Stempleton

My eyes wander upward in awe of the sky.  Not because of the gorgeous pastel reflection of the ocean. Or the fierce lighting of the sun but the clouds that bothered to say hello.  Driving in exhilaration as the clouds seemed to lower themselves wanting to be welcomed on the highway. I rolled my windows down to let the coolness of their greeting in the car. I clasped my throat, taken so far aback that I had forgotten to breath. Suddenly, the road disappeared and nothing could be felt below the tires. The car stood afloat.  The clouds did not come down. But drew me upward.  I realized I stopped breathing. I didn’t need air. And the car was totally gone. I laid back loftily on the cotton ball of air.  I tried standing to see the view. Silly me, clouds aren’t stable.  I fall back. My mouth motioned the 'umph' sound and feeling the thud against my back but my lungs made no grasp of oxygen. Weird. " I just want to stand." Knowing well enough the cloud wouldn’t respond. So, I  stand again. "umph" again. "Can't I see the ground from here?" I called out.  I looked down at my ankle in reflex to kick off the slithering. The cloud had tied my ankles down. My arms whip outstretched on their own. Wait! My wrists tied down as well.  The same feeling around my throat. "Wait! I thought..." But the words were gone.  My lips motioned a scream but the sound was dull. I started to cry. But nothing streamed down my cheeks. What have I done? Then the I was spinning. The cloud rotated and rotated. I thought of what being sick might feel like. Because I surely should have been by now. But it kept spinning and spinning.  Until, I was upside down. I could see everything and nothing at the same time.  I imagined what the world used to look like. And then I was spinning again.

Promise not to look down

and think of me weird

for keeping the last strand of your

hair.   It stays placed perfectly

in a book.  Saving my favorite

words, but in truth I just flip through

so I can smell you. 

You can giggle at the sound of my insanity,

but really I am just nostalgic. Reminiscent.

A heart ache that hides and confides in

tiny spaced lines.

Grievances have long passed but reminders

linger in the present.  One of which is purposely

positioned in fear of forgetting you. 

But I am consoled.

Of the piece you left me

and the peace you received. 

My worries, you guide with wise intent.

My scars have become your own.

Too filthy, are my thoughts but still you welcome me home? Anxieties are the devils doubts but the sickness still festers.

Each day a cry of when.

Insecurities block the truth but you are the bleach to wipe away this deep rooted stain.  No need to plead, noble blood was spilt and grace flows to the unquenched soul. Faith is how it all began.

Don’t cower from the light that chases you.

Everyone I love goes away in the end. I did not just fail you but myself too. With flaws of gold and diamond plastic, I have begun a life I thought was worthy. My prearranged expanse measured by the success of synchronized serendipity.  Encompassed with a rare hope.  BUT…a common sporadic doubt. It quakes with the feeling of emptiness. A reconstruction of bad taste. I am left with a disability, a disease of uncomfortable thoughts leaving me lonely. I had a blueprint of gold. An exceptional diamond life. And now everything that was, isn’t anymore

It radiates off the walls,

seeps into my skin and resonates

with me.  It conjures,

favorable moments of time.

It stops time.  It stops my time,

pauses me to reflect on,

how much happiness you bring me.

It’s hearty and heavy, and at

times, obnoxious but that

doesn’t mean I love it less.

It’s beautiful when you cry

and also crazy.  It’s an infectious

disease that I never want to leave.

I love it when you’re filled up so much,

that it becomes a hush. A bubbly

whisper.  Please, don’t ever stop it.

You won’t keep me from wanting it.

Oh God, how I feel when you laugh.

Something has peeked your curiosity. All because of simple eye contact.  Has no one ever showed the proper etiquette of speaking eye to eye when engaged?  Oh, he was passing by when locked upon your eyes. I wonder if you’re settled at all with the one at home. Six years is a long time to disregard for an eye lock. Is it because of the attention? Does the other one not pay close enough attention? Conjuring scenarios to discover this kid’s identity. And you want me to accomplice, I think not! Everyday making a point to ask about him. Suggesting he’s fired or quit.  Inquiring about him. I guess I can see the mysterious appeal.  The, does he know that I know, kind of thing.  Or is that just it, you must solidify the evidence you’ve made up in your mind.  Just because his eyes meet yours doesn’t mean he identifies with you.  I have seen the girl you call beard. How keen are your senses, how exact is your detector?  Stop springing up plucked flowers and keep watering your own. 

While Celeste tried to stop Jackson from bleeding out, Maxine was doing the same for George. Thankfully, George was still breathing and was only caught in the shoulder. Travis was shaking profusely trying to reload the gun. Roger lunged at him with a fork in hand. Travis let out a scream feeling the jabbing in his back. They both hit the ground with their fists impacting whatever they could touch.  Roger wrapped his arm around Travis’s neck trying to suffocate him.

