The Mind Lighthouse

It was as if Gino’s mind were falling apart, and it was my job to pick up all the pieces that fell off, when he was walking home, or sitting at the bus stop, and try and fit them as carefully as I could back in. It didn’t always work. At those times Gino would sigh, and look at me helplessly. Never for long, though. I could see his inner person, wandering, having lost attention, on to the next thought, the next problem.

Gino’s mind, with its elephants and Black Plagues and poems, was its own greatest enemy.

And I think he would have been able to continue on without me - but just for a short while, though, and then his body would follow his mind and fall apart. I could imagine it. One day he’d be making breakfast, or brushing his teeth, and he would fall apart. His head would topple off first. Then his arms, and he would end up a collapsed heap, on the floor. And no one would ever notice.

Gino needed me, I thought with a fright. It wasn’t a good thing, to need someone whom no one from the outside world could see.

“Gino,” I said one day to him at breakfast, “You have to make more friends.”

Gino looked at me, then looked away. “Nomonhan,” he muttered.

“What?”

“The battle of Nomonhan, 1939. Soviets against the Japanese. Definite Soviet victory.”

I sighed.

“Or a girlfriend. Or anyone. Or even go back to your father,” I insisted. “He needs you, and more importantly, you need him.”

Gino seemed to concentrate for a few seconds. “He’s decent enough on his own. I’m twenty-four. I can live on my own.”

“Gino.” I was close to tears now. I could see his eyes unfocusing. He was phasing out. “Gino. No, you can’t. You need someone. You can’t live on your own anymore.”

“I have friends,” Gino murmured. He held a finger up to his head. To me his pointed hand looked like a gun. “In here. I have you.”

There was nothing more I could say about that. I listened silently as he said to me,

“I think that life is like looking at a lighthouse light. Except there’s someone standing in front of the light, so you’re looking at their silhouette. On one hand, you want them to go away. You want the light to shine on you. All of the light, unbroken. On the other hand, though, you want to see who the person is who is blocking your light. You want to see their face. But you can’t, because they’re in the light and all you can make out is a dark shadow.”

He paused, and took a thoughtful bite of toast.

“Don’t you think?”

I sat down on the chair he had pulled out for me. I couldn’t pull chairs out myself. It was strange of me to be concerned about Gino, who had created me. In a way, I wanted to not exist anymore. That way, Gino would be more of what people called normal. No invisible friends. But this game of ours, this sparring match " me, against his mind, in a way, figments of Gino against himself " had been played too many times to have any effect anymore.

“Of course.”

I stared at his glass of orange juice. The glass had stains of something else on it. Neither his plate, nor his glass had been washed properly. The table hadn’t been wiped. Gino had forgotten to shave, and deodorise.

I could see his body falling apart already.

Maybe, I thought, I’m the one standing in front of his lighthouse light. Because of me, he can’t feel the light shining on him. Maybe it is my fault.

“I think so, too.”

Author's Note

this was a short piece I did a few minutes ago so its not very good :/ The task was to incorporate three words into a piece of writing. My words were "just", "decent" and "spar". Hope you enjoy!

Reviews

[roarke]

I'd say this was a deft piece of writing. Great concept, intriguing intro into a cerebral world and a strong sketching of an unusual relationship. Very well done. I dug this story.