He Should Be

• Anthony Villella, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2022

The wholeness of nature awaits you. It is like the earth is heaven, and that heaven is the earth; but already it was impossible to distinguish. Truly in awe, my daydreaming came to a sudden halt - Somebody entered the house. I knew it was Joseph just by the way he walked. His footsteps were slow strides that swept the floor like a housemaid's broom.He left sand in his tracks from the beach, he didn’t mind bringing it in as he’d already had a residence of sand grains lying around. Sun-damaged eyes moved ever so slowly side to side. They stung, bloodshot red from the saltwater. He wasn’t hunched, although he moved like he should be. Pressing his hands onto the table, his fingernails were long, the type of long that made you uncomfortable with dirt far up beneath them.

As he left the room, a wave of crude body odour spread inside, as the breeze carried his sour stench to settle in my presence. A grubby smell of onion chips, with the fingers, licked clean of crumbs. What else had he touched with those hands? Nevertheless, I followed him outside to the surfboard shed which held uneven sheets of colourbond sheet metal above his vast collection of surfboards, shading us from the dense Australian sun. Like sheep to a shepherd, the boards all lined up to be waxed by their owner. He spoke to them. “I've done you, and you, and…” dragging his finger across the gripped seal of wax on fibreglass, the cracks and bumps through the layers - imperfect as he was. It bought him stability. Not only the grip of the wax while surfing, but a deeper sense of stability inside himself. I watched him, mumbling to them. Reassuring them that they would all get the same amount of wax, and that he would use each and every one of them equally. I wondered why he did that. It seemed like a strange thing to do but I could feel something changing in the air. I could see it in his eyes, that bittersweet feeling he had when he cared for those boards. Did those boards symbolise him? the love he never received?. My initial interaction with him was in irritation, but now I feel different. There was a reason he was like this. There was a reason he carried himself this way. Guilt fell on me like a cold blanket. How could I be so judgemental to make assumptions about this guy? Or what he should be doing? I don’t know what he’s been through. As I reflected on my thoughts, staring into the dusty concrete floor, I spoke like I was about to ask a question, “Hey Joseph…”. I glanced up to find the shed empty. Motionless. There was an empty space where a surfboard should’ve been. Facing the sea, I squint to see a figure in the distance running with a board under his arm. Into the horizon, back to where he should be.