Helen Brown

Chapter 4.

His words linger, rendering me mute for a moment. As mere human beings, we are all prone to making mistakes. It is a profound reality that strikes a deep chord with me, reminding me that goodness and badness are not static. We are nuances of intricacy navigating our decisions.

His words linger, making me pause before I can respond. Nobody is perfect good or perfect bad. While some struggle more with light, others with darkness.

I invite him to contribute a little of himself by saying, "It is your turn." Our rooftop talk takes on a sombre tone as Arden's disclosure strikes a deep chord with us. His admission reveals a heartbreaking story that reverberates throughout my mind, permanently imprinting me with grief and outrage.

With a sorrowful tone, he says, "I witnessed a little boy die tonight." He had just turned five years old. The rifle his brother found unintentionally went off.

His remarks leave me with a terrifying mental image of a catastrophe that is too big to ignore and lingers in the air. I can feel the pain in Arden's voice, and it is making me feel a lot of different things.

"That poor boy's brother," I mumble, trying to process the significance of the tale. "It is unimaginable how witnessing something that horrible will affect him."

Arden appears aloof, absorbed in his own thoughts. "It will destroy him for the rest of his life,"

I turn to face him and hold up my hand to prop my head up as he speaks. Is it challenging? coping with such catastrophes on a daily basis? I inquire, a hint of empathy in my voice.

His eyes meet mine and he says, "It should be a lot harder." However, death becomes more and more a part of life the more of it I encounter. I am not sure what my thoughts are on that. His eyes dart around, looking for something in my eyes, some mutual comprehension in the dark corners of these tales.

"Give me another one," he says, trying to divert attention from his sobering epiphany in order to find something else to occupy his time or possibly a means of carrying on exploring the depths of reality and the human condition.

"Today I gave my father's eulogy," I admit, the recollection still vivid. "I was hesitant to do it, but my mother asked me to." In reality, I did not appreciate my father enough to give him the kind of praise he deserved, but I pretended to be too emotional to say so.

Arden's curiosity takes hold. "Did you follow through on it?"

I adjust my stance to face him more squarely and nod. I answer, "Yes, this morning." "Do you want to hear it?" Taken aback by his sincere curiosity, I extend my offer.

He smiles and says, "Yes," his desire inspiring me to sort through the jumbled feelings and contradictory sentiments that permeated my eulogy.

The unexpectedly honest admission from Arden makes my head spin. His remarks have left me stunned, not just because of their audacity but also because of the depth of feeling they arouse in me. I struggle with a mixture of admiration, amazement, and strange respect for his unabashed candour.

His words resound in my head, "I want to f**k you," briefly disorienting me. I try to concentrate my thoughts and focus my attention on the far-off horizon. Although I could feel a spark between us, the directness with which he expresses it makes me feel both amazed and uneasy about how to react.

Arden seems unperturbed by his admission and keeps his composure. It is both fascinating and unnerving how casual he seems about the whole thing. He seemed to have exposed a reality that we were both aware of but had been too cautious to face.

Finally, I manage to respond, seeming more determined than I actually am: "Well, I am not into one-night stands."

With a casual tone, he replies, "I thought as much." "It is your turn."

My thoughts race as I attempt to comprehend his bold candour. Such a frank and audacious revelation caught me off guard, especially on a calm evening on a rooftop.

With a hint of surprise in my voice, I concede, "I was not prepared for that." "It is surprising how open and willing you are to share anything."

Arden smiles mischievously. "I prefer things to be clear-cut and honest."

"I get that," I cautiously respond. "However, I guess I was not expecting it to be so simple."

He laughs and says, "I tend to be a little too plain sometimes."

I cast a quick glance at him, his features accentuated by the soft glow of the city lights against the backdrop of the night sky. "Well, you definitely succeeded in taking me by surprise."

He reclines in his lounger and looks up at the stars. "I am sorry if I caused you any discomfort."

I tell him, still attempting to take in the abrupt change in our discourse, "It is okay."

He asks again, "Your turn," bringing the attention back to me.

His audacious announcement still has an aftereffect that makes it difficult to think clearly. "I, uh—" I stammer, reaching for something sincere but not quite so shocking. "I used to act as though I liked someone just to avoid upsetting them. It continued longer than it ought to have.

Arden nods, taking my admission into account. "It seems like people do that a lot. Even if it means hurting someone else's feelings, it is easier to spare their feelings.

I feel vulnerable in a lot of ways as a result of the open discussion. There seems to be a breach in the wall that exposes parts of who we would usually keep hidden. Sincerity, in its unadulterated and unfiltered form, has a strange way of either drawing people closer together or driving them farther apart, I have realised as I look for new things to say. And it could be a little bit of both with Arden. I shift uneasily, feeling the conversation's weight bearing down on me. I am curious but also wary of Arden's bluntness and thought-provoking questions. The insights of the evening have provided a glimpse into each other's lives and exposed our vulnerabilities in unexpected ways.

I try to find the appropriate words, attempting to be transparent but also careful not to reveal too much. "It is not really about 'how far,'" I say as I start to form my ideas. "It has to do with rapport. To me, emotional connection is more important than physical contact."