The moonlight almost did not penetrate through the narrow lancet windows of the medieval Bohemian church. Small candles dimly lit old frescoes depicting Saints. The church was quiet and deserted. Only an old priest was dozing over his book. Almost noiselessly the door opened, letting in an icy wind. The young man lingered in the doorway, as if thinking of his next move, and then closed the door and went along the aisle straight to the altar. Snowflakes sparkled in his blond hair and melted, leaving wet stains on his white coat. In his hand, he carried a long canvas package. The sound of his footsteps echoed from the stonewalls. The man knelt before the altar, put the package in front of him and unfolded the cloth. Ancient sword with engraved words glistened in the candlelight. The young man folded his hands, bowed his head to the side and looked at the image of the crucified Christ.

“So here I came to you,” he said in English with a slight German accent. His voice was quiet. “You know, this time I did everything I could.” He fell silent, thinking of something, but then spoke again. “I want to ask you only one thing — take care of them.”

I was born on a cold rainy day in October of the year nineteen eighty six. My mother told me once in a fit of candor how she was getting to the hospital that day, in a pouring rain, all by herself, just because the father worked. As usual. As long as I remember him, he was always working, day and night. Days, he spent at timber-works, nights he served as loading hands at several companies. Of course, with such a schedule, he didn’t have time to give it to his family. As for my mother, she wrote for the local newspaper, giving tips on how to build relationships or grow gladioli. Here’s a perfect example — to give advice you don’t have to be specialist in something. In our family, everyone was on their own; actually, we were not even a family in its primary sense — just a collection of people under the same roof.

So, no wonder that I became a troubled teen in a sort of way. I was not a brawler or a drug addict. Oh, no. I studied well and came home on time. My whole “trouble” was that nobody knew how to communicate with me. People around me were so boring that I kept silent most of the time simply not understanding why bother open your mouth at all to discuss such simple things as weather, football or the film I had watched last Sunday. In a sort of way I was a rebel, I didn’t give a damn to the public opinion. I was living in my own world with my own rules. I did what I wanted and the way I wanted.

The only person, who could bear me, was Sunny. His real name was Robert, but nobody, neither his parents, nor the teachers, called him like that. I don’t remember how did he get this nickname — Sunny. Maybe because of his red hair and freckles.

Sunny was pretending to be a pacifist and always stayed away of any conflicts. It was so important for him that everybody adored him! And people did adore him! Positive, friendly, like a ray of sunshine in this gray world. The first and the last mask he had to try on.

Nobody understood why he connected with me. It seemed we had nothing in common, but it was not true. Our wild imagination gave no rest to his parents. They scolded him, put under house arrest, prohibited to communicate with me and watch TV. My parents, in general, had little interest in my life. It was good enough if I came home before dinner or, at least, before breakfast.

We lived in southern Germany, in a small house in the outskirts on the edge of the forest. Here we spent our childhood. At dawn, Sunny and I took bikes and went into the woods. We built a hut, filled it with some stuff, like dishes, blankets and even some food. We made ​​a fire and cooked fish that we caught in the Danube. Once, after reading “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn”, we built a raft and wanted to take a journey by the river, but it fell apart after a couple of miles. It was a miracle that we managed to get back to the shore. I remember I feared the water perhaps for a month.

Actually, we made a lot of wild things. We jumped off the roof, just for a bet and always went around with skinned knees and elbows. We were riding bikes like madmen trying to find out who was the fastest. We were shooting birds with wyes. Once Sunny took his father’s air rifle and we shot a thrush. It was so small, so defenseless. I remember very well that moment of first acquaintance with death. And that strange feeling of pity and frustration, and the question: why? Just like that? For fun? But there was nothing funny, it seemed too cruel. We buried the thrush and since then never hunted animals. At least, then, in the childhood, together.

Sunny was kind of leader among the two of us, but I tried to keep up the pace. Looking back at those days, I notice that Sunny was always walking a tightrope, always tempting fate. Who knows if he had a real chance to get old.

