Author: The Spectrum Sings PM
Buckley's thoughts, Buckley's feelings, Buckley's understanding. Feathery, innocent, and childlike yet not childish thoughts of the when and where and what of Susie Salmon.Rated: Fiction K - English - Angst/Family - Buckley S./Buck & Suzanne S./Susie - Words: 810 - Reviews: 3 - Favs: 6 - Follows: 4 - Published: 06-28-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8265169
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Abandonment: the feeling that sweeps through me when I think of Susie, the feeling that twirls and twists and tortures the inside of my head. I am young and she is never going to be old. She is never going to grow a grey hair or tell stories to my future wife about "When Buckley was young..." in that big sister secret smirk tone. She is never going to cuddle with me when I have nightmares or smooth back my hair. Never again will I hear "Lindsey is being snooty wooty." I will only hear silence coming from the door of Susie's room.
The door is shut, but not locked. It doesn't need to be locked, for it is already a barrier, an unbroken line, no man's land, a scarred place. I push the door lightly and it feels symbolic, defining, and terrifying to watch it silently swing open and not see Susie lounging on her bed, with her beautiful smile and bright eyes. She should be here. But she isn't. She's left me.
Her floor boards make no protest as I tip toe across the dusty floor boards on to her swirly, sunshine rug. I wonder if any of the objects littered around meant anything to her, meant something so important they maybe she would come for them. Maybe if I wait here, she will come back for me.
I scramble into Susie's bed, cocooning myself into the covers. I am a caterpillar waiting to break free from my confined, safe haven of a prison into a new world. Except I don't want this new world. The new world doesn't have Susie. She has melted away, softened and liquefied. She has simply gone. But gone where, is where my thoughts dissolve into a vortex of madness. Her bed smells of lavender and strawberry shampoo and the old bottle of perfume that our Mother let her keep. It smells so perfectly of Susie, I want to catch the scent in a jar and hide it away. My hands explore into the cave of covers and I find something solid.
I find a snow globe containing a penguin with a striped scarf.
And I remember and I see Susie's eyes reflected in the glass. I can't have dreamed her up so perfectly, her eyes are so poignant and alive. I remember Susie's soft voice as she explained to me why she kept the snow globe under her pillow, why she kept it safe. "I don't want him to be lonely." She had whispered as we lay, shivering and trying to think of something other than my fearful nightmares. "He's trapped it there, don't you see?"
I wonder if Susie is trapped too. I wonder if... If I break the snow globe, the penguin will be free and so will Susie.
I stand awkwardly, amiss the bed sheets and pillows, my arms rise. The snow globe hits the floor. For a moment, it feels as if ice has trickled down and frozen everything. Then it breaks. It ruptures and shatters and shatters and falls to dust. In the mess of shards, there is beauty. Light catches them, and slowly, in the rainbow of reflections, Susie's laughter rings.
I stand and wait. The footsteps that echo up the stairs are slow and planned; like being slightly out of place will further disrupt the mess Susie has left, because Susie has left. She has departed, dissolved, and no words are left remaining. She is trapped in her perfect world, and the penguin is dead without his.
My Father appears in the door way, he lingers like smoke.
"Susie." I say simply, brokenly. And it seems it hits me. It hits me and keeps on hitting until I jump off the bed, into the shards of splintered glass and sob. I drop to my knees and feel my Father's arms wrap around me shakily.
"Susie." He repeats weakly, and then again, in a strong, clear voice. "Susie." He sounds so luminous, so alive. And then he doesn't, and then he remembers. He strokes my hair; he strokes the penguin's plastic scarf.
"She's gone." I say carefully, testing the words on my tongue. It's not her fault she left me.
"I know." He tells me cheerlessly.
"I love her though." I say.
"I will always love her." He whispers. And then he carries me from the room, leaving the lonely penguin in a puddle of glass and leaving him so broken. I can only hope Susie can be whole again and happy. I can only hope Heaven is as beautiful as she is.
The door falls shut, softly, lightly. The barrier doesn't build back up, we take Susie with us, always in our hearts.