“Hands where we can see them!” the police officer had come.

…

Jackson’s eyes creeped open, “Ah” he tried sitting up but it hurt too much.

“Jackson” his mom reached for his hand “Honey, I was so worried. You lost so much blood.” She started to cry.

“Jackson.” Jackson’s father had come out of the shadow.

Jackson frowned, “Why are you here?” he tried sitting up again “Why am I here?”

“Right, well, you’re my son.” Jackson’s father said.

“As for why you’re here. That Tennessean maniac tried to kill you and poor George.” His mother sobbed out.

“No.” Jackson closed his eyes. It wasn’t real, it wasn’t real, he thought over and over.

“Are you in pain, son?”  His father asked.

No, he thought. Jackson was trying to understand what exactly had happened. It was all so fast. All day he had envisioned the unbelievable and it happens again but it turns out to be real. Logically, it made no sense. If the drugs weren’t laced then what the hell was going on in his brain. Then almost dying must have been inevitable, clearly Travis had his mind set on killing me today.

“Jackson, we need to talk about a few things.” Jackson knew this tone, the ‘let’s get down to business’.

“Not now, Hank. Jesus, he was just shot a few days ago-“

“Wait, what?!” Jackson sucked in deep breath “How long have I been I here?”

“The doctor had to induce coma to let your body heal.” She brushed his hair away from his eyes.

“Shit.” Jackson sighed.  “George, is he alright.”

“They released him Tuesday.” His mother said.

“Heather, we have to talk about this now before the doctors come.” Hank stepped in closer and laid an envelope on Jackson’s chest.

“What is it.” he looked it over and it the Harvard insignia. “I have to do this now?”

“No, you do-

“Yes, because the doctors found drugs in your system while checking your blood type. If they submit the information and the school finds out…”

“I don’t care anymore besides they’re not going to withhold that information anyway.”

“They will if they’re paid.” Hank chuckled out.

“God, Dad. Seriously, this is why she left you.” Jackson spit and then chuckled to himself as he tore the envelope open.

“Jackson, you don’t have to do this now.” Heather said again. 

Fuck it, he thought.  Slowly he unfolded the paper.  He skimmed the paper and dropped it “I…I was.” He couldn’t get the words out.

“It’s alright, dear. There are other colleges.” Heather comforted.

“No Mom, I got in. They want me.” He couldn’t believe it. “I got in.”

Everything had been silent upon walking into the cafeteria.  The raucous of wild students filled his ears.  Part of him felt relief, the silence kind of bothered him.   He cut in line, grabbed two pizzas, a pear, an apple and three cartons of chocolate milk.  He sat at his table, while his friends shared their homework and made plans for the weekend. Jackson was only half listening to Maxine complaining about Roger. Half because he really needed to speak to Roger.  

“Where is he?” Jackson started shoveling food down.

Maxine shrugged and George piped in after scribbling something across the paper “He had to finish up something in chemistry.” Jackson rolled his eyes, it annoyed him how reckless Roger could be.  It especially annoyed him that he had to listen to his girlfriend go on about the cheating.  Jackson didn’t have the patience to feel bad for Maxine and didn’t care enough to stop Roger.  So he remained impartial.

“George, what is the possibility of-

“I am working on it Celeste.” George scribbled some more, scratched his head and scribbled some more “Did you get the same?” he passed the sheet over to Celeste.  She studied it and shook her head.  “Uh, for heaven St. Marie!”

“Chill out, you guys.” Jackson called at them “Here.” He reached into his back pack and retrieved the physics work they needed.

“Jackson, you’re a freaking genius.” Celeste copied the sheet frantically.

“Hey, only I am allowed to copy off his work.” Roger had finally showed up.  Jackson looked him over once and sighed.

“Enough, for a second.” Jackson said, he leaned into Roger “What kind of f’d up shit did we smoke yesterday?” Roger frowned and ignored his question.

“So I was just listening to Principal Hall rambling on about a drunken idiot spray painted the girls bathroom” He laughed as if everyone was supposed to know what he was speaking of.  Jackson, of course knew because he was Rogers’s apprentice. 

“A drunken idiot?” George narrowed his eyes. 

“I bet we can guess who the.” Maxine’s hands went up into quotations.  Jackson did a double take.  Maxine’s hands turned to bunny ears. As she quoted her words the ear bent “drunken idiots were.”  Jackson looked down, rubbing his eyes. Maybe he was going insane.

“Roger, answer my freaking question.” All day Jackson was able to keep his cool about this, why was it eating at him now? Everyone at the table looked taken back.