When we have slightly grown up, we started playing football at the school backyard with other guys, but I did not make friends with them and did not share their interests. To tell the truth I was not really fascinated by kicking the ball. Much more interesting for me was to sit in the early morning on the rocky shore of the Danube covered with milk haze and dream about the future.

“When I grow up,” Sunny told me. “I’m gonna become an archaeologist like Indiana Jones,” his eyes gleamed when he talked about it. “I will hunt for artifacts and get into adventures.” I was dreaming, that in a couple of years I would find some job and move away from parents, start making money, first to buy a car and then I would meet a beautiful girl and marry her. And my life will be ordinary and simple, as it should be. What a naivety! Sunny’s head was always in the clouds, but I stood firmly on the ground. I was convinced that miracles never happen to those who are waiting for them. I could only rely on myself and was almost ready to live a long and boring life, like my parents did and their parents before them, and their grandparents, and so on to Adam, or from whom we descend.

Life went on, and when we were fourteen we fell in love with one and the same girl. Her name is Anna. She came from Berlin. She was fostered by her grandfather, after her parents died in a car crash. Anna’s life was tough, but she didn’t give up. She was always smiling. I still remember that cloudy winter morning when she first walked into our class. She seemed to come from some other world: her cheeks were rosy from cold, her big blue eyes were shining and sandy-colored curls were covered with snowflakes. And her smile… For that smile I was ready to give everything in the world, if only she smiled at me.

Sunny was the first to make friends with her. At break, he sat down at her desk and they started laughing at something. That upset me so much that after classes I caught him at the school backyard and nailed him to the wall ready to give him a fight.

“Leave Annie, find some other girl”.

“But I like this girl,” he pushed me slightly, but I continued to hold him by the collar of his jacket.

“I like her too”.

“You will never come up to her!” Sunny pushed harder, so I almost lost my balance. “You will never do anything,” he pushed again. “You’ll better suffer alone than come up to her…”

And then I hit him. For the first time in my life. With my fist. Right into his face. He was taken aback and looked at me surprised. But I was in fury and struck him again, and only then he hit back. His first blow landed on my jaw, second — somewhere near my eyebrow. We fell down. We were fighting each other with variable success until were both exhausted. Sunny was the first to give up. He sat leaning against the wall, breathing heavily. His jacket was torn and missing one button. The blood dried up on his broken lip. I guess I looked no better. Besides the jaw started to hurt, it seemed that he really knocked it.

“Gosh, you surprised me,” Sunny said. “I couldn’t imagine you can do anything like that. Because of a girl,” he smiled.

“I said I like her,” I sat beside him. My anger passed away and I even fell some kind of moral satisfaction. I guess I really needed to blow off steam. “I’ll ask her for a dance on St. Valentine’s Day.”

“Deal,” said Sunny and held out his hand. “Peace?”

“Peace,” I shook his hand. “I’m sorry.”

Suddenly I felt ashamed. He is my best friend, always together and all that, and I’m behaving like this. Who knows, what if I didn’t let go off my feelings and there could be something between him and Anna. Everything could be different.

“It’s OK. Still it was cool to fight with you,” he smiled. “That’s what we need friends for, right?” and we laughed.

For the St. Valentine’s Day I was preparing very thoroughly. No wonder. There was nothing more important in my life than to ask a girl for the first dance. I put on my best jeans and even ironed my shirt. Bruises on my face were almost gone and I was attractive again. At least that’s what I thought. Sunny, though formally he gave up his claims on Anna, dressed up as a bridegroom and even used some perfume.

But to our great disappointment the first dance with Anna was won by that fat guy Martin. It could be anybody, but Martin! We thought that he was the main nerd at school, mostly because he was always poking his nose everywhere and was eager to express his competent opinion, but the adults adored him. “Such a smart boy!” Yes, and prompt, he danced all night with our girl. Sunny was really amused.

