I found Christian, I approached him like I would anytime I wanted to catch up in the hallway between third and fourth period. Whether it was to regal a great adventure Somewhere Else or to plan another one, or if it was just to catch up, maybe schedule a study session either Somewhere Else, the library after school, or at just my place. I came to him like I always did, as a friend, and from a place of kindness.

  “Hey, Christian, what’s up man, hanging in there?” I asked, keeping my shoulders high and my smile wide. Trying to show him that at least one person in this world wasn’t looking on him with derision or scold.

  Christian sighed, and sunk against the wall, “Long day,” he said, I hadn’t heard his voice this defeated since he was that shy kid I strong armed into helping me cheat on an English test what felt like so long ago.

  “Buck up, it’s two months, you got this man,” I said, trying to reassure him as I always did.

  “Two months, yeah, just two months,” he closed his eyes and shuddered at the thought of another long two months in his own personal hell.

  “Hey, don’t think about it,” I tried to reassure him, “Come on, if you just pretend like nothing happened, and don’t let them get to you, people are going to forget, this is high school, people forget shit so much faster than you think,” I said, “So let’s forget it, I wanted to ask you something,” I said, “About English,” I tried to change the topic of conversation, change it to something I knew he was interested in, something that he could focus on and forget about all the awfulness he was dealing with.

  “So Once and Future King, you read whole book, right?” I asked. I saw him look up, and a smile I couldn’t tell was forced or not came across his face.

  “Yeah, I read it, I mean I re-read it for class, but I read it when I was like fourteen over a summer,” he said.

  “It’s fresh in your mind, awesome,” I bucked up my own cheer hoping I could create some kind of emotional feedback loop with my friend, “I had a question about the ending, I’ve read CliffsNotes and every summary online I could find, even watched a few you tube videos, and it’s still flying way over my head,” I said.

  “What about it? Let me guess, because there’s no final battle?” Christian asked.

  “Yeah,” I raised my hands in confusion, “You have this whole story, this whole guy’s life we’ve been following since he was like nine, and you have all this build up to this huge battle that’s supposed to happen and it just kind of, ends, what is with that? I mean, how does something Mrs. Pate said is supposed to be one of the greatest works of English literature, where does it get off just ending? And on cliffhanger of all things?”

  “Well it’s not exactly a cliffhanger, it’s unresolved sure, well, not really,” Christian stroked his chin, contemplated for a moment, it felt like I had finally given him someone to bounce ideas off of in a debate his mind had no doubt been having with only itself about that particular prolific literary work, “The book does, as any literary work of value does, give its primary thesis in its ending, how Arthur talks of peace as a candle in the wind, a bright fire that must be shielded and protected, constantly, always in danger of the forces of the natural world, the natural inclinations of man, blowing it away, that’s why the last section is called The Candle in the Wind. Arthur knows he has to fight this battle, he has to hold his hand in front of the candle, even though in its reckless waxing and waiving he could be burned, he could be killed, well that last bit is my own interpretation of the metaphor,” he said.

  God, he was so brilliant, the things a mind like that could have done in this world had it existed in some other place in history and not been saddled with the bullshit hand it was dealt.

  “I guess that makes sense, when you put it like that.”

  “It doesn’t matter what the ending is, even if you know it,” Christian looked away.

  “What do you mean? If you know it?” I asked.

  “T.H. White didn’t just make up Arthur out of whole cloth, the Arthurian legend dates back over a thousand years before his time, in fact the story was collected in an even older text, Le’Morte De Arthur,” Christian said, taking a deep breath.

  “Wait, I know a little Latin, I took it in ninth grade but flunked and had to change my language credit to Spanish, Morte, that means-”

  “Death,” Christian said, “The story is literally called the Death of Arthur, Arthur dies in end, he dies and yet the world keeps turning, the world doesn’t descend into darkness, he dies leaving behind the memory of what a hero is, knowing that someday another hand would rise to guard the candle in the wind,” Christian said.

  “Wait he dies? All that, and Mordred just wins? Oh man,” I had a realization, “Is that why they call it the dark ages, because Arthur lost, and Mordred ruled for a time? Wow, that makes sense actually, I got to read this book, I mean actually read it, I think I’ll head to the mall and pick up a copy, little summer reading project before college,” I smiled, gave Christian a pat on the shoulder, “Hey, we can compare notes, have a rousing debate, that’ll be fun, right?”

  “Hate to spoil it, but Mordred doesn’t win either, no one wins in the end,” Christian said.

  “Wait, then what happens?” I asked.

