Unlikely hero, p.7
Unlikely Hero, page 7
This was a total mess and made no sense. I grabbed the pitcher of water and iced tea from the fridge and set it on the table. Then I sat down and got busy grabbing a piece of roasted chicken. I took a thigh, a small baked potato and some asparagus. I lifted the pitcher, poured myself an iced tea and took a sip immediately after shoving the chicken into my mouth.
I lifted the fork, which was crammed with potato and asparagus and was about to shove it into my mouth when I was stopped by their silence. I immediately looked up to find the two of them staring at me, patiently, with a questioning look on their faces. I knew they were waiting for me to fill them in on my day.
I shrugged my shoulders and said, ”It was fine, just like I thought it would be. I’m good…. Lets eat, ok?” I quickly dismissed them and turned my attention back to the food strategically averting it from myself. Taking my not so subtle hint, they both turned away and began eating. I did however notice, they gave each other a worried glance.
“Any sour cream?” I asked.
“Damn, I was so lost in that store today. I didn’t know where anything was, but I’ll go back and get the things I couldn’t find. Hopefully, tomorrow Amber, sorry.” Tim explained worriedly.
“No big deal…” I replied. Success!
No one knew where the salt and pepper were either, but it didn’t matter. The chicken was good and I just ended up putting butter on my potato. The conversation was both strained and generic in every sense of the word. Mom and Tim trying to act like nothing was different or unusual, pretending everything was as it should be. I know it is going to take a lot of time to get used to this new place, but I hoped that they would eventually stop watching me like they expected me to whip out the razor and cut my wrists.
After dinner, I cleaned the dishes, glasses, pots and roasting pan, left them in the dish drainer to dry and turned to leave the kitchen on my way back upstairs to my room. I stopped shortly at the archway of the family room where they were both getting comfy on the sectional. Tim looked up at me first with remote in hand… “I’ve got to do my homework, guys, night.” I paused, “and it really was ok. I’m fine…really. Nothing terrible happened. I didn’t get lost, well not too many times anyway, and my locker opened fine.” I looked up and shook my head, “Guys, seriously, I’m fine. Stop worrying.”
I saw a look come over my mother’s face, as though she were about to give me a quiz and I smiled and quickly bounded up the steps. Another great escape. I was getting good at the avoidance of any conversation.
After reaching the sanctuary of my room, I climbed back in bed and I picked up my book and got right back into where I left off. I must have been really tired, because I remember it still being light outside when I closed my eyes. The handsome visage of Newland Archer, the protagonist in the Age of Innocence, filled my head.
It was that night when I slept, that I had dreamt about the stranger.
At first I couldn’t see him. He was just a shadow, but then he started walking towards me, very slowly. I remember being surprised I wasn’t afraid. All of a sudden, I felt this weird calm descend upon me, almost like I knew him from somewhere long ago. My feet felt like they were nailed to the floor and I couldn’t lift them to run, not that I wanted to, but I remember I was drawn to his face. Even though I couldn’t make out his features clearly, I could see the color of his eyes…they were green. Such a beautiful green; just like perfect sparkling emeralds. Clear, so full of energy, so engaging I found it was impossibly difficult to look away. The rest of him was hard to see. It seemed like the brightness of his eyes blinded me from seeing any of his other features.
The alarm went off startling me so much I knocked the Poland spring water bottle I brought up after dinner, off the nightstand. Thankfully, I always put the cap back on after every sip. I’m weird like that. I unscrew it to drink and re-screw it to set it down. But the sight of it flying off my nightstand startled me as much as the loud bleeping of the alarm. I didn’t know what to do first. Turn off the alarm or save the bottle. I shut the alarm off and got up quickly. Grabbing the bottle that had rolled under my bed, I set it on top of the nightstand. I reached for my Wellbutrin, I took one out and quickly swigged it down with one sip of the tepid water. I made my bed and grabbed the clothes I’d left out for school off the back of my desk chair on the way to the bathroom to take my shower.
