Short Story #18: Broken Rocks.

Short Story #18: Broken rocks.
By Brandon M. Bird.
List of words:
1. Illation.
2. Congeal.
3. Precipitant.
Words randomly selected via opening random page in dictionary.
Story inspired by overhearing someone read something about rocks.

“So, this is your room?” Steven commented as he entered his friend's room. Steven is a seventeen year old boy with a full head of  short, light brown hair. His eyes are blue and he is wearing a white T-shirt with the name of his high school on it. His family can't spend much on clothes, so he wears whatever shirts he can get for free, such as a pep rally where the cheerleaders threw some T-shirts to some of the students, Steven happened to get one some months back and wears it occasionally.

“Yup. I hope you like it, I put a lot of work into it.” His friend Savanna replied. Savanna is a seventeen year old girl with long, dark brown hair. This was the first time she invited anyone to her house in a long time, and even longer since she invited someone into her room. But these two had been friends for over a year now, and had connected in a way she never imagined possible. Though both still stayed silent about many things, they were gradually opening up more and more to each other as time progressed.

Entering the room one could see the walls were painted beige, however the attention would quickly be drawn to the pictures that seemed to clutter the wall. Although if you looked hard enough, and just right, it could be seen that the photos on the far wall from the door actually all formed together to make a picture. The photos all combined seemed to create a big picture of a broken rock with cracks in it. And upon closer inspection, every photo was itself a picture of a broken rock, all seemed to be different.

The next striking thing about the room was the small piles of rocks scattered around the room in various places. Some of the rocks were broken, and some merely cracked, while others polished and yet others unpolished. Certainly a sight to see. Steven had never before seen anyone with so many rocks in their room, or seen anyone else with so many pictures of rocks.

“You like rocks. You never told me.” Steven quickly concluded.

Savanna stepped into the room behind Steven, leaving the door open and then stepped in front of him and sat on her bed. “Well, not exactly. I mean, don't get me wrong, I do like rocks, but I have all of these for another reason. But I never brought it up because...” she trailed off into quietness, kind of embarrassed.

Steven meanwhile was dropping his thoughts from his first conclusion, and was now interested what she could mean. He wondered what other reason someone would have to have so many rocks and pictures of rocks in their room, if they weren't obsessed with rocks. “Because?”

Savanna blushed a little in her embarrassment, and looked away from him so she could think better. Her gaze fell upon the photos on the wall behind her. As she looked at the pictures, and the image the pictures created upon her wall, her thoughts cleared, being reminded of the intensity of her reasons. “Well, while I do like rocks, all the shapes they can form, how pretty they can look, what really has set me to keep so many of them, and take so many pictures of them, is so that I can remember.”

She suddenly stopped talking again. Her voice seemed to start breaking a little, as if she was about to cry. Steven could tell something was wrong, but he didn't know what to do. He was still quite awkward around her with situations like this. She had cried on his shoulder once before, though she never told him why, and he was always curious what happened, but every time he asked, she would just freeze for a second, then suddenly, completely unexpectedly, she would tag Steven, say “You're it!” and then run off and start laughing when she saw him chase her. It was her way of avoiding the conversation, her way of hiding what she still hid from him, from everyone.

Steven stood there awkwardly, not knowing whether he should prompt her to continue, or stay silent to see if she would continue, not wanting to break her thoughts and concentration. Though as seconds went by, feeling like minutes, he finally was about to say something when she finally spoke again before he could make the first sound for what he would have said.

“Rocks are important to me. They remind me of the day that impacted my life in a way that I can only wish never happened. They remind me of my father who died of cancer.”

The room suddenly felt a little cold. Steven's dad had also been diagnosed with cancer some years back, and the medical expenses and everything caused a lot of financial issues. His heart sank a little, to now know his friend lost her dad to such an illness. And it was a clear reminder to him what will likely happen to his own dad, and probably soon, as he doesn't seem to be getting better, only worse. Though his parents try to hide it, he can tell. Yet they still treat him like a child, as if he can't handle the truth. He wishes they would tell him rather than lie to his face about it.

Steven stayed silent, not wanting to interrupt her time of opening up. Just standing there so awkwardly. She wasn't crying yet, but he was beginning to prepare for the possibility in case she wanted a shoulder to cry on, even though it was still awkward for him, he wished to console her, to make her feel better, even a little bit.

At this moment,  Savanna looked at Steven, her eyes watering, as if on the verge of crying. She quickly looked away and looked down to her bed. “I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't cry. This stuff happens. It's life. But it feels so unfair.” She wiped her eyes to rid of the water best she could, then looked back to Steven and sniffed, as if to keep herself from crying anymore. “But, the rocks, well, on that day, when they showed him in the casket before the funeral, I had gone outside. I couldn't look at his face with out crying. I missed him so much, it hurt my heart. But when I was outside, I noticed by the building were a bunch of rocks. Some of them were broken, sitting out on the driveway a little ways. And they got me to thinking. They looked how I felt, broken and alone. I had no friends then, because we had to move to get him to a better hospital that could care for him better than the small town I grew up in.”