  “Arthur parlayed with Mordred before the battle, they negotiated, even with all their hatred for each other they came to terms of peace, they found an agreement that worked for both of them,” Christian said, shrugging his shoulders “It’s really messed up, but pretty ironic what happens next,” he said.

  “What happens, if they came to peace how did both of them end up still dying?” I was on the edge of my seat, not only legitimately interested in this little English lit lesson, but hoping, praying, that getting his mind on something he enjoyed would be that little push Christian needed to pull him from the depression that was beset on all sides around him.

  “Well, the two armies meet, so the respective generals can negotiate the terms of the peace. Then a snake slithers on the ground, slides up through Mordred’s army, one of Mordred’s soldiers sees the snake, and out of simple, innocent, panic draws his sword. Some of Arthur’s soldiers see this act of aggression so they draw their swords, which in turn makes more of Mordred’s soldiers draw their swords. The two sides, unable to hear the private conversation and negotiation of their generals, eventually all have their swords drawn and then they charge at each other. The battle ensues, Arthur is killed, Mordred is killed, and, for the next few centuries at least, the candle is blown out,” Christian smiled, “Sorry to spoil things for you,” he said.

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  “That’s actually, really epic,” I said, “That’s Beowulf epic,” I said, referencing the only work I read in Mrs. Pate’s class and legitimately enjoyed.

  Christian looked away. His smile faded to an almost forced grin. I may have cheered him up for a moment, but a fun literary analysis can only go so far when dealing with all the bullshit he was dealing with, “So I was talking to Susie earlier, she said that we should all head Somewhere Else this weekend, we talked about having an adventure, nothing epic, nothing Beowulf epic at least, just something simple, something easy, earn some coin, have some fun, that sound good to you?” Christian smiled.

  “Yeah man, that sounds great,” I nodded, “A fun adventure, something easy, like that time we found the golden goose and saved it from that town trying to kill it,” I said, “Remember the look on that poor farmer’s face, the one who’s cattle herd got rustled by some brigands, we gave him an infinite supply of gold, we did good over there, we’ve done a lot of good over there,” I said.

  “I have an idea. Maybe we should try to find the ocean? I mean, the fields, the mountains, they all look so beautiful, imagine how beautiful the ocean over there must be. I haven’t even seen this world’s ocean, but I bet it’s nothing compared to Somewhere Else’s Ocean.

  Looking back on our time there, after seeing what Christian ended up doing near the end of this story. I suspect that in our journeys, whenever we met a princess who had already found her Prince Charming, Christian went back to that well-worn copy of the Grimm Fairytales he owned, and took a big black maker and X’d out the blushing former bachelorette’s story from it. Be it Snow White, Rapunzel, or Cinderella, even before we got there, Prince Charming’s were seeking out their princesses and winning their love. Christian, as we found out, was indeed looking for his own princess. We should have seen that he abandoned the idea of finding his own princess in his own world after that night at the party. Now that I think about it, his best bet probably would have been trying to find that one Princess made famous for finding love kissing a frog. I actually remember that story from English class.

  I wondered if Christian’s wish to see the ocean was some desperate attempt to find the Little Mermaid before some seafaring Lord’s son convinced her to kill herself to save his own sorry ass. For those of you who haven’t read it, the Grimm’s interpretation of The Little Mermaid is much darker than the adventures of Ariel and Eric fighting a wannabee drag queen while crabs and flounders sing about the beauty of living in the world you were born in. All the Grimm stories had a touch of darkness The Mouse edited out, but that one in particular makes me wonder how The Mouse even thought it could wring a children’s movie out of it in the first place.

  “Hey, there’s lots of places to meet girls, not just there,” I said. I knew as it was coming out of my mouth, I shouldn’t have said it, I shouldn’t have given Christian another reminder of how fucked he was in this place.

  “What do you mean?” Christian asked, “What are you even talking about?”

  “College, even if it’s State, girls from schools all over Nebraska, girls from schools where no one knows anything about you, girls you can have a fresh start with, girls you can amaze, girls you can wow, girls who won’t give a damn about the petty politics of this place,” I looked around the white plaster walls, “You can be a new man,” I gulped, I really did just want to try to cheer him up, I didn’t mean to have this conversation turn serious. “I know your world feels so fucked being trapped in these white plaster walls, you love exploring Somewhere Else, you love finding new things over there, new experiences, soon, very soon, you’re going to have the chance to do that in this world too,” I reached out and put my hand on Christian’s shoulder, forced him to look at me. Not hard, I didn’t rip him to me like I was trying to scream a truth in his face, I just gently pulled him to look at his friend face to face, “You’ll find a princess, I promise Christian, you’ll find your princess,” I said.

