The Outwith

“To die will be an awfully big adventure.”

― J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

She stood directly below the vent outside her son’s bedroom. The cooling sweat on her brow sent a numbing chill through her body. The only sounds in the house came from the air conditioning unit and the refrigerator’s motor kicking on and off. Michele jerked her hand away from the doorknob and quickly made her way back to her own bedroom. How could so many things have gone so wrong all at once? The clinic was on the brink of chaos from the time it opened. The grocery store had somehow lost her dinner order in its multimillion-dollar system. And now the refrigerator turned on when it wanted to. Breakfast for dinner was out of the question because everything on the top shelf was frozen. And she wasn’t going to even think about the email from Hussein’s school until it was unavoidable. “Exactly, how long was that?” Michele wondered. She needed time to think about nothing at all.

She toweled off after a long, hot, and, as far as she was concerned, well-deserved bath. Her reflection in the mirror flickered and she saw who she had once been. She remembered the power she had given up to become a wife, to become a mother—to be human. This toll was the price of her choice, and she wouldn’t let that decision become a regret. She would be strong and try to put her own disappointments to the side for the night. She'd say what needed to be said. She’d face what she had put off for long enough. She opened the email and read it again.

A tiny pool collected where she’d drawn to a halt, nearly losing her nerve once again. A trickle lightly intoned and echoed above the mechanical whine of the icebox, emphasizing ever quickening steps. Let’s get this over with. You can do this. Wringing out shoulder-length golden locks of hair, her free hand cinched the embroidered his and hers pastel pink robe snug around her waist. She waved away the wet mess she had made. Salty tears and sweat combined with the stale water that splattered across the hardwood floors. Heavily textured walls gave her the sensation of walking down death row. She felt guilty and this was her punishment. The craggy character of the walls juxtaposed with the bright, lively colors were an enduring reminder of who Amir had been, ever vibrant and forever brilliant. Tonight, the twisting oranges and blues, the swirling yellows and purples evaded her notice for the tan, almost gray carpet. Michele’s late husband would tease her about some of her drabber choices. She’d quickly remind him that she had chosen him and not the other way around.

Amir would definitely know what to do. He always knew what to do. She was at a loss for how to talk to her son. Something was different in him, now. He was hers, but now he was cold and distant. Hugs came less frequently. He had always been her sweet little man, but deep-down Michele knew that that kind, bubbly baby boy was still in there somewhere. Maybe he'd just had a bad day - or month. They both had. It was only his second week of third grade and Hussein had been sent to the headmaster four times. It was time to talk.

"Knock. Knock. Sein Sein," Michele whispered as she entered his room. Her smile took on the weight of the last month and she could no longer hold it. The weight that dropped on her at the sight of her son’s room nearly buckled her until its pressure. Hussein's high wagon-shaped bed sat in the middle of a land of wonder, or it would have been for any other kid. He was maturing, or at least losing his eye for the magic of life, faster than she'd like. Amir had decorated Sein’s room while she had an all-day mommy son adventure. Sein had been so surprised. But now, atop dusty perches, spaceships awaited launch sequences. Action figures in full superhero landing poses decked the long shelves encircling the room. They went untouched. Michele noticed something had changed in his chamber of fantasy. Sein’s favorite poster his dad brought home from deployment partially swung, half-alive, blowing in the floor vent's gentle breeze. A young boy with a red feather in his cap extended a hand—a call to adventure. The tear in the poster robbed the boy of his Wendy. His childlike smile and optimism were undiminished. Sein had lost that. Above the unrelenting and perpetual boy, only the word Peter in Japanese Kanji fluttered and flapped against the wall.

"I don't wanna talk right now," Hussein said as he pulled the covers over his head.

"Are you afraid to see, scared to be,

Open, honest, and brave,

There's nothing to fear,

Love, while I'm here,

Won't you lend me your ear."

She sang to the tune her husband would often hum when she wasn’t ready to talk, much to her annoyance. Oh, to be annoyed one more time. Everything reminded her of Amir. Every color in the house was an extension of his beautiful mind. The songs and the one-word passwords for entrance to locked rooms were all from him. The miniature version of Amir, the part of her husband she most needed right now, was shutting her out. Maybe she should give up and try again tomorrow.

