RIP Cain. I miss you everyday.
It was 6:00 p.m. The sun was fading and the snow silently sprinkled over the tops of the trees outside. Alice frantically applied eyeliner using the mirror in her bedroom. Every few seconds she would run to her computer—worried that Cain might sign off. She found it odd that over the past two years this had become her love life. She returned to the mirror and continued applying makeup as a smile began to creep up the side of her face at the thought of him.
One day, as the snow began to fall, so did Alice. The two were on a skype call. Silent. Staring. The kind of stare that floods your soul. The kind of stare that fills your heart with immense hope and immense fear simultaneously. The kind of stare that causes floods, hurricanes, and the sweetest of disasters.
“Sing me a lullaby,” requested Cain. The words fell out of his cigarette-kissed lips as he sat in a virtual, mysterious darkness on Alice’s laptop screen. The only light visible in his room was a clock to his left that constantly flashed red eights.
“You should really go to sleep. It must be nearly four in England now, no?” said Alice as she quickly scanned the room for her guitar.
“Even more reason for a lullaby,” said Cain.
“Alright, alright.” A quiet laughter escaped Alice. She reached for her fender acoustic guitar and returned to the laptop at her desk. She had been writing Cain a song all day. She sang the lullaby to the blurry image. Every note and every melody she felt in her bones.
“I need you to know, today, I’ll wait for you always,” she sang—closing her eyes and picturing his eyes in front of hers—his arm right beside hers. She didn’t know why the tears came, but she let them. She hoped they wouldn’t scare him. She wiped them away as she finished the song.
“You’re perfect,” he whispered, “but sleep is summoning me. I’ll call you tomorrow, my love, so I can watch your smile crawl up the side of your face some more. Until next time.”
Alice blew him a kiss and giggled as Cain instantly caught it with his hand. He was so close, yet 8,000 miles away. She closed her laptop and hopped into bed.
The next morning, Alice stayed in bed longer than usual. She didn’t want to wake up—her bed was much too warm and cozy. Plus, she had dreamt of Cain that night. She dreamt that they were at the beach in her small Connecticut town. They were holding hands and walking barefoot in the warm sand. They were talking, like always, but this time they were touching too. She would laugh and he would delicately tuck her hair behind her ear. She dreamt they were a real couple.
Alice’s fantasy was suddenly interrupted by a loud ring originating from her laptop. She approached her desk and answered Cain’s Skype call. She was surprised to see Cain’s camera was turned off.
“I can’t see your beautiful face!” Alice teased.
“A-I’m a mega scruff. B-I sound silly,” Cain replied.
“C-I love you and your scruff, therefore D-I don’t care,” Alice responded.
“E-No, I really need to shave. F-And I’ve got tired eyes.”
“Enough,” laughed Alice. “Just one passionate look into your eyes before I get ready for school?”
“Sorry darling. Not this morning. I just wanted to call you to remind you that you are my world. I think I met you for good reason, Alice. I hope you know that,” he said before abruptly ending the call.
Alice thought about the morning call all day while at school. She had this sense of loss and heartbreak, but she didn’t understand why.
“Can you really fall in love with someone you’ve never met?” She thought—completely blurring out her calculus teacher’s repetitive lecture.
“I hope so… I mean, everyone I know is an asshole.”
The teacher continued to mumble numbers in the background of her rapid moving thoughts.
“How has someone I don’t even know gotten to me like this?” She worried.
She felt he was part of her like the blood in her veins. Her breathing grew short as she felt this empty hole spreading from her stomach to her chest to her heart. This pain was new. It was unbearable and unexplainable. It was irrational and all encompassing. She got up from her desk in a hurry and ran outside. The crisp, winter air instantly slapped her sunken face.
“If this is love, it fucking sucks,” she thought to herself.
That night, Alice decided it was time to confront Cain. She rushed home from school, opened her bedroom door, and signed onto Skype—backpack still over her shoulder and her face still red from the cold air outside. After a few rings, she finally connected to Cain. His camera was turned off once again.
“Cain, I need you to turn your camera on. I need to see you. Please.”
Cain sighed, “Listen, Alice. I’m okay. It’s all going to be okay, and I need you to understand this before I turn my camera on.”
“You’re scaring me. What’s going on? I hate this! Please.” Alice couldn’t seem to stop her fears from escaping in the form of short, frantic phrases.
Cain’s image suddenly appeared on Alice’s screen. He didn’t have to say much—she could tell he was sick. His face was dark, his eyes were tired. He looked lost and scared. Alice had never seen him like this before. He had a terrible cough-it shook Alice with a great deal of fear and sadness. They sat in silence for what seemed like hours to Alice. They stared at each other. But, this kind of stare was hopeless. It was the kind of stare that haunts you for a million years. This kind of stare was empty and scared. It was lonely and lost. It was a goodbye stare—filled with the remains of broken hopes and forgotten dreams. It was a stare between almost lovers.
Alice didn’t sleep that night. She replayed the Skype call in her head over and over again. She couldn’t understand why she wanted to feel the slice of his words repeating, “the cancer has returned.” She watched as the fantasy world she had built for them froze over night. His touch grew icy and distant as the warm beach she had previously imagined grew cold and dark.
“This isn’t fair,” she kept saying to herself as the tears poured like rivers from her eyes. It was nearly 3:00 a.m. Alice needed to write. She picked up her guitar and began to play. She thought about the past year, and the fact that someone so far away was able to bring her so much happiness. She knew there must be a reason why they met, yet the cut was still fresh and unbearably painful. She wrote through the sunrise.
A week later, so much had happened. Cain’s cancer progressed rapidly, sending him to the hospital. Alice spent her nights at home, writing, and leaving her laptop powered off. She was able to slightly grasp an understanding of her relationship with Cain. Over the course of two years, she had written over thirty songs—every single one about Cain. The good and the bad—she wrote about it all. Cain was her muse. It took one week for Alice to write Cain’s final song. It was morning when she finally wrote the last chorus. The sun had melted the patches of snow outside—leaving grassy bits—still alive underneath—with new visibility.
“Before you go, I hope you know, I have never been so happy. You have made me oh, so happy. When it gets cold, and the rain—it falls, I will hold on to the happy. I’ll hold on to the happy,” she sang, reminiscing on a love that almost and will always be.
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