For Erin in CA
Not exactly what you wanted, I know. Sorry. No gift wrapping frenzies in the circus, or Toby table top dancing or George trying to drown himself in the eggnog. Just angst, and Toby sounding vaguely like a certain Southern Gentleman we know *coughRutledgecough*
Title: Broken China
Rating: G
Summary: Toby writes a letter to his brother back in Hungary.
- Augustus
Remember?
It was there, up on the mantelpiece before you broke it in some fit of anger. It was rather pretty, like you were once, and I was, and we all were. That little china pot with the blues and purples all over the sides. But you broke it. And I hate you for it.
Hate you like I hate Father for leaving us and Karl for taking him away. Now there’s nothing left but Mother in the garden crying something terrible and you standing there at the window watching and not doing anything.
You said I was to be the jewel of the family. The jewel of our newborn nation, but you were always dreaming big. Dreaming grand while the rest of us were just simply dreaming.
But no, I’m not the jewel of the family. Augustus you lied. But I kinda knew that. Like I kinda knew you were fibbing when you said I could fly if I flapped my arms hard enough. It didn’t work.
And it’s still broken on the hearth before the fire. Shining so bright with flames and light. Kinda pretty it is, with its creamy white turned orange from the hot glow. Why did you break it Augustus? It was your favorite.
But then Marie had been your favorite and you broke her. Broke her something good. She never smiled after that. When we all got home from church and you were in Father’s study smoking an American cigarette you got from one of your friends, and she was in the kitchen saying she had fallen down the stairs. But the rug hadn’t been messed up any and the railing was still shiny from the wax.
But now you’re sitting pretty on the porch, tea and biscuits in hand. But the pot isn’t the one you liked so much, so I know the tea is too bitter and hot. And you ignore me as I walk out, ignore your kid brother liked you ignored Marie after she broke.
So yes Augustus I hate you, like I hate Father and Karl. All of you for leaving us the way we were, the way we are, now that the earth has stopped shaking and the whistling has gone away. And I hate you especially for telling Mother about me and making me the coal instead of the diamond. No jewels for me, the youngest of the family.
Now mother’s gone inside and she’s not looking at me no more, like she didn’t look at Father before he went away. And Marie is a shell in the kitchen all full of sand cause the ocean pulled out so long ago.
Still by the window you sit, out on the porch with your shiny black shoes scuffing the white boards under your toes. You sit there rocking and looking so pretty and slight, a small little creature of beauty. Just sitting there and watching as the world passes you by cause you know that if you dare try to change us all again that the blue, blue sky would finally fall down on you and there wouldn’t be anyone there to save you.
But that was how it always was. Me so mad at Karl for taking Father, mad cause Mother was always wishing I hadn’t been born cause I wasn’t what she wanted. Even you weren’t what she wanted. You cause you broke Marie instead of marrying her like you were supposed to.
And the pot was always broken on the hearth, shattered so pretty down there after you threw it. I wish you hadn’t Augustus, I really wish you hadn’t. Because now Father will have to buy a new one and I won’t get new trousers for school. So the winter will be too cold and the summer too hot, like it always is.
I don’t think I can remember the summers anymore. The ones Anja used to talk about when she came down from her room, graceful and pale. Smelling like roses and the soft breeze from the mountains. I can’t remember those days at all, the ones with the cherries and the horses and the sweet, sunny, summer rain dripping down over us all. The taste of those days is gone, floated off with the memory the night Father went to town and never came back. Floated off the night you threw me off the balcony cause I said it was all your fault no one smiled any more. Floated off a long, long time ago.
So here I am writing to you Augustus, wishing I wasn’t, wishing I didn’t have to, wishing I didn’t hate you, wishing that Marie would smile again, and wishing that we would all just stop crying and give up on Father all together cause he’s not coming back. But then, wishes never did come true.
