Shadows | Teen Ink

Shadows

July 30, 2015
By Emily Glauber BRONZE, Whitehouse Station, New Jersey
Emily Glauber BRONZE, Whitehouse Station, New Jersey
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

The first thing Howard Benton noticed when he walked into Daniel’s room was his older brother’s shadow. He had never seen a shadow part with its master’s feet for so long. Momentarily, of course: when little boys leaped into piles of leaves, or when little girls skipped rope, their padded feet kissing their shadows softly with each jump. But eight-year-old Howard Benton stood in the doorway that day, mouth agape, brown bowl-cut hair plastered to his square forehead, marveling at the ceaseless gap between Daniel’s limp bare toes and his faithful shadow.


Howard’s clouded eyes slowly moved up his brother’s body. Daniel’s strong legs were pulled into a pair of faded blue jeans worn without a belt, making his underwear stick out of the waistband. A white shirt gripped the muscles of his torso, blanketed by his letterman’s jacket. Howard looked into his brother’s face. Cheeks bruised and eyes bloodshot, with the belt that was missing from his jeans now cinching his neck into streaking chasms of skin. Daniel’s face remained darkly handsome, suspended underneath his ceiling fan. Howard used to fiercely hope his plain boyish face would mature to be as sharp and virile as his brother’s. He used to fiercely hope a lot of things about himself would one day become like his brother. But he wasn’t sure anymore.


Their parents were not home yet. What would they say? How would they feel? Probably sad that their cherished older son, star of the Grove Hill High School football team, senior class president, straight-A pupil, could no longer bring them glory, and they would be forced to divert their attention to their younger, video-game-playing, cartoon-drawing, music-listening son. But Howard didn’t want to think about his parents finding out about Daniel just yet. He wanted to be alone with his brother for the last time, as this was as painful a shock to him as anyone.


*     *     *


“Now, Howie, grip it along the laces...that’s it...and wrap your thumb firmly around the bottom. Now wind back and chuck into my hands!”

 

Howard whipped the football behind his head and released. It soared ten feet in front of him and landed abruptly, covering half the distance to his brother’s stance across the backyard.

 

“That’s okay, Howard. You can try again if you want. It’s hard when you’re first starting out.”


“I’ll never get it, Dan. There’s something wrong with me. Everything comes so easy to you, but I can’t do anything right.”


“Hey, that’s not true, How,” said Daniel as he strode toward his younger brother. “You can do anything you put your mind to. Believe it.”


“Nothing worth doing. I’m a failure already. I can’t do anything good. I know it. Mom and dad really know it. I even think you know it, you’re just trying to be nice to me.”


“Howard Ringo Benton.” Daniel placed a hand on his shoulder. “You have to know that’s not true. You can do lots of good. You played all the way through that Watchdogs video game in just a few days, when it took your friends weeks to master it. You draw the most amazing cartoons, way better than anything the artist of Looney Toons could draw. Heck, your middle name is even Ringo, after Ringo Starr. Howard, believe you can do good.”


“No, Dan. You can do good. I want to be just like you.”


“Don’t be like me, Howard. Be like you, because the you you are is so special. You don’t realize how special you are.”


“Okay, Dan. Okay.”


“You can do good, Howie,” whispered Daniel, pulling his younger brother into his embrace.


*     *     *


How long had it been since Daniel Benton had done it? He was invariably the first person to leave the house in the morning, riding off in his fixed-up Chevrolet to pick up his beautiful blonde girlfriend Michelle before school. Then their parents, dad for the insurance office and mom for whatever excuse she found to leave the house before Howard woke up. That left Howard to catch his bus to Grove Hill Elementary School.


Daniel’s car was not in the driveway when Howard arrived home--as big a mystery as Daniel’s motivation to cease himself from breathing in all that was offered to him in life.


Howard suddenly realized he had been standing in Daniel’s doorframe for a long time, maybe an hour, simply staring at his brother’s lifeless form and thinking about his once-enlivened sentience.


The boy who was too careful with his emotions moved forward into the bedroom. Although Daniel had been the only person to make Howard feel at home, Howard now held a fear for the changed perspective of his brother. Almost as if Daniel’s lack of life correlated with a lack of pertinence, almost as if Daniel had betrayed him. Howard edged gingerly around his brother’s body, never turning his back for a second. All the while he thought, “Here is a boy who had everything anyone could hope for. Here is a boy who didn’t see what was right in front of him. Who brushed off what I saw as heroism as if it were nothing. Here is a boy who was my brother. Who I don’t think I have ever truly known.”


Howard’s gaze now moved away from Daniel’s form. His eyes passed over all his brother’s trophies, all his framed photographs with his arms wrapped around his friends, all his books and posters--all his blessings after which Howard so frequently sought, knowing they were unattainable. But then his eyes fell upon an unsuspecting scrap of paper. The kind of paper that, if it were a person, would keep its head neither up nor down and would walk with the simplest of gaits. Howard picked it up, never having felt he had so much in common with a slip of paper.


Dear Howard,
By now you probably think I’ve given up. You think that I had so much to live for, that how could I be so blind to throw it all away. But believe me when I tell you that life is a worthless chute if you’re handed everything. More so, if you’re handed all of the commonalities. When I look back on my life, I don’t see a football star or a scholar or anything at all. I see a kid who had a few talents that adults deemed “valuable.” So they threw me every opportunity under the sun and I caught them all and ran with them. I was almost in the end zone before I realized that’s not what I want. You might think I could have turned around and changed my life to be the person I wanted to be. I’m not that strong, Howard. This was the decision I chose to make, and I hope you will forgive me for my weaknesses. But Howard, you are stronger than me. Once you start believing in your talents, you’ll be fortified and you’ll be able to create your life in your own eyes. You might have thought I had that opportunity, but it was all laid out for me. I never had the ability to find it for myself. But it’s wide open for you. Find what you love, and follow it. You don’t have a small life. You make it a big one, Howard. I believe in you. It’s time for you to believe in yourself. You can do it. I love you forever.
       Your Brother,
       Daniel


Howard Benton looked out his brother’s window. He knew what Daniel had seen through this window: a horizon much narrower than the one Howard saw now.


His parents pulled into the driveway just then. Soon they would find out about Daniel, would cry and lament over the needless death of the son they never bothered to know. Howard would never be alone with his older brother again, so he took one last look at his renewed hero. His hero who had possessed the courage to divert his life and remain loyal to his will, and who had inspired Howard to take hold of his own life. For it was too fleeting a gift not to sculpt oneself into something great.


Daniel’s shadow was still detached from his detached soul. Comforting, Howard thought, how even in death a shadow remains faithful to its master. A three-foot gap stretched between Daniel’s limp toes and the floor. Daniel had wanted something. Although he was constrained, he was three feet closer to it.


As the evening sun pried its way through Daniel’s bedroom window, it cast Howard’s shadow across the floor and up the wall in a glorious projection of fortitude. If that sense of self empowerment can be reflected in our non-sentient shadows, then surely we possess it in ourselves, too. Howard Benton would go on in life to prove that to be true. As for the rest of us, shouldn’t we make every stride to do the same?


The author's comments:

This work was originally a short story for my creative English class. I hope it contains a hopeful message, that even in darkness we can find calm and fortitude.


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This article has 1 comment.


Bobby G said...
on Aug. 5 2015 at 8:52 pm
Awesome stuff. Legit.