Rick by fiery whisper

Rick

As the diversion took us through Sevington, I saw the bright ball of fire sinking behind the far off golden fields, and with it my hopes. The streak of light that was outlining the grass in golden yellow shades, now became grey and the green ness of the fields were replaced by stony colours, as if mocking my fate. I felt the clumsy steps as I let free the reins on the horse and brought my hands together to pray for my brother, my only brother Rick.

I lied in my prayers and maybe that is why I got no answer. I promised God that Rick would turn into a saint. I promised Him that I would make sure Rick behaved like a perfect human being. But I was lying, I knew in my heart that such a thing would never happen. I couldn’t help it, I saw the life of one of my most favourite person in the world slipping out of his hands, and I did whatever I could. There wasn’t much I could do. There wasn’t much anyone else could have done. But the feeling of helplessness would not go away and in the end I hugged Storm and cried as he took us home.

It had happened two days ago. Rick’s friend, Jaime had arrived at my doorstep absolutely frazzled with dressing on a large part of his chest and his left hand on a sling. It was my first thought to throw him out of the house, secretly happy that the insolent maniac had gotten what he deserved. I had never liked Rick’s friends, but Rick being himself did not care. And then with sudden horror, I realized that his friend was alone. Rick had not come back.

An hour later, I was on my way aboard Storm, my aged horse and the only one in our little village, carrying a sack filled with the little food that our house usually had. I felt bad to take it and that too for Rick, when Rick did not really represent model behaviour, but my wife insisted. Inwardly though, I was glad. Despite all of Rick’s vices, he was still my brother, my own blood and I was happy that my wife understood this very well.

I wasn’t sure Storm would last the journey. No one had ridden him for a long time, and his pace was slow and clumsy. But I couldn’t go to Sevington on foot. I was prepared to sacrifice Storm, the horse which had basically grown up with me, for Rick, my brother whose motto in this world was that he did not care. Rick did not care what I thought, Rick did not care what my wife thought, Rick did not care what anyone thought, except for maybe my little son, whom Rick loved more than anyone else.

Our village was a small one, it was secluded and it was very poor. We lived by farming but the weather was unsuitable and the result was poor crop. Sometimes, there was no rain for months and then we came up with nothing. Those were the difficult times, when we had to cross miles to fish. Neither of the professions were profitable, and none of us could hope for better. You could say that it didn’t occur to us that things could actually improve.

If you ever come here, to visit someone maybe, though I don’t expect you to, you’ll get to see how monotonous and boring life can be. It has been ages since we last had a gathering. There’s been no joy in our village for a very long time. We were the same clothes day after day, we eat the same food everyday if we have any and we get married to the only people available. You might wonder why we don’t go to the nearest town, it’s just that we don’t have money. Trade takes place in the form of barter, and so there’s nothing we can do.

I think it was this sorry state of our village which made Rick an outcast. Rick had once travelled to Ashford town, without my consent of course. He was gone for a week with a friend. Rick had returned, a changed man, and his friend had vanished. There were whispers that Rick had killed his friend, and the whispers became louder as it became more apparent that Rick was a smuggler. But no one openly admitted it. Even I didn’t, Rick was a black sheep, but a saint to me.

Rick and his gang were smugglers, and it was common knowledge. Often during thefts, Rick was blamed, but he had sworn to me that he did not steal. I believed him, and still do. Rick is like that; you love him and hate him at the same time. Sometimes, when the county sheriff felt like, he came over and warned Rick. Of course, he never took action, and that was common knowledge too. Rick was safe from the law, but not from his friends.

I don’t know exactly what he smuggle. I was concerned, but Rick never listened to me. He bought me a shirt or my wife a dress once a while, but mostly he brought sweets for my little son.

When Rick did come back, he came with unknown faces and huge packages. Nobody knew what these packages contained, and nobody asked Rick about it. I don’t know why. As it was people did not talk to him, but I did, though I never asked. Rick was a silent person mostly, only answering the most needful questions, if at all. He was not the one who showed any feelings for anyone.

Often Rick bought food for the whole village. Our village had maybe five large families, if you went up the family tree, I’m sure we’d be all related, so in my generation we were five families with very distant relations. The village men did not feel guilty about eating his food, they didn’t find it necessary to thank Rick either. They just took the food and left, and I don’t know why Rick allowed. I asked him once, and he just smiled at me. That was Rick, everything for himself, all pain, misery, sufferings and happiness all for him and all inside him. I think he wouldn’t have minded if he was the single man on earth. But only this time, Rick had not come back, Jaime had.

Jaime was the only grandson of the eldest man in the village. He was the naughty, outcast from a very small age, and he was Rick’s junior by at least ten seasons. That’s how we count time when we need to. No one wants to spend pages drawing up a calendar and we don’t need it anyway. Rick was not particularly keen in being associated with Jaime, but Jaime was sincere and jolly and you could do little but like him if Jaime liked. And so that was how Jaime had joined Rick’s circle.