“Let’s go and beat him?” He chuckled, nudging me with his elbow. “Let’s go, huh?” I knew he didn’t say that to tease me and I was no longer angry at him. But I was mad at the rest of the world and its unspeakable injustice. If only I knew then what the real injustice is. Anyway I have to say that I didn’t come up to Anna, neither at that party, nor even until the following May. But we come back to that later.

That year Sunny’s parents sent him to the summer camp somewhere near Berlin, and I stayed home. Three weeks I spent loitering around having no idea where to put myself. I was bored. Computer and TV did not fascinate me, and I didn’t read books. And then I got this idea to draw comics. I don’t remember why or how, but I started to picture beautiful Amazons, who lived in their magical world and fought with the army of demons using their magic. I bought a dozen of different comics and at first tried to imitate them, but then started to make up myself. That’s how all of a sudden I discovered the talent of artist.

Of course, I draw comics about Her. My great Warrior of Light fighting for good and justice. What an irony! Of course, I dreamed of her. Only of her. Of course, I was afraid to come up to her. Doubts… So much time wasted because of doubt and uncertainty. I was afraid of failure. What if she does not want to talk to me? What if she laughs at me? I thought I could not bear it… Now I know I can go through something much worse and survive.

But that summer everything went wrong. Sunny came back from the camp and was constantly talking about his new friends. He told me how they ran away at nights from the camp and had fun in Berlin. How they met some university guys and they helped them to get into one of the coolest clubs in the city. I was jealous and envious, I could not even dream about such adventures.

Gradually, we began to drift apart. Sunny was always hanging out with his new friends whom I did not like, and I was busy with my comic book. If I only knew how little time was left for us, I would have done anything just to spend that time with him. But I didn’t know. It seemed to me that he betrayed me. In fact, probably it was me, who betrayed him. I was too occupied with my personal drama with Anna to pay attention to his sudden and strange metamorphoses, though I noticed them almost immediately. Sunny became unsociable, his mood changed twenty times an hour. One minute he was happy and shining, the other he was depressed or even aggressive. Everyone thought he was just growing up and these are just usual teenage problems… But when the time to raise the alarm comes, it will be too late.

That day Sunny and I skipped classes. It was the end of November, and it snowed. First snow that year with such a big and fluffy snowflakes. We walked through the park. There was large and old apple garden at that time, right next to the school. Tree-lined paths, wooden benches, a pond with ducks and humpbacked bridge. It was a crowded place in summer: under every apple tree — picnics, sweethearts, artists, and those who like to read outdoors. But that day there was nobody at all. Snow was falling since morning, and the trees bowed under the white caps. Sunny was happy as a child. He was running on the fresh snow, picked it up and tossed into the air. I looked at him and laughed, but all of a sudden he fell on his knees. His shoulders were shaking. I did not see his face and at first I thought he was laughing too. It lasted probably less than a minute, but it seemed eternity. I rushed to him. He was sitting with his hands scooping snow and was looking in front of him. The tears were rolling from his eyes. For the very first time I noticed how blue his eyes were, like the sky in January. And the teardrops were just huge.

“Hey, what’s up?” I asked, sitting beside him.

There came no reaction from him. He continued to stare at one point. It seemed that he didn’t even wink.

“Sunny,” I slightly patted him on the shoulder. “Hey, what happened? Tell me.”

He closed his eyes, but didn’t make a sound. The snow kept falling down and melted on his cheeks, mingling with his tears. I was embarrassed. I have never seen him crying. We were sitting like that for a long time. My jeans were wet from the snow. His hands seemed to be freezing, as he put them into his pockets, but he didn’t change his position. I felt that I was getting cold too and already wanted to offer to go home, when Sunny spoke.