I turned on the shower and while the water warmed up I started my usual morning routine. After I finished, I washed and dried my hands using the pretty new towel set mom bought that matched the yellow and white daisies on the wall paper, that was draped over the hook on the back of the door. I flossed and finished brushing my teeth, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand. I undressed and stepped into the shower. I tilted my face up to meet the heavy rain of warm water washing over me as I strategically kept my body directly under the showerhead in an attempt to avoid the chill in the air.
All of a sudden, I felt an anger building up inside me. It was strange, odd, and somewhat incomplete. After I thought about it, I was actually mad my dream had ended. After I got out of the shower, I threw my hair up into a towel, twisted it and then I dried myself off quickly and put on my clothes. I chose a pair of faded jeans, black tank top and thong sandals. Placing the towel back on the hook, I scrunched my hair as I dried it then shoved it up in a ponytail.
On my way out the door, I scooped my pocketbook and jacket—I wasn’t going to forget it again—and went downstairs. When I walked into the kitchen, Tim was on the phone. From the sound of it, he was talking to a friend from Florida- Jack I think he said. He went on to say ‘Great, who do I ask for’ then proceeded to write something down, it seems from Tim’s end of the conversation that Jack knew people here in New Jersey who could hook him up with a construction job. Tim told Jack he was surprised to find out almost everyone he worked with in Florida either knew someone or lived at one time or another in New Jersey.
Now, to give Tim his due, he can fix just about anything; his talents around the house were endless.
He looked at me and winked when he saw me. I half-smiled back. Holding his hand over the mouthpiece of the receiver he whispered “There’s some scrambled eggs and toast on the counter I just made. Coffee is in the pot. Help yourself.”
I smiled again, genuinely this time, and went about eating those very eggs. Grabbing a cup from the cabinet, I poured a coffee into one of the various mugs we had with vacation destinations we had visited another lifetime ago. I had randomly pulled out the Disney World Epcot Center mug and immediately stopped the thoughts threatening to invade my brain, pushing it back down into the recesses of my memories.
I added enough cream and sugar that my coffee barely resembled real coffee. Tasting more like a drink you can give a toddler, if you wanted him to become a sugar junkie that is. I grabbed the notebook I left on the table by the door and yelled “Later” to Tim as I walked out the door.
It was odd, I felt rested. I suddenly realized last night was the first night in over a year and a half that I didn’t dream of the accident. Instead, I was haunted by a pair of green eyes, framed by long thick dark lashes; mesmerizing eyes. I thought about that dream all the way to school. Admonishing myself on how that was not at all what I imagined Archer Newland to look like.
It was somewhat overcast this morning. It looked like rain, felt damp but somehow it was too wet in the air to rain. I finally reached school, backpack slung on my back and my English notebook still in my hands. As I went up the two steps to my Trig class I opened my backpack and shoved the pad in. After hanging my jacket on the hook I took my seat in the back. I tossed my backpack on the desk took out my Trig notebook which had my homework in it, and dug into the front zippered compartment trying to find a pen. I finally found one and opened my notebook to the last page of yesterday’s class, looked up and mechanically started to write the problems on the board into my book. At the end of class, I jotted down the homework assignment.
I went through the day as I usually did, talking to no one and no one talking to me. When I finally got to art class, I grabbed a smock and my kohl crayons, the drab colors. I also picked up another crayon without thinking, then went and stood in front of my easel staring blankly at the white paper.
Mr. Thomas walked in and called out loud “Hey guys. I’ve got a challenge for you all today. I think you are going to like it. This is always fun!” His excitement was almost contagious.
Everyone quieted down and gave him their full attention.
“I want you to paint, or draw, the first thing that jumps in your head right,”…he paused a few seconds while looking around the room inwardly smiling at his brilliant idea…“NOW!”
“Keep that visual. Try to transfer it from your head to the paper.”
“Try to see the colors, the shapes, the words. Anything you thought at that precise moment no matter what it was.” He exclaimed smiling. “I am looking forward to seeing what you all come up with.” He chuckled.
