Half Moon Rising-Chapter 18

Notes:

• I’m sorry. 😢

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Chapter 18-The Turning Point

     After knocking on the door several times, Artham was sure Esben wasn’t going to answer. He stared at the door for a moment, trying to stifle the frustration rising in him. 

     This is definitely not how I wanted to start the conversation. 

He sighed, and turned to Bonifer. 

     “Bonifer, I’m sorry, but could you come back later? If we don’t come find you after lunch, either postpone the dinner or have it without us.”

     “Artham, I’m sorry, but we can’t do that.” 

     “You have to anyway,” Artham paused for a moment, and when no one made any move to leave, he spoke again. 

     “Thank you for coming to check on my brother and for coming to find me,” Artham waited again.

     “You can go now,” he finally said in frustration. Bonifer nodded curtly and stalked down the hall in one direction, and the steward and councilman bumped into each other walking the other way. Artham knocked again. 

     “Esben… Please let me in.” No answer. Artham sighed again. He was going to have to do this the hard way. He went into his room and opened the window. Carefully, he sat down on the sill and dangled his legs over the edge. He twisted his torso around so he was facing his room, and grabbed the outcropping top of the window frame. It was wide and sturdy, and worn smooth by years of window-to-window travel. He pulled on the frame and placed his feet on the steeply sloping roof, and in that half hanging, half walking manner he made his way to the very edge of his window, where the edge of Esben’s was just a few feet away. He reached out with one arm and jumped, easily grabbing Esben’s window frame and bracing his boots against the warm tiles of the roof. His heart raced and he grinned, both at the success of his jump, and the happy memories surrounding it.

      He and Esben had been going this secret way since Artham was twelve and his little brother had been nine, just old enough to make the passage. The first year, though, they had nailed a board to the roof as a toehold, and had used that until it broke off. By that time, they were practiced enough to go without. Hundreds of secret comings and goings had occurred between these windows. Artham pulled himself further onto Esben’s ledge, frowning when he saw the window was closed. He peered in and saw his brother in front of an easel again, painting something Artham couldn’t see because of the morning sun’s glare. He knocked on the window, rattling the panes. 

     “Esben! Let me in!” Esben pulled a cloth over his canvas and opened the window quickly, stepping aside as Artham hopped inside. 

     “Sorry. I forgot to open the window,” Esben said slowly, gazing at Artham from head to foot in a piercing manner that made Artham uncomfortable. 

     “Es, what are you doing? Did you know people have been waiting for you?” He asked. Esben snorted in laughter, but his laugh was edged with something bitter.

     “How could I not know? They were knocking on my door, Artham. Thanks for sending them away.” 

     “What are you doing?” Artham repeated again, a hint of confusion and frustration in his voice. 

     “I’m painting,” Esben said simply, but he still scrutinized Artham in such a careful way that confirmed to the older brother that there was something more going on.

     Protect. 

     What am I going to do? Artham thought, guilt and despair rising inside of him. I have been hiding from Esben all this time, and now it’s too late! We are never going to get this fixed. He returned his brother’s stare, his breathing starting to become uneven and his heart beating hard. 

     This is what happens when the Throne Warden fails. His breath caught in his throat and his pounding heartbeat became the words he had lived for fifteen years. 

     Protect. Protect. Protect. Protect your brother. He swallowed hard and put his hand against the wall, making a fist with his other to stop his trembling. 

     What else could I expect? I don’t deserve for things to get better. Not after the last two months. Not after all the times he has reached out to me and I hid. A steady pain settled in Artham’s heart as he looked into his brother’s hard eyes.

     Please help us. Artham could think of nothing else to do. He desperately sent up his plea again. 

     Please help us. I don’t deserve it, but please fix this! Forgive me for hurting him. Please help us. For Esben’s sake, if not both of ours. Please. The brothers gazed at each other for a long moment, the air between them nearly crackling with tension. Both of them felt like the other was trying to see inside him. Both of them were. 

      “I needed to see what you would do,” Esben said, his voice sounding far older than fifteen years old. 

      “Wh-what do you mean?” Artham no longer cared that his voice cracked and wavered, his whole heart and purpose were hanging on what Esben would reply. 

     Esben was carefully watching his brother’s every move, weighing his every word, his tone, his glances. Every angle of his brother’s strong body, every tremble in his voice, the depth in his shining eyes spelled a pain and guilt deeper than the surface. Esben breathed deeply.

He had had a vague idea of what he was going to do when he had locked his door, and he had lain awake in bed for at least an hour trying to plan for something that he couldn’t foresee before going to sleep. He noted that Artham had clearly not slept the night before. He couldn’t decide if that was good or bad. 

      “I…I needed to see if you still cared enough to come through that window to get to me.” Artham felt the words like a physical blow to his heart, and hot tears began to blur his vision. He found that he couldn’t put his thoughts into words, and all he felt was a searingly painful guilt. 

     “We need to talk. That was what I was hoping for, If you came. And if you didn’t I-I knew I was going to need to be alone. I was going to paint. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do next. It all depends on what you do.” Artham’s body shook as he breathed in.

     “I’m so, so sorry,” he whispered, closing his eyes.

     “Why are you doing this, Artham?” Esben’s voice nearly matched Artham’s for pain. The last few months welled up inside him, filling him with all the hurt and confusion and anger and loneliness and wishing things were different, and they all exploded from him.

     “You-you never talk to anyone anymore, you’ve been avoiding me, you are hiding things! You have been wearing yourself out! Artham, you’re hurting yourself! And-” Esben’s voice caught in his throat. “And you are hurting me! You are hurting everyone around you by trying to handle everything alone. I don’t understand you anymore.” Esben stopped suddenly, like he had almost said something but decided not to. Then he continued

     “If I know you, you have probably memorized the entire crowning ceremony by now. I’ve read it too. I know you know it, but I’m not sure you understand it. Something important in it stuck out to me.” Esben hesitated again, trying to read his brother’s face. He was almost afraid to go on, afraid of what would happen if he brought to light everything he was feeling.

I’ve gotten this far, he decided. So I have to finish. His decision frightened him, but stronger than his fear of what would happen if he said everything, was his fear of what would happen if he and his older brother stopped talking. The rift would grow between them until they were as good as strangers.

That was the only way this situation could get worse. He needed his brother back. And if he kept a secret anger or disappointment, it would be like building a wall around himself, never letting Artham see part of his heart. That was what they had been doing.  That was what they had to stop. 

     “After the first couple of days, I never saw you grieve. I can’t tell what you are thinking anymore! This past week, I thought we were doing better. But now I can’t tell what’s real and what you are pretending. After the funeral, I-I just didn’t know what to think.” Esben paused and ran his hands through his hair, looking up to the ceiling, then back at his brother.

     “How are you not, I don’t know, more affected by this? You have barely mentioned Papa, Mama and Aunt Illia unless you had too.” Esben’s voice had risen in frustration.

     “The Throne Warden’s vow says that you are supposed to be the one who remembers and reminds.   I must be missing something, because…” Esben’s voice shook. “It seems like you have forgotten them. The day we heard that they were gone-” Esben could feel all of the emotions that he had hidden in confusion from his brother rise to the surface and he realized that tears were streaming unchecked down his face. 

     “I didn’t know what we were going to do. But you promised me we would do it together. You said I wouldn’t have to do it alone.” He choked back a sob and continued shakily, throwing into the open the last thing that was hurting him, desperately praying to the Maker all at once that he was doing the right thing and that his brother wouldn’t leave again and that he wasn’t doing irreparable damage to their relationship, and that Artham would finally talk to him and that everything would be okay.  

     “I’ve never felt so alone.”