"I'm listening," responded the boy in the expected melodious reply. He rolled over and wiped away a tear, never meeting his mother's eyes.

"What's going on at school, sweetheart?" Michele asked as she reached for an action figure to hand Hussein. He didn’t take it. So, she tucked it in where a small pocket opened between his sheet and blanket. He always felt stronger with Captain Blaze around. Maybe he was getting too old for that, as well. "You know, whatever's going on you can talk to me about it? Your teacher said you punched a boy in the face.” Sein’s face went sullen. She didn’t want to break his spirit this early in the conversation. “I'm sure he probably deserved it,” she said trying to lighten the mood. Come back to me Sein. “Nothing is too much for mommy and Captain Blaze to handle." She was a boxer sparring with the air as she threw a left hook with the meanest look she could muster. Her heart fluttered seeing a brief smile come to Sein's lips. "What is it, baby?" she asked.

"I just miss him so much," Sein said as he reached out and clutched his toy close to his chest. More tears began to roll. "Those boys said their dads were better than mine. They said strong dads came home,” Sein whispered on the verge of breaking. She couldn’t tell if it was sadness or anger in his voice. “The big one said dad was weak, mom. So, I punched him. Dad wasn't weak. Was he, mommy?" Hussein fought the tears back and hardened his face. "I hate them," he whispered, rolling back over as he dropped Captain Blaze to the floor.

Michele looked around for something to save her—words, an idea, a cold bottomless drink; nothing was coming. Amir always knew the right things to say in times like these. He stumbled a lot, but he always figured it out. And it was always better. She only knew the words, "I love you," but she didn't think those would help right now. So, she said whatever would come out, "No, baby. Daddy wasn't weak. He was strong, strong like you." Hussein flinched but didn't make the effort to turn over. She didn't know what else to say. Bending forward to stand and push-in her chair, a book caught her eye. She knew that story well.

An idea!

"Have I ever read you the story about the boy who went to conquer far off lands beyond the sky, eclipsing dreams?" she asked with just a hint of mischief in her voice.

Hussein only shook his head. He didn't spin to spur her on, but his silence sounded like an invitation. "Well, you just listen. You don't have to say anything," she said. As Michele commenced to recite the story, Hussein nodded off into dreamland. She had been called something else before she was human, a wife—a mother. This story reminded her every time she thought about it. She began to read "For the millionth time outside of time..."

"I'm the captain now! You'll be taking your orders from me, you sniveling dogs," snarled the tall beast. He wasn't exactly an animal, but anyone who saw him would swear they saw fangs. His deep green eyes burned bright like emeralds set in Arabian sands. "Call me Captain Sein. Do as I say, and everyone will have enough food and drink to fill their bellies and enough trouble to have him hanged."

"Aye, Aye!" shouted the crowd of abominable rapscallions as they raised cutlass and saber to the sky. Everyone, except for the man wrapped in linens. From head to toe the man was enveloped in cloth bandages. Why, the man looked like a mummy. A strange feeling came over Sein, but he pushed it down. Was it fear? Was it intrigue? He was only in the third grade, but... No, he had sailed the seven seas and punched his way into the heavens. There he boarded ships that docked on the frozen side of stars like navy vessels dropped anchor at the embarcadero. He'd thrown men overboard for not meeting his gaze and sank ships merely for their captains having looked him in the eye. He was the roughest man to catch the wind in the air or on the seas, and he'd prove it to this recalcitrant.

"Do you not speak, former captain? Are you not pleased to now be in my retinue?" Sein mocked with a flourish of his coattails and a tip of his tricorne. The silver embroidery on the three-sided hat glinted brilliantly in the noon day sun.

"I speak, Sein. Though, I cannot say I am very impressed with your manners," the mummy man returned in an equally mocking tone. "Or have not your parents taught you how to be a gracious host?" Sein did not need to unwrap the man's face to know that he was smiling, deriding his successor—being a naughty boy. Naughty boy? No, he was an insurrectionist!