There were a few “What’s?” and “You’re kidding’s.”
Football guy shouted out “Damn, may be rated X Mr. T, you sure?” He was laughing. The members of his posse all laughed along. Blonde girl teasingly slapped him across his upper arm with an embarrassed look on her face, but you could see she inwardly loved the attention.
Everyone rushed to get the extra supplies they would need to draw or paint their thought. I looked down at the easel and realized I had already started drawing, eyes. Green eyes. This was the first thing I scribbled that wasn’t black, gray, brown or red, in years. I typically drew bland landscapes and emotionless faces when I doodled. I watched as my own hand continued to draw the nose, the lips, the perfectly shaped eyebrows, and the hair.
What the heck was happening here?
I was starting to think I was going crazy. It was as if a force took over my arm and was doing the drawing instead of me. I was actually drawing my dream. He wasn’t even real.
Dear Lord, I am losing it.
Mr. Thomas walked soundlessly around the room, gauging the progress of the students. One guy, football guy’s best friend, I think his name is Al, drew one word, ‘ass’. He just drew the word ‘ass’. He drew it in script; he drew it in bold, italicized, and block lettering. Different colors. It was actually cool. Different.
It was getting a lot of laughs, which of course just encouraged him further. Funny, I didn’t think block-headed football players could be creative. This was one of Mr. Thomas’ favorite assignments he told us. He gets each class to do this every year. He thought this exercise brought out the personality of each student.
My hand moved as though someone was guiding it. I looked around the room then I looked down and was shocked to see an image of a boy with dark hair, straight nose, full lips and picture-perfect eyes coming to life. I’m not an artist by any stretch of the imagination, but I was somewhat impressed with the work I did. It was rather good. The face was proportionate. The features perfect, almost as perfect as my dream. Mr. Thomas came up to the side of me and looked for several seconds at my drawing.
“Amber, this is very good.”
Wow, he actually sounded surprised. I guess it really must be good.
“Thanks.” I replied feeling the heat rise in my face.
He walked towards Joe, the football player and I looked again at my drawing. I was happy with this drawing. I was happy. Now that was Weird.
“And so you all know, I’m going to feature today’s work in the display cases out in the hall.” He paused. A low grumbling was heard throughout the classroom as everyone was commenting on the turn of events, some happy, some not so happy. He continued, “I have to say that overall I am very surprised and pleased at the work you guys did here today.” That quieted them down.
My hands got all sweaty and I was immediately terrified at the thought of my drawing being showcased anywhere. It wasn’t that it wasn’t good enough, but I felt like I was letting everyone know what is in my head. I didn’t want anyone in my head. I didn’t want my emotions exposed. I didn’t want anyone to know anything about me. I wanted to stay in my own world, alone. Pushing the dark parts down into the very center of my soul, where I could hide them away.
As I stood staring at my drawing, the thought that last night was the first time in years I slept through the night, I didn’t have the nightmare that woke me up screaming into my pillow, crying until exhausted and drained. I wasn’t angry.
“Sign your names to the bottom of your work and leave it to dry on the easels. I’ll take them down after they’ve dried.” Mr. Thomas said. “Thanks guys, good work. See you all Monday.”
I signed my drawing A. Hendricks, and then I took off the smock and walked over to put my supplies back in their places. Everyone was rushing out the door to catch their buses and get their cars. I was in no rush. Being a walker I could take my time. After they all left, I walked around peaking at the other student’s artwork.
There were some really good artists taking this class. The girl with the long blonde hair painted a watercolor of flowers in a field, it was sort of pretty. Football guy drew a picture of the blonde girl, somewhat simple but obviously her. The Goth girl drew what looked to be a snake wrapped around a black heart with a stake in it, it looked like some kind of tattoo. No surprise here. The ‘wannabe’ Goth guy drew a large black smudge. I’m guessing it was not finished. I was hoping it wasn’t finished…
I went back to my station, picked up my backpack. I shoved my earplugs into my ears, and opened my music app. I selected the Rolling Stone’s ‘Has anybody seen my baby?” and was gathering my notes and pen, shoving them into my backpack when the song abruptly ended and Ray Lamontagne’s somber soothing voice flowed from my cell phone to my earbuds, I could hold you in my arms… oh…I must have butt selected that song. But when I pulled my cell out of I my back pocket, the Rolling Stones Album cover was displayed and ‘Has Anybody Seen My Baby’ was still listed as the song playing.
