Title: Nightmares
Author's note: While watching In Thin Air tonight, something became clear to me; something many authors here have said, but which I never fully believed. Harmon Rabb is deathly afraid… but not of anything we would expect.
The chime of the doorbell pulled the young boy away from his grandmother's side in the kitchen. It was Christmas Eve, and every visit was a possible surprise.
He didn't understand the significance of the two men at the door; couldn't comprehend his mother's sudden pallor as she took in their uniforms and solemn expressions. But before he could ask any questions, his grandmother rushed to join her and the two women linked arms to support each other.
He watched silently from behind the banister as the men delivered their message and left, some secret knowledge keeping him from speaking until they were gone. Then, before he had a chance to say a word, the two most important people in his life turned and told him, "Your father's not coming home, Harm."
When Harm woke up, the ceiling above him wasn't painted gold, like it had been in his childhood bedroom. Instead of hearing the ticking of his old analog alarm clock, he could see the faint reddish glow of the digital numbers glimmering in the dark.
It was just a dream… the same dream he'd had hundreds of times since that Christmas Even almost 35 years ago. The passage of time had slowed its frequency, but it hadn't lessened the impact of the sorrow on his mother and grandmother's faces. Even now, if he closed his eyes, he could picture the tears tracking down their cheeks just like they had all those years ago.
Knowing from experience that sleep would not return tonight, he tossed the covers back with a sigh. But it was only 0315 and he had a full day of work ahead of him… coffee was the first necessity. He dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt while it was brewing, knowing his second priority was to go to the one place where the nightmares faded in favor of good memories.
Forty-five minutes and two cups of coffee later, he was standing on familiar ground—in front of the Wall, staring at his father's name. of all the places in the world, this was where he felt closest to his father; here, in the place that honored his death.
He reached out his hand, tracing the engraved letters with his finger. Closing his eyes, eh allowed himself to simply feel the slight rise and fall in the stone that he knew as well as he did his own name.
Once his eyes were closed, his mouth opened, releasing the fears that had brought the nightmare and driven him to this spot. They came hesitantly at first, but once his heart was unlocked, all the secrets held within rushed out.
"Hi Dad," he said quietly. "It's been a couple of months since I've been here… I'm sorry, my caseload has been heavy.
"I know, you're probably sitting up there thinking, 'My boy didn't come to talk about work at four in the morning…' Well, you're right. I had it again Dad… the nightmare I mean. Although I'm not sure it counts as a nightmare since it really happened…
"Dad… Dad, ah Dad you know why I'm here. Every time Mac and I get close, every time we start to make a little progress, I have that blasted dream and I remember… I remember why I push her away.
"I can still see the look on Mom and Gram's faces when they knew you weren't coming home. I can still hear the tears Mom cried and the prayers she whispered at nights for you to come back.
"I know I was mad when she married Frank, and that I told her she was giving up on you. The truth is though that waiting for something that wasn't going to happen was killing her. She died a little bit everyday you didn't come home.
"And now, every time I think about letting Sarah in, I remember the haunted look Mom still gets when we talk about you. I may not be in danger daily like you were Dad, but I find plenty of trouble. I won't risk hurting Sarah like that… I love her too much," he finally whispered, resting his head on the cool marble.
"Shouldn't that be my choice?" a soft voice behind him questioned.
His heart sank when he heard the familiar voice. Turning around, he met Sarah Mackenzie's stare, noticing the eyebrow she had raised in challenge and praying she hadn't heard what he knew she had.
Author's note: While watching In Thin Air tonight, something became clear to me; something many authors here have said, but which I never fully believed. Harmon Rabb is deathly afraid… but not of anything we would expect.
The chime of the doorbell pulled the young boy away from his grandmother's side in the kitchen. It was Christmas Eve, and every visit was a possible surprise.
He didn't understand the significance of the two men at the door; couldn't comprehend his mother's sudden pallor as she took in their uniforms and solemn expressions. But before he could ask any questions, his grandmother rushed to join her and the two women linked arms to support each other.
He watched silently from behind the banister as the men delivered their message and left, some secret knowledge keeping him from speaking until they were gone. Then, before he had a chance to say a word, the two most important people in his life turned and told him, "Your father's not coming home, Harm."
When Harm woke up, the ceiling above him wasn't painted gold, like it had been in his childhood bedroom. Instead of hearing the ticking of his old analog alarm clock, he could see the faint reddish glow of the digital numbers glimmering in the dark.
It was just a dream… the same dream he'd had hundreds of times since that Christmas Even almost 35 years ago. The passage of time had slowed its frequency, but it hadn't lessened the impact of the sorrow on his mother and grandmother's faces. Even now, if he closed his eyes, he could picture the tears tracking down their cheeks just like they had all those years ago.
Knowing from experience that sleep would not return tonight, he tossed the covers back with a sigh. But it was only 0315 and he had a full day of work ahead of him… coffee was the first necessity. He dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt while it was brewing, knowing his second priority was to go to the one place where the nightmares faded in favor of good memories.
Forty-five minutes and two cups of coffee later, he was standing on familiar ground—in front of the Wall, staring at his father's name. of all the places in the world, this was where he felt closest to his father; here, in the place that honored his death.
He reached out his hand, tracing the engraved letters with his finger. Closing his eyes, eh allowed himself to simply feel the slight rise and fall in the stone that he knew as well as he did his own name.
Once his eyes were closed, his mouth opened, releasing the fears that had brought the nightmare and driven him to this spot. They came hesitantly at first, but once his heart was unlocked, all the secrets held within rushed out.
"Hi Dad," he said quietly. "It's been a couple of months since I've been here… I'm sorry, my caseload has been heavy.
"I know, you're probably sitting up there thinking, 'My boy didn't come to talk about work at four in the morning…' Well, you're right. I had it again Dad… the nightmare I mean. Although I'm not sure it counts as a nightmare since it really happened…
"Dad… Dad, ah Dad you know why I'm here. Every time Mac and I get close, every time we start to make a little progress, I have that blasted dream and I remember… I remember why I push her away.
"I can still see the look on Mom and Gram's faces when they knew you weren't coming home. I can still hear the tears Mom cried and the prayers she whispered at nights for you to come back.
"I know I was mad when she married Frank, and that I told her she was giving up on you. The truth is though that waiting for something that wasn't going to happen was killing her. She died a little bit everyday you didn't come home.
"And now, every time I think about letting Sarah in, I remember the haunted look Mom still gets when we talk about you. I may not be in danger daily like you were Dad, but I find plenty of trouble. I won't risk hurting Sarah like that… I love her too much," he finally whispered, resting his head on the cool marble.
"Shouldn't that be my choice?" a soft voice behind him questioned.
His heart sank when he heard the familiar voice. Turning around, he met Sarah Mackenzie's stare, noticing the eyebrow she had raised in challenge and praying she hadn't heard what he knew she had.