"Lock him up, boys," sneered the peeved Captain. "And see to it that his long-tailed, hungry roommates have full access to their fearless leader. So long, rat commander." He laughed, and this gained a raucous chorus of chortling from men who knew that if they didn't join in the gaiety, then they, too, would bunk with the flea ridden rodents.

Days went by to the clanking tune of the unbridled squander of doubloons. Storeships, townships, relationships, saintship— whatever Captain Sein desired, he acquired. If it could not be purchased, he took it. If it was nailed down, he burned it. From galaxy to galaxy and port to port they all knew Captain Sein, the Unbreakable—Captain Sein, the Insatiable, the Quenchless - Captain Sein, the Black Heart. He would have long conversations with the man locked in the brig. They weren't so much conversations as they were extended tirades about this or that—his mother who never understood his pain, his father who had left his mother for nostalgia and adventure, and the occasional complaint about the boys who had strung him up as a young lad. His first mate, Ryoran, had sat in on one of these one-sided conversations. The mummy had only sat and stared back at Sein, but Ryoran's heart was moved as he could relate to his Captain's tragic upbringing. His own mother had given him up for a night's stay in a gimcrack inn. Ryoran felt he had found his brother, someone to commiserate with.

"You're not to blame, Captain," Ryoran offered in an attempt at heartfelt affirmation and affinitude. Reaching past his emptied glass of rum to pat his Captain, neigh his friend, on the shoulder, he heard the round shot blast from a pistol. Splinters burst in every direction like wooden fireworks.

"Demoted, Ryoran. Next time it's your head," Captain Sein said as he took the last swig of his drink. "Pity. The dogs need it, and we can't eat it, eh mummy?" he said as he staggered away from the bars where the bandaged man sat captive. "Perhaps I'll tell you the story of how you die, tomorrow." He laughed as he made his way back to his cabin chambers. That was how he ended every night's monologue. And every night, Sein would hear the man in the bandages humming some incessant tune.

By the morning, he'd forget all about his foolish maundering drivel. He'd appoint another useless sack to carry out his wishes. Then, he'd set sail for a new world to spread fear and awe, all in the name of Dark Heart. He was having the time of his life. The universe was his oyster. Time was running short. Little did he know that the ship he was about to board would be his last. Would it be greed or overconfidence that would get the better of him?

"Ryoran! Drop anchor, lad!" Captain Sein shouted as he lowered his monocular.

"I'm not Ryoran, Captain," replied the wimpish chinless replacement. "My name's..."

BOOM!

His body slumped over the front of the ship with barely a splash as the captain called out yet again, "Ryoran, Drop anchor, lad! We've a date with destiny."

"Aye, Aye Captain," responded a woman he'd never seen before. Although, he wished he had. The gold that bordered and snaked along edges of the hood and hems of her mantle made him question how much freedom and coin he allowed his crew. She looked like a girl from his class. No, he was no schoolboy. He was the Captain Black Heart. She was no girl. She had the physique of the maidens from one of the many seaside shanties along their perilous annexation of prosperous localities. Yes, he thought, this is the life for me.

"Good lass, Ryoran. Good lass," he replied. "There is a ship I've had my eye on since we last set sail on the winds of Jupiter. She's called the Flower of Mayen and I'm told there is a monster in the belly of that ship that can give you whatever you ask." He licked his lips and said, almost to no one at all, "And I do be asking for a lot."

His green eyes caught first sun's light in the same way a crystal glass takes in the luminescence of the flame upon the hearth. He beamed with purpose; glorious, self-interested, egotistical purpose. The Flower of Mayen floated undisturbed by the gravity of the blue green ball. It simply wafted, the clouds offering a stark backdrop for the ship’s doom.

The battle descended to the planet’s surface. Sein had lost half of his men in the boarding. A few of the Flower's crewman willingly sacrificed themselves, submerging under the water, timed ordnance suffused within their bellies. The Flower's crewman looked like the floating dead, and they were, but they carried a volatile secret with them. The bilge burst open. The men who didn't go to their knees in surrender, jumped overboard, only to be sucked into the blown open cavern that was filling quickly.