I thought it a bit odd and silently cursed technology, sounding very much like my mom and Tim, when I heard someone enter the room. Thinking it was Mr. Thomas, I pulled the earbuds out and turned my head. I lifted my bag and slug it over my shoulder and looked up. What I saw nearly knocked me over.
Oh my God.
I froze.
I just froze.
Standing just inside the doorway of the classroom was the boy with the green eyes, looking directly at me, not moving a muscle, like a statue. I could feel the heat rise from my neck to my face. I tried to straighten up, but my legs weakened and I needed to grab the chair next to me to hold me up before I fell over, and totally embarrassed myself. I stood with my mouth hanging open.
Not able to move, at all.
All I can think is… Really? Is this really happening? Is he really here?
I bit my lip so hard I tasted the metallic taste of blood. I looked down at the floor for what seemed to be a very long time wishing the ground would open up and swallow me so I could disappear.
I glanced at my drawing and then slowly lifted my head. I found myself staring into the eyes that haunted my very thoughts last night while I slept. There was no doubt about it.
FYI, I don’t do shocked very well at all.
A smirk started forming on his perfect lips. It was almost as though he was satisfied, even happy. Needless to say, I was uncomfortable.
My legs were wobbly and refused to move. My mind was racing. Yet time seemed to stand still. He leaned in the doorway, like a model, perfect in every way and stared at me. I found myself staring back at him, lost in his eyes, totally captivated. It was as if we were having some sort of staring contest and whoever looked away first lost. I watched his long black lashes as they swept up and down as he slowly blinked. Unwittingly, my eyes traveled down the length of him from his head to his feet.
He wore a faded leather jacket, denim button down shirt and jeans. Thick boots, black leather I think. I moved my hand to my mouth to reassure myself it wasn’t still hanging open, and continued to stare at him, unable to look away. My heart was racing out of control. Gosh, he was beautiful. He was here. He was my dream.
I had one thought. I had to get out of here immediately, before I totally humiliated myself. I wanted to run but my brain ceased communicating with my legs. It was as if he could sense the turmoil within my body and mind, and he just smiled. He gave me a slight nod and turned to leave without saying a word. I heard his footsteps echoing down the hall as he slowly retreated. I waited for what seemed like forever after he was gone before even standing up straight.
It seemed like an eternity until I regained my breath and was able to move. I looked down to see my hands, white-knuckled, holding the back of the chair. I released them and felt the blood begin to flow to the tips of my fingers. I waited a few minutes longer, and then quickly grabbed my things and took off like a bat out of hell.
I ran down the hall and opened the door to the stairs leading to the first floor. I took those stairs so fast my feet barely even touched one step. When I reached the stairway door, I peeked through the wired glass window, and slowly opened it. I looked up and down the hallway making sure I was alone, then opened the exit door next to the gymnasium entrance and ran down the steps to the sidewalk on the side of the school near the field.
I wanted nothing more than to be home in my own room right now. Both my legs and lungs burned with the effort. I couldn’t walk fast enough.
I shoved my earbuds back into my ears, trying to get my mind off of what I think just happened, and was shocked to hear Ray Lamontagne’s Hold You In My Arms, playing from the beginning again.
What the hell?
By the time I got home I was out of breath. I opened the door and dumped my backpack and bag on the floor, ripped my earbuds out shoving them deep into my backpack, and jolted up the stairs to the bathroom. I ran the water until it was cold, then grabbed a washcloth and shoved it under the faucet, squeezing it out. I held the cool clothe on my face until I could feel the heat subside. My heart was just starting to slow down.