  “They’re all already taken, Snow White, Rapunzel, even over there,” he shook his head, “Even over there every girl I meet is already taken, all of that world’s princesses are taken how am I supposed to think all of this world’s aren’t as well, princesses, the perfect woman, and this world has its share of prince charmings as well. I can’t compete with them over there, what makes you think I can compete with them over here,” he said.

  “I want to tell you a story, about a girl, a girl named Cassie,”

  “The Cheer Capitan?” he asked.

  “Yeah, we were actually neighbors when we were young, when we were so young,” I said, “Our parents were friends, which meant we were friends, and we were for a time,” I took a deep breath, “I told her I was going to marry her, I was five years old,” I said.

  “What happened?” Christian asked.

  “We grew up, we grew apart, I was pretty skinny as a boy, a bit lanky really. She was always so pretty, when we were five, before school, before the competition of dozens of other boys, when I was the only boy she knew. Being that she didn’t know any other boys, she said she wanted to marry me too,” I said. “Then we started school, we started this,” I looked around at the white plaster walls that were as much a prison for the rest of us as they were for Christian, though a slightly less harrowing one than it was for him. “Every boy was after her, we stayed friends though, at least we tried. In kindergarten, the other little boys made fun of me for having a girl as a best friend, and the other little girls made fun of her for wanting to take naptime next to a dirty, cootie-ridden boy, so we grew apart,” I wasn’t holding some grudge over these events, these events didn’t matter to me. These were just things that happened to children as they grew up. “Her dad got a job at a good company, a company that put him in a income bracket that let him move his family to the rich part of town, so we stopped being able to see each other outside school, and we just kind of drifted,” I said.

  “I’m sorry,” Christian said, looking down, feeling bad that I was confessing the spoiled beginnings of what he must have thought could have been a grand epic romance of lifelong love, a love pure and true, a love like he so desperately wanted.

  “Sorry? No, Christian, you’re missing my point, it doesn’t bother me, it doesn’t bother me at all. That’s just how life is here,” I said, “Things happen, sometimes they are things we control, and sometimes they’re not, the point is. I was a boy who thought he found his princess, but I was wrong. You don’t need to find a princess, and a girl doesn’t need a prince. It doesn’t matter if you’re not a prince, and she’s not a princess, you don’t need to obsess over this idea, this fantasy. When I say you’ll find your princess, I don’t mean you’ll literally find a princess, that you’ll find your one true love that defies all emotions and obstacles of this world. What I’m saying is that, when you find a girl, a girl, not a princess, a girl, a girl who gets you, a girl that you get, it won’t matter that you’re not a prince, and it won’t matter that she isn’t a princess, when you find that girl, she’ll become a princess, your princess, no one else's,” I said, a thought of Susie ran through my mind at this moment. Were we a prince and princess? Hell no. I’m no Prince Charming, and she was far from a Cinderella or a Snow White. Not to her detriment, but to her praise. In that time, when I was younger, young, and dumb, Susie was more beautiful to me than any princess could ever hope to be, “You know everything about the Grimm stories, right?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Christian looked down.

  “And you love the stories where the prince finds his princess, right?” I asked.

  “They’re the best,” he said with a forlorn look in his eyes.

  “I know some of those stories too, don’t think about it like Snow White or Cinderella, let me try to put this in a way you understand, think of the Frog Prince,” I said, “The Prince doesn’t find and rescue the princess, the princess finds and rescues the frog,” I said.

  “It’s a bit more complicated than that actually, you see-”

  “I know the gist of the story, just hear me out, it doesn’t matter if you’re a prince who can just find a princess to kiss, sometimes, you need to wait for a princess to find you, and you need to wait for that princess to kiss you, and then she’ll turn you into a prince,” I said, “You can have that,” I said, “Christian, as awful as things are for you right now, I swear to you, you don’t need to kill yourself trying to find a princess, for all you know, for all anyone knows, someday a princess might find you, and even though you think you’re no better than a toad, even though you think you’re a disgusting swamp creature no one can love, that princess is going to kiss you, and you’ll be able to become the prince we know you can be,” I said.

  I saw Christian’s lip quiver, I saw a single tear run down from his closed eyes and over his cheek, he said nothing. I just gave him a hug and patted his back, “It’s going to work out, friend, it’s going to work out,” I said, trying to reassure him as the bell for fourth period rang.