I’m writing to you to tell you that I still hate you but I’m willing to talk cause I heard that Marie was talking, and if she can talk then I can talk too. But I’m not going to talk to hard cause that’s your job, after you shut the door and ate the key - talking hard is your job.
Did you ever wonder where I went after mother did that thing and you glared at me till I was nothing but a vague memory in the house? Ever wonder if I made it? If I had a family and if it was better than ours? I went to the city Augustus, I went to the city and made it. Grandfather helped before he died. Did you know that? That he died? A long time ago, of something I couldn’t afford the medicine for. But I made it, though don’t come looking for me cause I’ve left the city and moved to the land of fairies and fog.
Is Caesar still there? Eating all the hay he’s not supposed to eat? And Mother, is she still sitting in the garden crying? Crying something terrible because crying is all she knows how to do. And you, brother mine. Are you still sitting in the green chair on the porch, with the hot tea and black shoes? Or are you dead? Dead from the blue, blue sky and the weight of it all. I hope you’re dead, very dead and that Marie is alive, very alive. Alive and smiling as she places a flower on you’re grave. Wouldn’t that be funny though? If she lived even after you broke her so.
Is father still gone with Karl? Still off rotting in a dank room for his Karl? Karl, now with an ‘A’, always did love his soldiers and if Father was anything, he was a soldier. George says father is still gone, off in never, never land of the sandman.
Don’t worry Augustus, George doesn’t know anything. Nothing at all, other than that he found me in the city where Grandfather used to live. A useless city bum trying to make his way. No one else knows anything either, not Peter, Mara, Bill, Jim, or Connie. They all know nothing, just sit around like lambs to the slaughter wondering if the world is going to end. And it’s not, but don’t tell them that for if you do, they might wake up.
I must go. Don’t bother to write if you’re dead, I’ll accept that as a plausible excuse for your cold feelings to your dear kid brother.
But if you’re alive just fix the pretty china pot for me. The one with all the pretty blues and purples all over it, the one that was creamy white but glowed orange the day you shattered it and it fell before the blazing fire. Just fix it, put it all back together so one day, maybe, we can be whole again.
Love &c.
T.E.
Title: Broken China
Rating: G
Summary: Toby writes a letter to his brother back in Hungary.
- Augustus
Remember?
It was there, up on the mantelpiece before you broke it in some fit of anger. It was rather pretty, like you were once, and I was, and we all were. That little china pot with the blues and purples all over the sides. But you broke it. And I hate you for it.
Hate you like I hate Father for leaving us and Karl for taking him away. Now there’s nothing left but Mother in the garden crying something terrible and you standing there at the window watching and not doing anything.
You said I was to be the jewel of the family. The jewel of our newborn nation, but you were always dreaming big. Dreaming grand while the rest of us were just simply dreaming.
But no, I’m not the jewel of the family. Augustus you lied. But I kinda knew that. Like I kinda knew you were fibbing when you said I could fly if I flapped my arms hard enough. It didn’t work.
And it’s still broken on the hearth before the fire. Shining so bright with flames and light. Kinda pretty it is, with its creamy white turned orange from the hot glow. Why did you break it Augustus? It was your favorite.
But then Marie had been your favorite and you broke her. Broke her something good. She never smiled after that. When we all got home from church and you were in Father’s study smoking an American cigarette you got from one of your friends, and she was in the kitchen saying she had fallen down the stairs. But the rug hadn’t been messed up any and the railing was still shiny from the wax.
But now you’re sitting pretty on the porch, tea and biscuits in hand. But the pot isn’t the one you liked so much, so I know the tea is too bitter and hot. And you ignore me as I walk out, ignore your kid brother liked you ignored Marie after she broke.
So yes Augustus I hate you, like I hate Father and Karl. All of you for leaving us the way we were, the way we are, now that the earth has stopped shaking and the whistling has gone away. And I hate you especially for telling Mother about me and making me the coal instead of the diamond. No jewels for me, the youngest of the family.