“We were at that club. Seven of us. Only me and Alex were fourteen, others were older, they study at uni. We had two girls with us. Real beauties. They bought us some beer and allowed to dance with them. We thought it was so cool and we were like adults. And then they offered us to try something interesting to have more fun…”

He paused, I patiently waited. Assumptions, one worse than another, were appearing in my mind, but I didn’t dare ask him to continue. To be honest, I just did not want to know the truth.

“They offered us some pills,” with some effort Sunny rose to his feet. His knees were wet with snow, but he didn’t even shake it off. “I couldn’t say “no”,” he said quietly and started to walk away.

I kept sitting for a while trying to reflect on his words, then I rose and went after him.

“Sunny, you…” I started to say, but couldn’t finish. He stopped and slowly turned around. I can still see that look full of despair, hopelessness and fear.

“I’m an addict, Walter,” his voice broke, he turned and ran away. I ran after him, but soon fell behind. I didn’t want to catch up with him. I wanted to wake up. I wanted this conversation never happen. I wanted last summer never happen as well. I thought my world collapsed… How wrong I was! My world would collapse a little bit later.

Well whatever, but for a while everything was as before. Once again we were playing on the network in “shooters” and “strategies”, hanging around and playing football at the backyard. We almost didn’t talk about his addiction. From time to time Sunny started to open up and said he wanted to quit, but didn’t know how. He didn’t know with whom to talk about it or who to ask for help. He was afraid that if people at school find out there would be huge scandal. At best, he would be kicked out and sent to compulsory treatment, and it would be disgrace to his whole family and to our school as well. His parents, as ill luck would have it, were too busy with their own problems. Out of the blue they decided, after fifteen years of marriage, to divorce, as the son had kind of grown up and they had their second youth. So Sunny was almost alone in this fight, and I could not give him the necessary support. After all, I was only fifteen. I had no idea what to do. Best of all we have been able to pretend that nothing was happening.

One day after school, he came up to me. His cheeks flushed, his eyes glistened, and the pupils were of incredible size.

“Come with me,” he whispered, his voice was hoarse.

“Where to?” for some reason I also spoke in a whisper.

“One dude has a party,” he moved very close to me. “I want you to meet my friends.”

“Friends?” I asked trying to step back from him. I never liked then someone violated my personal space, even if it was him.

“You don’t know them,” he moved closer, “but they are awesome.”

I took another step back and felt the wall behind me. The way to escape was closed. Sunny looked at me waiting for an answer. His breath was heavy and hot. It seemed that he had a fever. I did not want to go with him, but I agreed.

He brought me to the other part of the town. He knew the area well and had no trouble finding the way among dozens of identical apartment buildings. We went into one of them and took an elevator to the fifth floor. Corridors were bright and clean, and there were flowers in pots on window sills. Somehow I imagined such places in a completely different way. Sunny knocked one of the doors. In a moment we heard hurried footsteps, the lock clocked and some guy appeared in the doorway. He was wearing jeans, his shirt was half unbuttoned and his hair was in mess. In short, he looked like an absolutely ordinary teenager.

“Hey, duuude,” drawled the guy smiling from ear to ear and patted Sunny on the shoulder.

“This is Walter,” Sunny introduced me.

The guy nodded and let us in. Sunny took off his jacket and walked into the living room. I hesitated a bit in the hallway. I looked at my reflection in the huge mirror that hung on the wall. I regretted that I came here and it was written on my face. My pupils we almost like Sunny’s, but I was not stoned.

The apartment obviously belonged to the rich people. In the living room, furnished with beautiful and expensive furniture, there were several teenagers. The other two boys and three girls. They were about my age, well dressed. Such teens are usually called “gilded youth”, children of rich parents who have everything and they just do not know what else to do to entertain themselves. Sunny, Sunny, how did you get here? We did not belong to this circle. We did not get expensive cars and apartments in the city as birthday presents.

