It’s a Saturday. Saturdays are usually my favorite days. I can sleep in. I have an excuse not to leave the house. I can read.

But I’ve been staring at the words of a new fantasy book, and it’s… bland. It seemed promising. The characters are swept away to another world, and with the help of a lizard man, they are trying to find someone that can help them return home.

But I just. Don’t. Care.

I let the book fall from my hands and roll to stare at my ceiling. It’s a re-creation of Van Gogh’s Starry Night. Jasper did it. He’s good at those things, artsy things. Creative things.

I sometimes think he got most of the creative genes. He’s good at music, at art; I don’t think I’ve ever seen him struggle at anything in those.

His music teacher called him brilliant, his art teacher called him a prodigy, and he’s still humble about it. I can’t even color in the lines, and he can paint, draw, and sculpt masterpieces. And he can play by ear, if you can hum it, then he can play it.

Ruby got the technical genes. She always aced her math classes. When we were younger, she would take things apart to see how they worked and somehow always managed to put them back together. She taught herself about cars. She used to go on and on about engines and parts that I didn’t know the purpose of.

And me. I’m not sure what I got.

Butters bumps against my hand when it moves, and I think of how Ruby used to take him on walks. I could do that. He might enjoy it, and my room feels too small all of the sudden.

Stuffy.

And then there’s the fact that typically Ruby would’ve come crashing in by now, trying to pull me out of my room.

It’s only mid-afternoon, but this is the time she would normally be waking up. She’d bang on my door, surprised that I was already awake, and insist we go to the mall, or the park, or somewhere to get out of the house.

I was never much of an outdoorsy type, but I want to be outside right now. I need to be. Being here, everything here, it reminds me of her, and I don’t want to think of her right now.

Thankfully, Butters’ harness and leash are on a hook by the front door. They’ve been untouched… since. I’m glad because I don’t want to go into her room, not yet. The doors been closed since Butters came out. None of us want to open it yet.

He doesn’t fight me to get into the harness, and his tail lazily sways. When I snap the leash, I hear him purring.

I head to the park nearby. It’s about a 15-minute walk from the house, and it’d be faster to drive, but I don’t have a car, and well, I don’t like driving anyway.

I could bike, but I’m not sure how Butters would feel about that.

Ashland Terrace Park is one of the spots for teens in the city. Mostly because it’s one of the few places to spend time for free.

There’s always walking around the mall, of course, but technically groups of teens are supposed to be accompanied by an adult. Not that anyone ever abides by that rule.

The park’s got gazebos with coal grills next to them, two huge playgrounds, a soccer field, basketball court, dog park, skating ramps, a considerably long hiking/running trail, and picnic tables around a manmade lake.

Most of us simply call it The Ash, and normally teens and children can be found in every inch of it.

It was one of Ruby’s favorite places to go since it was so close to our house. Butters knows exactly which direction to go—he’s probably walked this route many times with Ruby. She loved the shock factor of having a leash-trained cat.

I breathe in the fresh air with a hint of rain. The sky is clear at the moment, but I have no doubt it’ll be pouring before the day is over.

When I get to The Ash, I head towards one of the hiking trails. I want to avoid the playground, picnic areas, and skating ramps, as that’s where most anyone my age will be on a Saturday.

It’s not that I’m worried about running into someone I know, because I don’t really know that many people – it’s more of I don’t want to be seen by those that know of me. I can’t seem to go anywhere without being offered condolences.

Without nosey people wanting to ask about Ruby. The morbid curiosity of some people… it disgusts me.

The other day I even had a barista telling me how sorry they were for my loss when I stopped for coffee before school.

Apparently, their little brother goes to school with me or something. I stopped paying attention after the first pity look, but I did end up with free coffee.

Which is honestly weird. Why do people give grieving people free food and stuff?

Because we’ve experienced one of the darkest aspects of life? Because they feel bad for us and that’s the only way to make them feel better, to feel as if they’ve helped in some way?

I find the remnants of a bike trail. It’s small and nearly overgrown, but still flat enough to walk through, and Butters is having fun climbing over the fallen branches.

Nature closes in around me until it’s me and my thoughts.

I’m not so sure that’s a good thing. I don’t want to think right now.

Birdsong trills through the air and slants of light pierce through the leaves. There’s the crunch of undergrowth. Butters paws at a butterfly as it flies past. He rumbles out a purr.

Nature used to make me itch, but it wasn’t allergies or anything like that. It was more of the idea of the bugs and how small I feel surrounded by trees. I never liked how tall they were. How they seemed to enshroud me.

The road could be a few feet away, but if someone brought me here in the middle of the night, I’d have no clue. You can get lost amongst the trees.

And it’s like they want you to lose yourself in them. Like they’re whispering, come closer, child. Like some ancient, primal instinct recognizes that these trees have seen more than I’ll probably ever see in my lifetime.

Or possibly I’ve read too many books involving witches snatching kids out of the forest, or fairies leading travelers astray.

But now I sort of appreciate it, this feeling of smallness. I want to lay on the pathway and let the leaves and vines swallow me up. I want to follow the whispers of the trees until I can no longer find my way back. Perhaps, I’ll skip right into another world where no one ever dies and Ruby…

It isn’t until Butters pulls the leash that I realize I haven’t moved. I start forward again, slowly, feeling as if I’m in a fog. I think I could’ve stood there forever.

I wish that I could have.