"I can stop this." Sein heard the voice inside his head. It was a woman's voice. No, it was a man. Maybe a man and a woman? He saw a beautiful blonde woman standing over him and the ship was gone. "I can stop this." He heard the voice again. He was back on the ship and the man in the brig, who had only spoken on the first day, was standing at the bars. "I can stop this," he said. Again, even with the wrappings, Sein knew what the man's face was doing. He was staring deep within Sein, penetrating his soul, searching for the light in the heart that the captain had tried to drown in whatever darkness he could find or create.

"I'll stop this myself," Captain Sein snarled as he focused his attention on the last ladder connecting his ship to the Flower. He took one step and felt the sharp blade his throat. His own saber had been taken from its sheathe and used against him. Well, it had first belonged to the man who was offering him help from inside the cage. But, it was a captain’s blade, and now the saber was inches away from permanently finding a new owner. The smaller blade sticking in his spine was yet another reason not to move.

"Tell me." The voice came like a cool zephyr on a hot summer day, or a sweet sonnet to calm a tumultuous storm. "What would you have asked from the Outwith?" The embodied voice quickly spun him around, the blade no longer at his back, but piercing his navel with slow intentional pressure.

"You," he managed to rasp between taking in short gulps of air. "Ryoran?" The gold that traced her cloak may as well have been limestone and ash next to sea of hues that danced within her eyes. The blade at his neck made him careful not to quaver or falter.

His reaction brought a smile to her face. Sein had not undertook to learn her real name, but he would feel the full force of his transgression in due time. "I am the Flower of Mayen. I am the Outwith," she said as her eyes settled upon the deepest blue and began to churn like the ocean's waves. In an instant, they were the deepest black Sein had ever experienced, like the mind-bending expanse of space, but more immeasurable—ever-expansive. The inky black deep around him roiled and tossed as he began to fall deeper into the cavernous pit, suffocating and yet varicose. He thought he'd never climb out. Or was he ascending and would never come down? Why had he not taken assistance from the last person who was still offering to help him. He had sent everyone else to their deaths, but one man, his captive, had offered to save him. If only he'd listened. He could almost see the bottom of the subterrane. One point of light flickered in and out of existence. He’d focus on it, and then it would be gone. Focus. Gone. In his head the question echoed, “What would you have asked from the Outwith?” That point of light became a great beast in the last second. The gaping maw took him as he fought to suck in breath and mutter what he presumed would be his last words.

"I'd ask my father's forgiveness," he said as he blinked from existence.

Her eyes were the plainest brown—the plainest he’d seen in all of his travels. Her blonde hair casually curled out from under the golden embroidered hood. The void in her eyes had dissipated. "I am the Flower of Mayen. I am the Outwith," she said calmly as if nothing had happened. Was she repeating herself, or had nothing really happened? "I took passage on your ship after I overheard you planning to take the Flower and steal what was not yours to have. For many days I sat and talked to the man in bandages. He told me everything about you; the bad, the worst, and the indecent - but he believed there was something in you that no one could see." She smiled as she waved her hand unlocking the cell where the former Captain had been nearly starved. “I, myself, almost missed it.” Sein shuttered as the impression he felt in the deep dark coursed through his body once more. The words burst forth.

"Why have you not killed me? I deserve to die. I’ve been so horrible,” Sein bellowed as the man in the bandages cleared an impossible distance to wrench him into an embrace. Tears flowed from Seir for the first time in years. He wasn't the Black Heart. He wasn't the Unbreakable, the Insatiable, or any of that. He was a man, a boy who had grown and made mistakes.

"What good would another death do?" she said as she blinked away tears of her own. She raised her hands as she continued, "I am the Flower of Mayen, the Outwith. As the Flower, and as with many flowers, we have the power to kill like a virus or an infection, and we have the power to give life." She blinked. Heat. Cold. She opened her eyes that now shown the most brilliant white. In them were all possibilities. Good, evil, selflessness, love, selfishness, hatred, death, and life. He saw himself as an old man lying on his bed, about to embark upon eternal sleep. A chorus of people, friends, and family, alive and dead, sang to him as his soul boarded the ship to the land beyond. A woman with yellow hair and a familiar smile caressed his face. He saw himself as a pauper, a king, an indolent slothful wretch. It happened a thousand times, endlessly—creation, destruction and rebirth. For the millionth time outside of time, he was all things, and he was nothing. He thought the light would burn him up as much at the dark had threatened to crush him under the interminable weight of shadow.

