dig

Hit
by Hetre Z

He hits every day. Rushing down the stairs and turning back again, listening to his mother yell and call for dinner, breakfast, lunch. Swipes his hand soft over the railing and stares down the well, watching the other kids on the bottom floor playing with kickballs. They wait for him, staring at the steps, up one up two, and they're too young to climb it. The only reason he isn't too young is because he lives up there, has forever. Five and six years old and they're waiting in the lobby like he's a movie star, or a grown up.

He hits every day. Grilled cheese sandwich at midday and his mother actually smiles when he says it's nice. She's wearing an apron with flowers on it, burned in some places and glazed with food in others. He wonders what his father's going to eat when he gets home, but the other kids are waiting and his mother's still smiling, so he doesn't ask. Kisses her on the cheek, like he's supposed to, like she's his mother and he loves her. Rushes down the stairs gripping the railing tight.

He hits every day, reaching the highest arc on the swingset without even trying. He hits the ceiling of the hallway in school with his fingers, jumps a little farther than everyone and can brag a little longer. Gets into little fights where he throws sticks and grass and laughs. He gets into bigger fights where they roll around in the dirt, scrabbling like those mice that take sandbaths, the ones he saw at the petstore. He used to think it was love, that you always hit them when you wanted to say thank you or it's nice to see you. He used to think that's why his father and his mother were still together, father saying I love you every day the way he did.

He hits every day. The darkness hits back. The streetlights beg him to stay out, and he says I can't but I want to. He doesn't rush up the way he rushed down, but trails his fingers along the railing soft, like it's a friend. He never gets into fights with friends anymore, he knows that's not what love is. He says it now by tracing his fingers up and down gentle, saying I'm coming, please wait for me, so softly that they can't even hear it.