Hiraeth

I see Christopher, a twenty-year-old with blond, wavy hair and a lean body. I always found him to be the altruistic one. He’s known as “the dad” of the group because of how protective he can be with us. Christopher and I had a brotherly bond since day one because we’re both the only Scottish ones in our friend group. Beside him is Lewis. He’s eighteen years old, buff, but quite short. At first, he may seem tough, but he’s a softie. Between the two is Peter.  Sixteen-year-old Peter  is an all-rounder, and labeled “funny but loud one.”

“Finn, we made you a cake to celebrate your 16th birthday,” Christopher smiles, showing his deep dimples.

“Oh! Why thank you!” I acknowledge. The cake is in the shape of a circle. It’s coated with pale blue frosting and lined with small white swirls at the edges.

They hand me the cake as they light a small pink candle. I know I wouldn’t eat it because I’m not much of a sweet tooth as my friends.

“Make a wish,” Christopher whispers to me. It has barely been two seconds when Peter loudly blurts, “What did you wish for?”

“You didn’t even let him close his eyes,” Lewis trails off, trying not to grin.

“Sorry, hearty,” Peter says with a goofy smile.

Hearty is the name we gave each other after playing an imaginary pirate game years ago. Christopher told me hearty is what you use to address sailors.

I hear stifled laughter as I close my eyes to make a wish, but I don’t need to. I already have everything I had ever wanted and needed, my friends. I open my eyes when they engulf me in a warm hug, their laughter filling the air. I close my eyes and sigh in satisfaction.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

The following morning, my heavy eyes flutter open to face the ceiling. It feels wonderful to get a pleasant night of sleep after a long time, but something seems to be bothering me. When I search through my memories, I remember I had a dream of Ian. Ian was in my friend group. That was until he had to leave, which he had never said the reason to. We were good friends, so it hurt when he disappeared without a word.

In my dream, we both went camping near a lake. It unlocks a memory deep inside my brain. When Ian and I were younger, we went to the same camp every summer. It created a strong bond between us. 

As I turn to my nightstand, I see my camera. I remember taking videos of my friends yesterday. I softly smile to myself, recalling my memories with them. I instantaneously grab my camera and head to my desk. When I find the video I’m looking for, I shuffle in my seat, trying to control my excitement. But as I play the video, all my excitement drains. I see no one but me. I didn’t take any videos of myself, I thought. Where were my hearties?... They probably just avoided the camera, or it’s an issue with my camera... right?

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

When I get to the library, I inhale the faint yet fragrant scent of vanilla in the air and go to the fictional area. Fantasy is my favorite genre because it allows me to escape into dreamlike worlds, so different from reality. As I pick up my favorite book, the library’s computer catches my eyes. Then I remember that my camera isn’t working. I can try to watch the video on the computer. I turn it on and sit in an old, ripped cushion seat. I take my camera from my bag and plug it into the computer. When I play the video, I see the exact same thing I had seen back home. Nothing has changed. It’s almost as if they’re invisible. Something isn’t right…

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

While walking home, I couldn’t stop thinking about the video. It’s confusing. I mean, my friends were with me that day… Why aren’t they in the video? As I walk into my house, I see my mother standing by the hallway.

“Finn, where were you?” My mother demands. I found it odd that my mother is taking concern in the places I go. She rarely makes an effort to check up on me.

“Good morning, mother! I was just at the library,” I reply attentively.

“Finn, listen,” my mother starts. “Your doctor prescribed more medication for you.”

“But why would I need more medication? I’m perfectly alright,” I reply.

“No, you are not alright! You’re insane! I don’t even know what’s going on with you. You make up things that don’t exist! I know what you’ve been through, but you are embarrassing me, Finn.” She’s having another outburst. I knew that she would calm down later and apologize, just as she has always done. “You are burdening me… It’s already hard enough with your father’s absence.”

There was a minute of silence as I take in my mother’s impulsive words. None of us dare to make eye contact.

“Alright,” I agree in a hushed voice.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

About a year ago, my mother had started to take me to doctor appointments for my anxiety attacks and insomnia. To this day, I still go to appointments. My doctor usually asks me questions about my personal life, mainly about my friends. But I don’t mind; I quite enjoy it.

As I walk on the beach, I get more doubtful about meeting my friends. There’s too many voices and questions running in my head, but they all disappear when I hear someone call out my name. I feel my breaths getting shorter as I take hesitant steps towards them.

“Hey, hearty!” Peter greets me enthusiastically.

“Hi, Peter,” I reply falteringly. It's clear I’m not my usual self.