Then it was over. His ship was repaired. The men were all around him and looking to him for orders. The Flower of Mayen and the man in bandages stood on the other ship that was pointed in the opposite direction.

"You never got to ask the beast for your heart's desire," the Flower said with a slight chuckle. Did she want Sein to ask for something after all he had done? After all she had given back?

"I have all I could ever want right here," Sein said as he surveyed the crew and the ship that had been restored and resurrected. "I think I'll be going back to try to make things right. Everywhere I've ever traveled. For every pain I caused, I promise to only give back life."

The unbearable weight in the black darkness and the airiness in the exacting light took him over in that moment. He wasn't the Black Heart. He wasn't Captain Sein. He wasn't a schoolboy. He was the Outwith.

"Take this power with you wherever you go. Use it to bring adrift and astray seafarers back to the light," said the Flower as she gathered her men from the sea. She turned and walked away, disappearing in a mist of golden runes.

"Your father forgives you," said the man in the linen wrappings. In the blink of an eye, he was standing in front of Sein, the new Outwith. "I've always forgiven you, and there isn’t a thing you could do to make me take it back. Just you mind your manners that your mother and I taught you." Sein could sense the smile behind the gauges.

"Can't I see your face?" Sein said through watery eyes. "It's been so long. Mom misses you. I miss you. We...," he trailed off.

"You don't need to see my face, son. You know my heart. My heart is yours. It always has been," the man said as his bandages flickered to an array of hues, then back to white. "Now, it's time to stop killing yourself living in the past. You go out there and live for the sake of life. You’re going to stumble a lot, because no matter how much light you have in you, the darkness will come again. You just keep listening for my voice. I’ll never steer you wrong." The humming that Sein had heard all those nights began to take on new life as the man, his father, sang his song.

"Are you afraid to see, scared to be,

Open, honest, and brave,

There's nothing to fear,

Love, while I'm here,

Won't you lend me your ear."

"Go home and give your mother a big hug and a kiss for the both of us," he said as the bandages transmuted from the pale faded colors. Oranges, blues, yellows, greens, purples and reds met in a prism. The heavens and the earth were different now. Sein had never seen the world like this, as a place to share anything but pain. He didn’t feel the blackness anymore, but he also didn’t simply feel the light—everything that opposed the dark within. But, he was different now.

Only Sein's ship sat in the middle of the open sea. "I'm listening, dad,” he said as he turned to find his crew regarding him. Empathy and understanding were new to him—but he knew he couldn’t go shooting at them whenever they were aimed at him.

"Ryoran at your service, Captain. Where to?" asked the newly reappointed second-in-command.

Sein smiled and replied, "First, we go home. Then, we live."

"The end," said the blonde woman as she closed the book. The golden runes on the spine of the book sparkled as the light from the hallway set them ablaze. "Did you like it sweetheart?"

Groggily, little Hussein rolled over to face his mother, green eyes weary and fatigued, and replied, "Yeah, momma. I liked it a lot. I think I understand." He smiled through a yawn. Then, rolled over and closed his eyes.

She leaned in and gave him a kiss on the top of his head. Sein leapt up with surprising speed and wrapped his arms around his mother's neck—squeezing tighter than he had in the past month. "I think dad would want me to give you this," he said as he kissed her on the cheek. He laid down and quickly fell asleep.

"Thank you honey," she said as tears dampened the cover of the book: The Outwith, by Amir Hussein Osman. "Good night, Captain Gray Heart."

Michele stood to turn out the lights and close the door behind her. "Captain Blaze can't sleep alone," she said noticing the action figure on the floor. She waved her hand and walked a little freer down the vivid hallway. She whispered her true name, the password Amir had used to lock the door a million times, “Mayen.”

For the millionth time outside of time.