by Jacob Rundle
“For once, can you just get ready?” She lowered her head in frustration. She wished her son could be more responsible.
“Mom, calm down. I am ready, and the bus isn’t even here yet.” He never understood his mother and her panic about the first day of school. She felt that it was a rite of passage for a child whereas he believed it was just another day. He wished for the day where he would be able to live the life that he wanted.
“Mom, would you stop?” Henri hated these morning tit-for-tat sessions with his mother, and they had become worse since their arrival in New York. Exhaling, he tried to relax. He stopped acting ungrateful towards her because he felt her pain. She was riding her own emotional seesaw of sorrow and anger because of recent events. His dad was also her best friend.
“Henri, I know that you are having a difficult time right now. I won’t pressure you, but you do know that I am here for you, right?” Henri glanced over at his mom, seeing she was giving him her full attention.
“Yeah, Mom. I know.” He gave her a hug. He wondered again if she was ready to know. He hated that his fear prevented him from reconnecting with his mom. The paralyzing fear started to show its ugly head again, and Henri decided to end the conversation so that he wouldn’t slip and tell her. He wasn’t ready to have this particular conversation.
“I want you to have a good day, and I know that you will love living here. It’s a fresh start for us.” She returned his hug, and then she continued preparing for her day of errands.
Henri had gone back to gathering his things for school when his mom interrupted his concentration. “Oh! We have been invited to St. Lucia’s Catholic Church on Sunday. I ran into Father Stevenson at the grocery store, and he really wants to meet you. I told him that we would go to his service, and we can have coffee with him after.” His mother sounded hopeful, and Henri knew the exact reason. She thought that he needed to be fixed, and every time he became enraged.
“Mom…you know how I feel about going to church.” Henri felt his anger building up inside. He couldn’t believe that his own mother, the woman who gave birth to him, didn’t listen to him. Henri always found a justification for keeping his secret because she already had a mission to fix him without even knowing the problem.
“You’ll be fine, Henri. It won’t hurt you to sit through a service. It wouldn’t kill you to have another male figure in your life.” Henri couldn’t believe the words that had just left her mouth.
“Mom, what is wrong with you?” Henri felt his hands shaking as his muscles tightened. He felt his emotions seeping through his posture as if they were perspiring. He hated how his mother never took his feelings into consideration - especially now that they should be a team. However, Henri didn’t feel a part of a team with her.
“Excuse you?” She noticed Henri’s reaction to her suggestion, and she was insulted by his gestures.
“You heard me. I’m not going. You know that I hate going to church.” Henri couldn’t believe that she had crossed the line again. He felt his saliva spraying over the kitchen island. He noticed that his thoughts raced, yet he couldn’t calm his nerves. He figured that he needed to leave the room before something unforgettable was said between them.
“Henri Jacobson-Claye, you will apologize to me, and you will stop acting like a child. If you aren’t going to speak with me then maybe Father Stevenson can help you?” She tried to hug Henri, but he wasn’t receptive.
“Maybe he can help me? What’s wrong with me?” Henri couldn’t believe what she had said. He knew that he had overreacted. However, for the first time in his life, he realized that he felt hatred towards his mom.
“Henri!” He heard his mother’s scream, but he decided to leave for school. He decided that he was done with their conversation.
“I am not going. End of discussion.” Henri slammed the door behind him, leaving his mother shocked at her son’s behavior. He tried to catch his breath. He and his mother had never had such an argument. Henri realized the moment he slammed the door that he had crossed a line, and he would pay for his outburst when he returned home.
CHAPTER 4
Henri loved the changing of the seasons in New York, and he admired the simple chemical reactions that were happening. The leaves started to fade into a beautiful mosaic painting of yellows and browns. He stopped and pondered the irony of being jealous of a leaf. He continued to replay the argument he had with his mother.
“Maybe he can fix me?” Henri felt his anger return at the thought of being “fixed”. He couldn’t understand why he beat himself up for reacting the way he had. He felt mature-like for standing up for himself; however, he knew that if his dad were there, he wouldn’t have been happy with his behavior either.
He refocused on the foliage and the beauty of the area. “How does something so simple have such an impact on me? It has no problem being what it is meant to be.” Henri examined every intricacy of the leaf, feeling the ridges of the blade, wondering what it would be like to feel completely free.
He intensely reexamined all of the changes that had occurred to him and his family within the past six months, including the saddest - the loss of his father. A piece of him died the day that his father left the Earth, and he was still affected by the constant internal struggle that he didn’t get the chance to say good-bye.
The school’s bell snapped Henri back into reality, and he urgently rushed to his first class. Hurrying down the first corridor, he dodged abandoned trashcans and opened locker doors. He hated scrambling to find his first class. He turned a corner without paying attention and ran into another person. Henri fell back onto his butt and spilled his entire book bag onto the floor.
“I am so sorry!” Henri apologized automatically, hoping that the person didn’t want to get physical with him. He frantically grabbed his bag and its contents, simultaneously glancing to see who was his roadblock. Henri couldn’t believe whom he saw. Henri locked eyes with a beautiful, tall, dark-toned boy. He was taller than Henri and possessed a unique, mystical, magnetic pull about him. Henri felt as though he knew him from someplace, but he couldn’t figure out how. Not to mention that the sheer size of this boy left Henri speechless.
“Are you okay?” The boy tried making conversation with Henri.
“Who? Me?” Henri’s words came out as gibberish. The boy smiled and laughed at the same time.