Christopher notices my distinct nature and makes an effort to uplift my mood. “Do you all want to take a dip in the water? The weather is beautiful today.” Peter’s face brightens from hearing Christopher’s words. Everyone knows Peter loves the sea. He sprints towards the water, tumbling and falling face-first into the sand. Christopher hastily rushes over to Peter, as Lewis and I promptly follow.

“Peter! Are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere?” Christopher asks, worried. Peter is silent for a few seconds until he gives us a mischievous grin. He carries me and drops me in the water. He then drags Christopher and Lewis along too and splashes us with water. Peter stands in front of us and laughs. I start laughing too, unable to suppress the urge. Soon after, Christopher and Lewis laugh as well. Laughter is contagious.

I look at them, smiling ear to ear. How could I have doubted my friends? When I look back I had no one but them. They’re a priceless treasure.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

It has been seven years since I last saw my friends. There was no final “goodbye.” They just left. It’s lonely without them, but I’ve learned to get used to it.

Today is my birthday. I’m sitting in an empty corner of a library, reminiscing about my wonderful, laughter-filled birthdays before. I look at the cake in front of me and close my eyes. When I open my eyes, I see Christopher, Lewis, Peter, and Ian. We are at the beach at night. I’m holding a cake, and we all blow out the candles at once. We look at each other and smile, simply enjoying each other’s presence. I close my eyes again. This time, when I open them, I’m back at the library. I sigh, wishing what I imagined could be real. I still couldn’t seem to let go of their memories. I still hang onto a little hope that they’re still out there.

“Happy Birthday, hearty!” I hear someone whisper to me. Instantly, I get reminded of my friends again. I look up to see Ian with a warm smile. 

“Hello, Ian,” I greet with a bittersweet smile. I have to admit, I’m glad to see him. Ian looks different than when I last saw him. I mean, it was years ago. He has dark charcoal hair and sharp features. This isn’t the first time I've seen him in this library. Recently (a few weeks ago) we met each other here and started catching up. We’re still acquaintances. I'm aware that I can't put my whole sense of trust in him, but I can’t seem to resist my urge.

“I’ve been looking for you. I have to tell you something,” Ian slips a small penguin plushie in my hands.

“Me? Why so?” I examine the plushie and hug it close to my chest. What does he have to tell me after all those years?

“I know you know that I’m studying neurobiology. I figured out you have schizophrenia. It’s a disorder where you hallucinate things that don’t exist.” 

“Why should I believe you? We’ve grown distant from our break.” It’s been years since we’ve seen each other, and when we finally do, he diagnoses me. He’s talking to me as if we’re still friends!

“I have proof! You’ve recently been assigned as my patient.” He searches through his backpack and gives me a report. It’s my medical report. It says everything about me. What is this?

Ian reads my facial expression and explains, “Finn, nine years ago, I got a call from you. You said there was a bus crash on the news. The bus that crashed was the bus we used to take. One day, we both decided to opt out of the outing with Christopher, Lewis, and Peter because we got into a heated fight with them. When we both rushed to the bus crash, the only things that remained from the crash were their corpses.” I try to process what he says but still couldn’t believe him. I swallow my questions and listen.

“They died on the spot. You couldn’t handle the sight and fainted. I took you home and waited there until you woke up. Once you woke up, you kept rambling about our dead friends. You were talking to thin air. Soon you got diagnosed with schizophrenia. My parents found out, and I was forced to leave. Some years later, your doctor gave you medication that prevented hallucinations. That’s why you don’t see them anymore. I know it’s hard for you to digest this, but you deserve to know the truth.”

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

We go to his car, and Ian drives to the “mysterious place” that he keeps speaking about. I know I shouldn’t trust him if he won’t tell me exactly where we are going, but I want to see where this will go. I have nothing to lose. He tries to make small talk with me, but I mostly avoid it. After half an hour, we arrive at an area with grass and… graves? Why is he taking me here? He walks ahead, and I follow behind him. We stop at three graves. I see grief take over Ian’s face.

“These are the graves of our best friends. They passed away twelve years ago,” Ian says slowly while gazing down. No… Despite all the things I have to say, no sound comes out. My body is paralyzed. 

“No, that can’t be right,” I finally find my voice. “I was with them nine years back. They were alive!”

“I’m sorry, Finn,” Ian says quietly. I see teardrops leave from Ian’s eyes.

  My legs start to weaken the more I stare at their graves. My knees make contact with the stone-cold grave as I weep. Ian kneels beside me and brings me into a hug. We both cry into each other. 

Now I wish I never saw their smiles, never laughed with them, never loved them. Because now, all I can do is cling onto our nostalgic memories. All that’s left is my aching yearning.