Roger leaned into him “Dude, I didn’t lace the Afternoon Delight.” He looked around nervous “the fact that you think I would, offends me.” Roger had a sarcastic tone but he was being serious. Jackson could tell Roger was telling the truth.  The problem now is what could be causing the hallucinations.  Nothing in his schedule had changed that morning.  I brushed my teeth and then got dressed or did I dress before I brushed my teeth. Did I put the left shoe on first or the right?  Jackson tried shaking off the doubt. This whole thing is ridiculous. 

“Side bar.” Jackson tapped Roger on the shoulder.

“No, No, No.” Celeste waved her finger at them “I know what side bar is and Roger needs me to edit his first draft of summary of A Tale of Two Cities.”

“It’ll only take a minute.” Jackson frowned “This is very important, beside Roger doesn’t need to see you edit his paper.” He said annoyed, Roger nodded in agreement.

Celeste sighed heavily “He does so he knows how to edit mine.” She half barked.

“Good God, Celeste.” Jackson rubbed his temples.

“We only have ten minutes left of lunch.” She complained.

Jackson and Roger turned and ignored her.  Jackson pulled Roger by his arm. “Listen, I apologize for accusing you but you don’t know what kind of day I am having.” Jackson teetered with the idea of telling Roger what was going on. And so he did, starting with the bird and then Ursula’s toe and the freezing, all the way to Maxine’s hands shaped like pink bunny ears.   Roger blinked unsure of his friend’s sanity.  Jackson laughed and Roger joined him. “I know I sound crazy right now but I am seeing stuff that is unexplainable. Should I…”

“Tell someone!” he scoffed “like a shrink, hell no.”

“Okay…”

Roger looked Jackson over, he wasn’t the type to have mental break down. Although, he would be surprised if Jackson didn’t freak after the divorce and losing his chance to go to Stanford.  “Just let your mind work itself out.  Maybe, the imagination part of your brain is running haywire.”

Jackson laughed, “Right.” He would except for now and continued eating.

Jackson stretched his arms as his mother flung open the drapes.  The scorching beams of light shot right into his eyes. This annoyed him. “Mom” he grumbled.

“Get up!” she snapped.

“I have a freaking alarm, mom. I don’t need you coming in here and messing stuff up.” Every morning Jackson’s mother would barge into his room exactly at 6:45, waking him up.

“I would, but you never get up when you’re supposed to.” And she slammed the door.  Jackson threw a silent tantrum in his bed and flung back the covers.  My life is bullshit, he thought over and over as he dressed himself and brushed his teeth.  Just like he did most mornings while performing his usual morning duties.  He examined his eyes, the redness seemed to never go away as he dropped visine over his pupils. He steadied his hands. It took a lot of concentration not to blink. Chirp!  Doink, he blinked.

“Damn.” He sighed between his teeth.  Jackson steadied his hand again. Chirp! Doink! Doink! Doink! He blinked several times wasting the visine. “What the hell…” there sat a bird perched on a branch just outside his bedroom window.  His eyes dulled. “Go away!” Little shit, he thought.  He stared at the bird and then back to the mirror.  And he stared back at the bird.  He focused and thought, if I had a lasers for eyes.   Without thinking a stream of red light cast from Jackson’s eyes and pierced through the window, hitting the bird.  The bird instantly exploded and its excrements were thrown all over the place.  Jackson let out a yell and the light ceased.  “Holy…” he gathered what happened and went to the window. Glass was everywhere and so was the stupid bird. “Fuuhh…” he stared at the mess.  Mom’s going to kill me.  His eye darted to the clock. He had twenty minutes to make it to school.  Jackson rolled up a newspaper to flick the bird’s parts out the window.  He was able to pick up the chunks of glass and dispose of them.  There was smeared carcass on the seal of the windows and tiny pieces of glass on the carpet.  Without time to really worry about this, he dashed out the door, down the stairs. He was engulfed by the bacon aroma. 

Jackson watched as his mother pulled out some cinnamon rolls. Gosh, damn it, he thought. It was his favorite breakfast.  Ignoring the soft growls of temptation, he turned around calling “Mom, a stupid bird hit the window and there’s blood and guts and glass all over my room.” He complained while opening the front door to leave “I am not picking that crap up. It isn’t my house!” and shut the door before she could get a word in.  He grabbed his bike out of the garage and rode down the street.  “What the hell just happened!” he yelled loudly.  Disbelief of the event that had just taken place was setting in.  Lasers, just shot out of my face, he half laughed.  For a moment he felt guilty for practically committing some sort of animal cruelty.  Peta would chew him alive for this. But who would find out. Certainly not people I know who actually care about crap like that. He shoved the guilt down and never brought it back up.