Season of Sunflowers

Everybody needs that one place to call their own. A special place where time has no meaning and worries belong to somebody else. For me, that place is in the old family barn at the very edge of our 50-acre property. Papa doesn’t go there. It’s the only place I can breathe freely.

The barn is small and brown with many holes in the siding and roof. It’s mostly uninhabitable in the winter, but summers are another story. A single horse is housed inside, my very own Hagar. He’s too old to be ridden, but life without his company would be no life at all.

This side of the property is close enough to the main road to allow the occasional wanderer. Wanderers like an old woman with only 5 teeth who was on the way to her ex-husbands’ wedding. There was another time I encountered two young children hiding behind a stall door. One was laughing, one was crying, but the whole time they never unclasped their hands. Not too long before that was a man looking for his dog who happened to arrive earlier and was keeping to himself in the second stall. The man was delighted to see his dog again.

Hagar and I love the company. It can be quite lonely on this big property. Especially in summer. That’s why I never close the door.

It’s one of those lonely summer days now. I’m brushing Hagar when a shadow falls at my feet. Turning around, I notice the outline of a boy. He must be a boy because he hasn’t quite grown into his shoulders yet. And he must be around my age, though I wouldn’t dare ask. Behind him, the sunflower fields sigh as if relieved at his presence.

“Hello,” the boy pants, breath filling the cave of his slim chest.

“Oh,” I reply, “Hello. You must be tired.”

I stand to offer my stool, but he shakes his head. His curly hair is ruffled. What a strange haircut.

“I’m not tired,” he lies, for I can see he is on the brink of exhaustion. A rosy hue is high in his cheeks and sweat dots the edge of his hairline. “I’ve come to see you,” he finally states.

“Me? Whatever for?” Nobody has come looking for me before. They’re always on their way elsewhere.

“I just thought you’d be lonely,” he mutters.

I can’t help myself. I laugh.

“Don’t laugh! I’m serious,” his cheeks flush a deeper crimson, “at least let me stay a while.”

“Be my guest,” I smile.

The boy tells me his name is David and he’s travelled a long way to see me. He tells me about his family, his home, and about his greatest passion.

“You’re telling me that there’s a comet that passes by Earth every 75 years? How do you know?”

“Scientists have been recording it for centuries,” he laughs at my astonished expression, “I won’t be able to see it till I’m an old man though.”

“When that time comes, maybe you’d enjoy some company,” I say lightheartedly.

David grows quiet. Finally, he says, “I should be going,” and stands. His neck is slightly bent as if the beams are much lower than they are, and he’s scared of hitting his head.

“Did I say something wrong?” I ask.

“No. It’s just late. I don’t want to keep you.” His gray eyes become cloudy.

And why not? I wonder. Instead, I remain silent, trying my very best not to pout.

“Don’t give me that face,” he chuckles, “I’ve got a lot to do and not enough time to do it. We’ll meet again.” His smile is so wide, it almost splits his narrow face in two. Right before he leaves, he bends low to plant a soft kiss across my cheekbone. I gasp, but before I can do anything more, he’s gone.

I sit on my stool for a long time holding that precious spot. Nobody has ever kissed me before. Should I tell mother? If papa finds out, he’ll never let me come back out here. No, this is much better left a secret.

Orange light filters into the room as the sun prepares to set. I’m watching the dancing sunflowers when a sharp pain shoots up my arm. I let go of my cheek and gasp. The pain spreads to my spine then up to my head. I must be having one of mother’s famous migraines. It’s like somebody has replaced my brain with boulders. I sit, holding my head and trying to keep my thoughts straight. When I look up, a figure is outlined in the doorway.

“You came back,” I smile, then, realizing that the figure isn’t David, say, “I’m sorry. I thought you were somebody else. How can I help you sir?” I try to stand, but the pain in my head is too great. A wave of nausea forces me back on the stool.

The man is old enough to need a cane. The skin on his face and neck sag and his hands are covered in large brown spots. He wears a flat cap and what appears to be a brown leather jacket.

“I came back,” he says in a croaky voice. He hobbles to stand before me, “Goodness. You haven’t changed a bit. Can’t say I’m surprised though.”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, sir. We’ve never met before,” I stand and try to retreat, but he steps in closer until my back is against the far wall and I’m forced to look up at his eyes. Storm gray eyes. Something slides into place.

“D-David?” I stammer, “What happened to you?”

“I lived,” he says, almost as an apology.

“It’s been an hour at most. You must be sick, o-or something. Let’s go to the house and call the doctor. We’ll sort this out,” I take his hand and turn to leave, but before I can step foot out the door, dread washes over me. I look down at our joined hands. There’s something achingly familiar about the sight. Why can’t I remember?

“What’s wrong? Weren’t you going to go outside?” he asks.

“No. I mean yes. I don’t know.” For some reason I know it’ll be bad if I step foot through that door. David walks ahead of me.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this night. Won’t you come with me?” he asks. Beyond him, the sunflowers seem to grow taller and sway violently, though I feel no wind. I try to pull my hand away. David holds on, but his face grows sad, the lines at the corners of his eyes turn down. He reaches in his jacket and pulls free a small, black device. When he opens it, an orange flame springs to life. I jump in response. With one last sorrowful look, he tosses the device right in front of Hagar. The hay immediately catches. I move to free him, but before I can manage, my horse of 13 years gives a last knowing look and vanishes as if he were never there.

“Do you see?” David asks.

“No,” Everything is wrong, and I can’t go outside. I can’t I can’t I—

David pulls me free from the structure in one swift tug. I watch as the ceiling falls in and the fire swallows everything I love. When I finally turn around, it’s night. What’s more, the fields that once housed thousands of sunflowers are now barren.

“What—” I begin to ask.

“Not yet.” David’s voice is different. I look at him closely and realize that he’s young again. Like he was not so long ago. His brown curls shine in the pale glow of the moon and his cheeks are rough with new stubble. I gaze down at our hands, which are still clasped. His long fingers thread through my own much smaller ones. There was once a young boy and girl holding hands like this, to not get separated. The boy was crying, but the girl wasn’t. With a final smile, she was gone. Like Hagar. How long ago was that? The boy had looked up at me with eyes of a morning storm and asked when he would see his sister again. What did I tell him?

“When the time is right,” David answers, somehow reading my thoughts. “It’s right now. Can you feel it?” His head lifts to the sky. I follow his gaze to look upon the night, and my breath is stolen from my chest, my pain all but forgotten. Above us are thousands of stars glittering like precious gems. The moon is an enormous orb casting a majestic light on the grounds. And among it all, among the millions of mysteries that my small mind couldn’t begin to comprehend, is a comet sliding cleanly across the black canvas.

“Can you feel it, Halley?”

I tear my gaze away to find David looking at me. He raises my hand to his lips, and we shed our summer leaves.

Yes.