They were happy to see Sunny. The girls immediately fell on his neck. When did he manage to become a part of their company? I felt a twinge of jealousy. After he finished his welcoming hugs and kisses, Sunny remembered, that I was still standing beside him. He began to introduce me, but I did not even try to remember their names. I hated them. I envied them. I could barely save money to buy a motorbike, and they had everything. Of course, Sunny couldn’t miss that chance. Of course, he couldn’t refuse to be the part of that society. Did it do anything good for him? No. On the other hand, I was not a good friend either since he exchanged me for them.

They were drinking cocktails, smoking, laughing, talking about some parties, plans for the holidays and that kind of stuff. I just sat there and watched them. I had nothing to say to them, even if I wanted to. I saw them getting drunk and felt disgust. I leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes. I was dizzy from the cigarette smoke. I must have dozed off, because I was brought back into the consciousness by somebody’s screams. It was one of the girls, who screamed. She was writhing in hysterics; one of the guys was holding her trying to shut her mouth. The second girl was slowly slipping off the couch. She was standing with one knee on the floor holding her hands to the coffee table. She was incredibly pale and seemed to be suffocating. Sunny was gently supporting her. Little by little he laid the girl on the floor. She was shivering, but I was not sure she was still conscious. She stared in front of her, but seemed to see nothing. Another guy was standing next to her on his lap and tried to measure the pulse. I rushed to them, but the third guy pushed me aside. He had something in his hand that seemed to be a syringe. Sunny rose to his feet, giving way to the guy and grabbed me by the elbow. He was pulling me to the door.

“Come, we should go away,” he repeated. “They know what to do. Come. Nobody should see us here.”

Sunny slipped my jacket over my shoulders and literally pushed me out of the door. I was trying to resist and couldn’t take my eyes off what was happening in the living room. They crowded around the girl, and I saw only her pale hand on the green carpet that seemed to be absolutely lifeless.

Next day Sunny didn’t show up at school, so I decided not to wait until the end of the classes and went to his home. Sunny opened almost immediately. He seemed to be ill and exhausted, barefoot, shirtless, in worn sweat pants. Sunny looked around, as if trying to make sure that no one followed me, and let me in. Without a word, he walked into the living room and plopped down on the couch. I took off my jacket and went after him. Sunny took a clicker and began to surf channels. He seemed to be scared, concerned, perhaps, even desperate. He was tapping his fingers on the back of the couch and biting his lower lip.

“You’re alone?” I asked.

He nodded nervously, still staring at the TV screen. I stood between him and the TV. Sunny leaned to the side to see what was happening on the screen. It was rather a mechanical move than the sign of real interest.

“What happened to her?” I asked.

He slowly raised his head, looked at me and bit his lip as if pondering over what to say.

“She’s in intensive care,” he said finally.

“Will she survive?” I asked.

“Gosh, I don’t know, Walter!” He threw the TV remote and rose from the couch. “If they find out that we were there, we would have a big problem,” he began to pace the room.

“You worry about our problems?” I asked after a short pause.

“Of course!” His voice was full of despair. “And you don’t?”

“That girl almost died right in front of your eyes and you fear that someone will know we were there?” I was frustrated. Her lifeless hand still cannot come out of my head.

“To hell with her, she’s a stupid… uh,” Sunny waved his hand.

“What’s wrong with you?” I went up to him, grabbed him by the shoulders and began to shake. “Who are you and where did you get Sunny? Huh?”

He pushed me away and sat on the edge of the coffee table.

“What can I do? How can I help her? Here everyone stands for himself, everyone is thinking about his own hide”

“Why the hell do you need all this?”

“What this?” He looked at me.

“Well, all of this!” I threw up my hands. “Drunken parties, drugs…”

“Dude, it’s cool!”

“What’s cool? I saw that girl. Oh, she was cool, just deadly cool. Why on earth did you want me to come with you yesterday?”

“I wanted to show you the real life.”

“Real life? C’mon, you call this life?” I was shocked, what happened to him during these last six months?

“Of course, it’s cool, it’s fun, it’s exciting!” He got up and came up to me. “That’s much more interesting than sitting at home every evening with some stupid comics.”