Now mother’s gone inside and she’s not looking at me no more, like she didn’t look at Father before he went away. And Marie is a shell in the kitchen all full of sand cause the ocean pulled out so long ago.
Still by the window you sit, out on the porch with your shiny black shoes scuffing the white boards under your toes. You sit there rocking and looking so pretty and slight, a small little creature of beauty. Just sitting there and watching as the world passes you by cause you know that if you dare try to change us all again that the blue, blue sky would finally fall down on you and there wouldn’t be anyone there to save you.
But that was how it always was. Me so mad at Karl for taking Father, mad cause Mother was always wishing I hadn’t been born cause I wasn’t what she wanted. Even you weren’t what she wanted. You cause you broke Marie instead of marrying her like you were supposed to.
And the pot was always broken on the hearth, shattered so pretty down there after you threw it. I wish you hadn’t Augustus, I really wish you hadn’t. Because now Father will have to buy a new one and I won’t get new trousers for school. So the winter will be too cold and the summer too hot, like it always is.
I don’t think I can remember the summers anymore. The ones Anja used to talk about when she came down from her room, graceful and pale. Smelling like roses and the soft breeze from the mountains. I can’t remember those days at all, the ones with the cherries and the horses and the sweet, sunny, summer rain dripping down over us all. The taste of those days is gone, floated off with the memory the night Father went to town and never came back. Floated off the night you threw me off the balcony cause I said it was all your fault no one smiled any more. Floated off a long, long time ago.
So here I am writing to you Augustus, wishing I wasn’t, wishing I didn’t have to, wishing I didn’t hate you, wishing that Marie would smile again, and wishing that we would all just stop crying and give up on Father all together cause he’s not coming back. But then, wishes never did come true.
I’m writing to you to tell you that I still hate you but I’m willing to talk cause I heard that Marie was talking, and if she can talk then I can talk too. But I’m not going to talk to hard cause that’s your job, after you shut the door and ate the key - talking hard is your job.
Did you ever wonder where I went after mother did that thing and you glared at me till I was nothing but a vague memory in the house? Ever wonder if I made it? If I had a family and if it was better than ours? I went to the city Augustus, I went to the city and made it. Grandfather helped before he died. Did you know that? That he died? A long time ago, of something I couldn’t afford the medicine for. But I made it, though don’t come looking for me cause I’ve left the city and moved to the land of fairies and fog.
Is Caesar still there? Eating all the hay he’s not supposed to eat? And Mother, is she still sitting in the garden crying? Crying something terrible because crying is all she knows how to do. And you, brother mine. Are you still sitting in the green chair on the porch, with the hot tea and black shoes? Or are you dead? Dead from the blue, blue sky and the weight of it all. I hope you’re dead, very dead and that Marie is alive, very alive. Alive and smiling as she places a flower on you’re grave. Wouldn’t that be funny though? If she lived even after you broke her so.
Is father still gone with Karl? Still off rotting in a dank room for his Karl? Karl, now with an ‘A’, always did love his soldiers and if Father was anything, he was a soldier. George says father is still gone, off in never, never land of the sandman.
Don’t worry Augustus, George doesn’t know anything. Nothing at all, other than that he found me in the city where Grandfather used to live. A useless city bum trying to make his way. No one else knows anything either, not Peter, Mara, Bill, Jim, or Connie. They all know nothing, just sit around like lambs to the slaughter wondering if the world is going to end. And it’s not, but don’t tell them that for if you do, they might wake up.
I must go. Don’t bother to write if you’re dead, I’ll accept that as a plausible excuse for your cold feelings to your dear kid brother.
But if you’re alive just fix the pretty china pot for me. The one with all the pretty blues and purples all over it, the one that was creamy white but glowed orange the day you shattered it and it fell before the blazing fire. Just fix it, put it all back together so one day, maybe, we can be whole again.
Love &c.
T.E.