Jaime knew about Rick’s friend who had vanished. Jaime knew the whole story but he never told anyone. After that incident, the two were quite close, Rick playing the part of the older brother. I wished someday I would get to know, and that someday maybe doubts would vanish too, but I had never ever thought that this day would come.

I turned around briefly on my horse to see the pale face of Rick lying behind me. Rick and Jaime had had a clash with his other ‘friends’ about some deal and they had a fight outside Sevington church, which was more than a mile away from Ashford village. Both were badly hurt, but Rick’s injuries were worse. He had a broken leg and could not walk. So leaving Rick inside the church, Jaime had walked all the way to Ashford for help. But, Jaime had collapsed as soon as he knocked in the door of a cottage.

A day later, when Jaime regained his senses, he had basically ran back for me. He knew that no one else would help Rick. Sevington church was two miles away and it wasn’t till the next day that I reached the church. Rick had been lying on the white floor, now red, and when he saw me, he said he was sorry. I was crying from that moment. Rick never said he was sorry. It was almost as if he knew that this was it. This was over.

Rick was lying in the floor, over a pool of blood, his mouth slightly open, his eyes shut in pain. His clothes were caked with blood, his bright golden hair was streaked with red, his face had patches of blue and purple. His hands were clutching his right knee even in his semi conscious state. It was causing a great deal of pain, and it was this state of Rick that brought out the tears in my eyes.

I quickly moved closer, trying hard to control my emotions so that I could think clearly, but every time my eyes so the blood, the red blood freely flowing out of Rick’s body, a fresh batch of tears struggled out. Rick was going pale, his lips were already blue. I didn’t know if picking him up would be a great idea, I was scared that it might let out more blood.

‘Rick,’ I called, tentatively crouching down so that I was close to him. I placed my hand on Rick’s forehead and it was cold, freezing cold.

Rick tried to open his eyes, tried to form words, but both sight and sound failed him. I waited patiently. Rick was still the same old Rick, even now, Rick was trying. Rick always tried. Rick’s hand left his knee, and the leg fell on the ground like a piece of toy. I flinched, but there was no change in Rick’s expression. He must have lost senses on the leg.

Rick opened his mouth again, and his voice came out coarse. Only a single word sounded, but I couldn’t make it out. It was okay, I assured him, everything was fine, I told him, we were going home, I said again. But I didn’t know if it was Rick I was reassuring or if it was myself. Rick smiled, a small smile were his blue lips only curved upwards for a fraction of a second.

I smiled amidst my tears. What was it about Rick, I wondered. What was it about Rick that made you like him, when most people would say Rick was asking for his current miserable state. I really wouldn’t know, but all I could do was pray. Pray for Rick’s life. Pray that he lived. Pray that he changed. Pray that he remained the same old Rick, but just a little less confused.

Rick opened his mouth again, and I listened intently. Rick’s voice was smoother this time, deeper like his usual voice, and just a little broken. He said sorry. Rick was sorry. I couldn’t resist hugging him then. Rick never said sorry. I never thought he knew the word existed. Rick was smiling again, but I was crying. Crying loudly.

‘What for Rick? Sorry for what? You haven’t done anything wrong, except that you’re losing hope. Let’s go, Rick, everyone’s waiting.’ I felt bad to lie. No one was waiting. I had seen them happy, bright smiles on some faces, just a speck of sadness on some others. Won’t they forgive him this time? Rick was in his death bed.

Rick said, ‘No worries brother. I’ll meet you in heaven. If He will have me.’ His finger pointed upwards.

It was sad in a way that the whole thing took place outside a church. Though the church had been out of use for many years now, still it was a church. I think it was Rick’s plan to meet them in this spot, Rick did not believe in God. Neither did Jaime, though he still showed some fear. I had heard them conversing once, and I wasn’t too happy with what I had heard. But talking to Rick about it was like talking to a wall, no response.

Rick was a mystery that very few could solve. I had wondered once whether cold hearted criminals felt love for anyone. And the face of Rick had appeared in my thoughts. I knew the answer then, that they in fact could, though theirs was one of a kind. I knew that if I was ever in trouble, even in a life and death situation, Rick would give himself up without a second thought. And it wasn’t only if it was me, if it was anyone whom he knew, had met before, or spoken to, anyone, and that was why Rick was Rick.

I turned around again, this time not stopping the tears which flowed down my cheeks, and felt for Rick’s heart. Even though I had known it to be true, even though I had been pushing Storm for too long, even though I knew I was too late, I still felt devastated when instead of the familiar beat, all I felt was cold dried blood. Rick was dead.