“It’s not stupid,” I said through my clenched teeth.

“But why the hell do you draw those stupid pictures?” He came very close.

“Because I like it,” I answered.

“So I do what I like,” he walked away from me.

“But I doubt that I will end up like that girl with my stupid pictures,” I said, quietly repeating his words.

“And I don’t care,” he almost shouted. “I don’t care what happens to me. But I have seen life!”

“Life, yeah,” I laughed bitterly.

“Yes, life, I take everything I want and you can’t even come up to her. You’re a loser!” he said as if spitting in my face.

“Look at yourself.”

I grabbed my jacket and went out on the porch. I was trying to fasten the zipper, but could not. I was beside myself with anger and resentment. What happened to him? We were the best friends, we understood each other without words, and what’s now? This gulf between us was becoming wider and wider. Damn! I pulled the zipper again and pressed my fist to my mouth. I wanted to scream. And then I felt his hand on my shoulder. I turned around. He was standing barefooted on the cold porch and looking at me.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

We went back into the house.

“I can’t control myself,” he sat on the couch with his elbows resting on his knees. “I lose my temper and hurt the people who are dear to me. But I don’t want that. Damn!”

“I’m not angry at you,” I said. “I just want to be a part of your life, whatever it is.” I was standing in front of him with my hands in my jacket pockets. “I have no friends, but you.”

“Me too,” he said.

At the end of winter, Sunny told me about her. We had lunch in the school canteen. And both ate without appetite, but for different reasons.

“Check that girl out,” Sunny said to me and nodded off to the side.

I looked in that direction and actually saw several girls. They were from senior class and had fun discussing something.

“Which one?” I asked.

“The one with long hair in a green dress.”

“I don’t see her,” I looked harder.

“C’mon, her hair is, uh, pure copper. Look! She is smiling at us,” he smiled back at someone.

But I didn’t see anybody. The girl he described was not there.

“Look, is she not a beauty?” Sunny was still smiling. “Such a kitty.”

“Kitty?” I looked around trying to find the girl he was talking about.

“Yeah, she looks like a kitty. So pretty. And her eyes are so green.”

“Sunny, there is no such girl here,” I was getting embarrassed, he was clearly hallucinating.

“But there she is! She is going away,” he jumped to his feet, probably willing to rush to her, but I held him back. “She goes to our school from the beginning of this year. I often see her during the breaks. When I see her next time, I will definitely introduce you to her.”

 

But there was no next time. It happened at the beginning of March. The snow had already melted, but the puddles had not dried yet, although the sun warmed like in late spring. After school, we walked home. Sunny was very excited, he chatted non-stop, tugged at my sleeve every second to show me something. Dogs, cars, people — almost everything fascinated him. He was happy as a little kid and was eager to share his observations with me. I just nodded absently and said only “yes, yes, yes”. My thoughts were busy with Annie. This morning I managed to exchange a few words with her and thought it was the greatest achievement ever.

And then I saw her. The girl, Sunny was always talking about. She really had beautiful long hair with a copper tint. She looked straight at me and smiled. I slowed down and, without taking my eyes off her, waived my hand. I wanted to pat Sunny, but he wasn’t there. I stopped. I was still holding out my hand and looking at the girl, and now there was something sinister in her smile. I wanted to call Sunny, but suddenly I heard a loud car beep, then squeal of brakes and scream.

It took me time to realize that it was me, who screamed.

Sunny was lying in the middle of the road right on the asphalt just a few feet away from a car that hit him. I rushed over to him, but everything happened somehow too slowly, as if it was not me, as if I was watching it all from the sidelines. So I run up to him. I shake his shoulder. I do not understand whether he is conscious or not. His eyes are open, but he does not blink. It seems he is not breathing. People gather around us. They talk about something. Someone is trying to lift me up, but I break away. I want to help Sunny. Someone grabs me and leads somewhere. What’s going on? I do not understand. And then comes the darkness…

I was awakened by my own voice.

