Twenty-Nine

                                    

                                          
"Goddamn it!", you cursed as another bullet missed the trunk of the tree that you were practicing on for a good few hours now. "This is useless..."
Frustrated, you left it to join Arthur at the campfire.
A pleasant warmth was in the air.
The clouds had passed, but now the sky was dark because of the upcoming evening.
Arthur was on his third cup of coffee and had about a quarter pack of cigarettes left to smoke.
His eyes moved to you as he noticed how you sat down to warm your hands at the fire.
"Ya want one?", he asked and offered you a cigarette.
You took it.
Smoking wasn't your preferred way to enjoy yourself, but every now and then it was needed to calm the nerves.
Or to enjoy the moment.
In one swift movement, he lit a match on his boot and offered you the flame to get the tip of the cigarette glowing.
You leaned in a took a deep breath.
The familiar scratching of smoke filled your lips, accompanied by the taste of dried leaves.
For a moment, you just sat in silence while the tip of your cigarette lit up in a fiery orange with every breath you took.
Silence spread the two of you.
Your eyes were glued to the crackling flames of the fire.
But Arthur's gaze was all on you.
It seemed like he tried to burn the image of your profile into the back of his mind.
You noticed the feeling of his eyes on you.
But you didn't mind.
Arthur was good company. His staring felt less like a threat and more like interest.
But maybe the height of the gun training just made your mind go wild.
A soft breeze stroked through the valley.
It smelled of wood and electricity. As if lighting had struck the earth.
"It's about to rain.", you mumbled and took another breath from the cigarette.
Arthur raised his eyes to the sky.
"Ya want to leave?", he asked and put out the last bit that he had left to smoke before it burned his fingers.
You shook your head.
"Not yet. It's calm here. Makes me forget about the worries I have."
He let out a sound of understanding.
"The boys must be a hand full.", he noted and dumped the bottom of his cup.
Your eyes turned dark.
"Ginny and Karl...", you mumbled. "It's not them. But their well-being. Work. Responsibilities."
He huffed.
"Yeah, well, I ain't a man for that. Couldn't tell you anythin' about it."
Your eyes moved to catch a glimpse of his face.
"If you would have the chance to change your life from what it is now, would you make things unwritten? Different?"
Silence overcame him.
But the movement of his eyes gave away that he was thinking.
His lips pressed into a thin line, while a low sound got stuck in his throat.
"I never knew anythin' but this.", he gestured towards the small tent and campfire that he had pulled up for the training.
You smiled and lowered your eyes back to the hissing flames.
"Would you have wanted something else? A family? Kids? Some responsibility that involves more than just yourself?"
"Would you have wanted less than that?", he asked back, obviously trying to avoid the question.
You nodded.
"Sometimes.", you sighed and threw the cigarette bud into the fire. "Ginny isn't my child, not per se. But I was forced to raise him, feed him, clothe him. Teach him. I was a parent before I was all grown up myself. I had to provide."
"Are you sayin' you would have liked to make the kid disappear?"
You fell silent for a moment.
It wasn't fair to talk about your brother like this.
He was a good kid and never caused any huge trouble.
But there was always this small voice in the back of your head, this little demon of selfishness, that whispered things that made you feel some sort of resentment towards Ginny's existence.
You would have never told him.
But you needed to get it off your chest.
Arthur was a stranger, someone who wouldn't be around for long.
You could tell him to lighten your heart and he'd take all of those rotten thoughts with him as soon as it was time to leave.
"Ginny was a burden.", you admitted. "I still was a kid myself when our parents decided to leave us behind. It was hard to feed myself. But the real pressure came from him. It's one thing to make myself hunger for a few days. But how could I have not fed him? He was just a kid. It wasn't his fault that he was a burden on my life."
With sad eyes, Arthur gently nodded.
He seemed to understand the feeling.
"It would have been a lot easier without him, eh?", he asked and let out a deep breath that made his shoulders tremble.
You shrugged.
"Probably. But it is what it is. We don't always get what we want, or what we work for. If I would have had a choice, I wouldn't taken care of him. I would have given him to a church, an orphanage maybe. But I didn't have that choice. And I won't push him away now. Life gave me lemons. They ain't turning into lemonade by themselves."
A cocky yet bitter smirk appeared on Arthur's face.
With a low chuckle, he tipped his hat and lowered his gaze to shield himself from your eyes.
"I think my lemons are rotten already.", he huffed, but it sounded bitter and exhausted.
Your eyes lingered on his shoulders.
His body language seemed tired, as if he didn't want to anymore, but also knew he had to since there was no other way of life he knew.
"Arthur...", you called out his name, so gentle and calm, that it made your heart beat faster.
He hummed, but didn't look up.
Slowly, you slid towards him.
He glanced over the brim of his hat to see what you were doing.
"What?", he asked as you were so close that he couldn't avoid you anymore.
"I'd be willing to share some of my lemons with you.", you smiled. "And in return you help me making the lemonade."
He almost had to laugh.
"Careful what you offer.", he mumbled. "I'd just add salt instead of sugar."