Savanna paused briefly again, and looked back to the pictures of rocks. “That day, before I went outside, I was standing by my father's casket, and I looked at his peaceful, pale face. My heart hurt. I wanted so much to cry. But I remembered what he always told me. 'Don't cry, everything will get better in the end. Trust me.' he would say anytime I tried talking about the cancer, or bringing up pain. I didn't want to cry in front of him. I didn't want to cry in front of mother, or anyone else for that matter. Everything would be better, I just had to wait. But I hurt.”

She started to cry a bit, but quickly sniffed again, and rubbed the tears from her eyes to continue. “Mother called me over and I went to her. She embraced me like she had never embraced me before, and I could just feel her pain. I burst into tears for a moment before I pushed her away and ran outside. I couldn't stand it. I couldn't let her see me hurt and cry like that. I had to be strong. I had to remember that things would be better, so that I shouldn't grieve.”

Steven sniffed a bit. That was similar to what he had to deal with. His parents kept pushing it aside as if it wasn't a big deal. They obviously didn't want him hurt from it, but they didn't realize that by pushing it all aside, acting as if it wasn't a bit deal, acting as if it wasn't serious, was hurting him more than it happening.

Savanna continued to talk, bringing things back to the rocks. “So when I saw the rocks, alone on the nearly empty driveway, cracked and broken, I saw that they looked how I felt. So I picked them up. To me, they were like friends. They knew how I felt.” She chuckled a bit to herself underneath the tears that were beginning to stream down her cheeks again. “I know they didn't actually feel what I felt, but I imagined they did. I imagined they knew exactly how I felt. To be kicked away, or taken away from just about everyone they knew, to be lonely. And then to be stepped on and broken, like how my father dying felt like someone stepped on me and broke me. So from that day, I collected broken rocks. But as I've begun to heal, to see how I could become better, to honor my father's death, I've started to kind of glue and freeze rocks back together, to congeal them, to try to help make them whole again, as whole as they can be made at least. A wound can never truly be healed, the scar will always be present, whether noticeable or hard to see. But they can be functional again. And can make a difference. And then, after the crack is mended, I sometimes polish the rocks, to make them even more beautiful. And sometimes, the cracks still seen in the rocks after being polished, makes them look even more amazing than if they had simply become polished. And whenever I look at them, I wonder what kinds of stories they might have, how they became broken in the first place. Just as I look at people, some I see as polished, others as unpolished. But of them all, everyone has cracks in their lives somewhere. Big or small, they are there. And I always wonder what stories those people could tell, what they went through for those cracks, the times of brokenness they endured to get where they are now.”

Savanna sighed lightly, then looked back to Steven, her tears wiped away and her face clearing up as she gave a bit of a smile to him. “So, I keep broken rocks around because they remind me of how broken I became after my father's death, and see the hope there is to be repaired, if given time, and the right people to help, the scars can become almost invisible. And Steven, I believe you are one of the best people have I let into my life that has helped put me back together.” She suddenly reached over to the night stand beside her pillow on the bed and picked up a broken rock, and a cracked rock, holding one in each hand. She held up the broken rock first. “This rock, split into two pieces, broken, represents me. The place it is broken, not even at the half way mark, represents when in my life I was broken. I know if you turned it around, it would mean most of my life has passed already, but I don't believe that is the case. The reason it is still not repaired, is that I still feel broken. And why it isn't polished is because I am still unrefined, unpolished, still so much to learn and understand.”

She then held up the cracked rock. “This rock represents you, what I know about you. I can see you are cracked. Not broken, at least not yet. And I hope you never have to be. But I take care of these two rocks, and hope one day to put mine back together, and to polish both of ours as we both become polished in our lives, to become better people who understand more about the world and ourselves, and how we can help the world.” She placed them back on her night stand gently, nearly the same way as they were before she picked them up.

Steven couldn't help but smile a bit, to have his friend open up to him like this. He felt like she now felt better, and had gotten something off her chest. He also felt special and better in knowing she kept a rock to represent him, and cared for it, showing he was a good friend for her. He was happy to know he was being a good friend, and was helping her.

As he stood there smiling, awkwardly in his gladness for her, she suddenly grabbed his hand and pulled him to sit on the bed and hugged him dearly. He instantly became warmer, and didn't know what to do. So he sort of hugged her back, just in time for her arms to retract, so he retracted his arms as well.

The two sat for a brief moment a little awkwardly before she stood up. “So you like my room? I know it is weird, that's part of why I took so long to let you know about the rocks. They mean a lot to me, and I know I'm a freak for having them. Most people would make fun of me for it. So I don't invite people over anymore unless I really trust them.”

“It's okay, I understand.” Steven smiled. “I'm glad you trust me. And I do like the room, I really do. I think I'm even feeling an attachment to broken rocks now too. I never realized you could get so much from them. I never thought about them in the way you do. It makes you that much more interesting, really.”

Savanna blushed a little. “Aw, you think so? Thank you.” She felt good from the compliment, though she was embarrassed for feeling how she did from hearing him say that. Though really, she wasn't sure how to react to the compliment, as she was not used to compliments. So it just seemed awkward to her, and she hoped she didn't say the wrong thing.

After a bit, they got back to talking how they usually did, and the mood lightened. They laughed and talked and laughed some more before Steven went home, did home world, then fell to sleep peacefully.