“Sunny.”

I jumped up, and it turned out that I’m in my bedroom. The clock shows half past one. It’s dark outside, and it seems that it’s raining. I need to find out if that really happened or it was just a bad dream. Oh, if only it was just a dream… Repeating these words I take my mobile phone and dial Sunny’s number. Operator says the subscriber is not available. I go to my parents’ bedroom. They are asleep.

“Mom,” I touch my mother ‘s shoulder. She shrugs and continues to sleep. “MOTHER,” I shake her more aggressively.

She wakes up and looks at me. In the darkness I see her eyes widen.

“Walter,” she says in a whisper, and sits down. I see that she is scared.

“Mom, what’s happened?” I kneel beside the bed.

“Walter…” she starts to say and stops.

“What is it, Mom?”

“Walter, Sunny is gone,” she says under her breath, but I think she screams.

And this thought like a bullet pierces my brain. Sunny is gone. But I refuse to believe it.

 

I was wondering when this stupid dream is finally over. When I wake up and everything will be fine again. I vaguely remember those days. I practically do not remember his funeral. I remember a lot of people and a beautiful sunny morning, as if there was no that terrible injustice. I remember his face. Quiet, peaceful, almost childish. Fifteen years. Only fifteen! So little time and so many plans…

I woke up from that nap in April. I remember I was sitting on a bench in the apple garden drawing, and suddenly the realization hit me. He was really gone. In one moment, I felt desperate. And that despair was so deep and utter. As if I was at the bottom of a deep, deep pit from which there is no exit. Darkness surrounded me, and I dissolved in it. Only my heart was trying to fight back shrinking with pain. I wanted to scream. But I could not. I wanted to hide in the most secluded corner and disappear, as if I had never existed. What do I do in this world? Who needs me? That feeling of helplessness engulfed me. I could not change anything, fix it, turn back the clock! World has faded without him. I will never see him again. I will never hear his voice, his laughter. We will never walk together after school, and he will never chat about his grand plans again.

I wanted to howl and climb the walls. I stopped eating and sleeping. If I fell asleep I dreamed the same dream. The garden covered with white snow and he on his knees, his back turned to me. I came up to him, he was cold and still. And I woke up screaming.

One night, I was drawing my comic book by the light of a lamp. I was trying to portray my beautiful Amazon in the heat of the battle with some absolutely disgusting monster, but nothing came out. I wasted a dozen of sheets and tore the last one. I got really angry.

The door opened and in came the mother. I pretended not to notice her, took a new sheet of paper and drew some squiggle on it. Mother sat on the edge of the bed. She was looking at me without saying a word. I drew another squiggle and it became an outline of the face.

“Walter,” mother said quietly.

I did not respond, sketched a couple of strokes that turned into stiff upper lip and nose.

“I know it’s hard,” she said.

Well, yes. But. In our family there was no such habit as ​​to communicate with each other. Each of us lived his own life and I was perfectly fine with it. No need to break the tradition.

I carefully drew one eye, then the other. Meantime she kept saying some useless stuff, like I should open up my soul, she understands me and wants to help me, and she is ready to listen to all my problems. No way!

I added the eyelashes, then thought and made them longer.

You were never interested in my problems before, and now all of a sudden they became very important.

“I know a very good doctor.”

Stop. Doctor?

I was going to finish curls, but at the mention of some Doctor my pencil hovered in the air, and I listened.

“Albert is very good doctor, he works with adolescents for almost twenty years. He is a psychologist and kids love him.”

Albert, a psychologist, kids… It is nonsense. I don’t need a doctor.

I continued to draw. So, neck, shoulder, hand, sword in hand. Or a spear?

“Walter, I made an appointment for the next Monday.”

So, spear, then I should change the hand.

She sat for a while, looking at me. Then she nodded to me or to herself, I don’t know, and left the room.

On Monday, we went to Albert. He was one of those experts adored by the adults and believed to help their children. Well, well. Children did not like Albert. Teens too. I was lying on the couch in his office. He sat next to me in his chair and made some notes in a large notebook. I do not know why people think that lying on the couch helps to reveal your soul to some stranger whom you do not even sympathize. I was lying there examining the picture on the opposite wall. It depicted a summer meadow and a little girl playing with a big shepherd dog.

“Walter,” he said. “You are going through the difficult period, but soon it will end.”

“Are you sure?” I thought.

“If you shrink into yourself it will be more difficult for you to go through all that. Open to us, share your feelings, and together we will decide what to do next. We all knew Robert, he was a good friend to many and your loss — is our loss.”

Robert. No one called him Robert. Our loss. Who the hell are you to tell me about him? Thoughts raced through my head, but I was silent.

“Death chooses not only the old and sick…”

Oh, really.

“Sometimes it takes young and healthy, but God works in mysterious ways…”

C’mon and God is here, yeah.

“We have to believe that there, in heaven, he is all right…”

Are you a psychoanalyst or a priest?

“He’s gone, but we continue to live, we must not give way to grief…”

And you try.

“We must find the strength to move on…”

Blah, blah, blah. He talked a lot, he appealed to my senses, then to my reason, and then just tried to ask some questions, but I only answered yes or no. I heard that after the session he told my mother that he was able to get talking the kids, which were far more troubled, and advised to discuss with me what was going on.

It made little sense. Annoying questions only angered me more. I continued to attend therapy sessions, but still did not want to talk to Albert. I did not want to talk to anybody, I wanted everyone to leave me alone. I already knew everything they said trying to express their sympathy. I knew that Sunny is gone and I must somehow live on. I knew that someday I’d probably get used to this thought. I had nothing to share with my ​​mother, who suddenly remembered that she has me. Moreover, I had nothing to share with Albert, who knew nothing about such troubled teenagers as me. Gradually, the hideous monsters, which fought my beautiful Amazon, have become more like Albert and my parents.

In early May, one of my classmates, Alex, was having his birthday party.

I had normal relationships with my classmates. I was not an outcast or some nerd, I was not an object of jokes or bullying. We just kept a respectful distance, and it was my conscious choice. I never really strived to be a part of the company. It was enough for me to stay connected with only one person — with Sunny. But now, without him, my world became too empty. There were the times when I did not talk to anybody for days, and now I madly wanted to communicate with someone. So madly, that I went to that party.

Alex lived in a big and a beautiful house just a few blocks from my parents’ house, but our house was nothing compared to his. The doors were wide open and I heard the music and laughter. At first, nobody noticed as I walked in and stood in the doorway hesitating, but soon all eyes were on me. Some of them surprised, some absolutely indifferent, but some looked at me even with sympathy. Sunny’s death was a shock for everyone, though not that great as it was for me. Two girls ran up at me and began vying with each other offering me beer or some cocktail with vodka.

I don’t remember what my choice was, but I became drunk pretty quickly. I was sitting in a chair staring blankly at the girls dancing in front of me. In one hand, I held a cigarette, in the other was a glass of something alcoholic. I felt weird. My head was spinning. I inhaled, and the room disappeared in the fog. Suddenly I found myself on the steps of the ruined gothic church. Large flakes of snow were falling from the night sky. My lonely footprints were lost somewhere in dark thicket of old trees.

“Walter…” Someone whispered in my ear, I turned around, but saw no one. “Walte-er…”

The picture became fuzzy, and I was back in the room. Some girl sat on my lap smiling.

“Hey, where are you?” She asked.

I looked at her and said nothing. She reminded me of the Cheshire Cat from “Alice in Wonderland” when he disappeared and remained only his smile. That’s what I saw now — a smile, but there was no girl.

“Welcome back to the real world,” she tapped me on the cheeks.

But I could argue with this statement for the vision of the gothic church was much more real.