“Yes, you. You ran right into me, remember?” He continued to stare at Henri, waiting for a reply.
“Me? I’m okay.” Henri’s mouth wasn’t connecting with his brain. Henri blushed, and he became increasingly embarrassed. He realized that he had been staring at the boy.
“What’s your name?” he asked Henri.
“My name is Henri. And yours?” Henri felt butterflies in his stomach. He couldn’t stop looking into this boy’s eyes. He felt as though the strange boy’s eyes were tiny portals that led to a mystical place.
“Je m’appelle Siméon. It’s Siméon. Nice to meet you, Henri.” Siméon shook Henri’s hand and smiled at him.
“I’m sorry, but I am incredibly late to my first class, and it is my first day.” Henri continued to sweat profusely, and he tried to change his focus so that he could get to his class. However, Henri found it difficult to leave.
“What is your first class?” Siméon continued to engage Henri in conversation.
“It’s French with Mr. Dickinson,” Henri answered.
“Oh, that is the last door on the left. It’s okay. He is always late. I’d hurry though.” Siméon pointed to the exact door that Henri needed to reach.
“Thank you so much, Siméon.” Henri rushed off, avoiding any more awkward conversations. He rushed into the classroom, realizing that the teacher still hadn’t arrived. Henri felt some of the pressure leave his shoulders. He settled down in an empty chair in the back, and he wished that he could avoid the awkward first-day introductions.
He gathered his notes and textbook from his disheveled book bag before the instructor arrived. He tried
to avoid his new instructor, Monsieur Dickinson, but his stereotypical high school French instructor appearance made it difficult for Henri not to gawk at him. Monsieur Dickinson looked exactly as Henri imagined. He resembled a man in his late thirties who was balding with light gray hairs all throughout the remaining hair.
Monsieur Dickinson started his lesson, and Henri was relieved that he didn’t get stuck with an introduction. A few minutes later, Monsieur Dickinson realized that his new student hadn’t received a proper class introduction. He stopped his lesson and started to point in Henri’s direction. “Ma clase… écoutez! Aujourd’hui nous avons un nouvel étudiant. Il s’appelle Henri. Bienvenue, Henri!” Henri was overwhelmed with embarrassment. Every ounce of color rushed to his cheeks, presenting vibrant, rosy complexion.
“Bonjour!” Henri’s embarrassment became evident, and he had forgotten his basic French. Monsieur Dickinson continued with his introduction, and Henri ignored the entire conversation with only periodic glances and smiles at various students.
Henri didn’t hesitate to return to his seat with feelings of relief as he tried to hide his bright, rosy cheeks from the class. Henri mindlessly glanced around his class when he laid his eyes upon Siméon. Henri blushed from the embarrassment of gawking at Siméon.
“No way!” Henri couldn’t believe that Siméon was in his class.
Henri found it difficult to take his eyes off Siméon, igniting every fiber of his being. He knew that he didn’t want to be labeled as a stalker on his first day, but he couldn’t stop. He was drawn to Siméon, and the feeling was indescribable. The interesting thing about the feeling was that it seemed so normal, almost familiar. Henri knew that he hadn’t met Siméon before today, but he felt an instant connection with the boy. Henri wanted to figure out what was making him feel such a strong, magnetic force.
Monsieur Dickinson resumed his lesson on French verbs, and Henri gradually felt the settlement of his nerves from his recent display of elementary school emotions. He couldn’t believe that he embarrassed himself like that. Henri didn’t have the interest to pay attention to the lesson, so he decided to shift his attention to the corridor behind the school. The corridor resembled a forest with many different types of trees and plants. Henri was at peace when he was in the outdoors. He also remembered the times that he and his father would take hikes on the weekends. He felt closer to his dad when he reminisced about their adventures.
* * *
Henri noticed a magnetic pulling sensation in his stomach was returning. He felt every nerve in his body ignite and a sudden shift in his attention. He felt that he was in two places at once. He could still hear Monsieur’s lesson, but also, he could feel the warmth of the sun. Henri could hear what appeared to be singing in a different tongue. The moment that Henri realized what was happening to him, his essence was in an unfamiliar place. He had never seen such a place. He didn’t have time to absorb his new surroundings when he started to hear a conversation.
“Siméon! Vin isit la! M’bezwen w,” demanded a woman.
“Wi, manman. M’ap vin,” a young boy replied. Henri didn’t recognize the words, but he somehow knew the meaning of them. He then noticed that the boy who was speaking was Siméon, the boy from class.
“What the hell?” Henri whispered softly. Part of him wanted to continue his daydreaming, but the other part didn’t want Siméon to catch him. He wanted to understand this magnetic pull that he felt in the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t felt such emotion in what felt like forever.
Minutes had passed when Henri started to hear drumming. The beats became louder and faster. It became difficult for Henri to concentrate, so he glanced around him to see where the drums were. He didn’t see anything. The drums rhythm became hypnotic, forcing Henri into a trance.
Images rapidly flashed into his mind’s eye. With each image’s passing, Henri fell deeper into a heavy sleep, and when he woke, he again felt that he was in two places at the same time. His entire body felt full of pure, warm energy. He glanced at his hands, and it appeared as though he saw lines of energy circulating throughout his body. He was enamored by the tracks the energy created. He refocused on the incoming voices.
“Siméon, we have our fèt tonight, and I need you to help set the altars up.” She instructed him where he needed to set up the party affairs. Henri looked around to see that he wasn’t in New York anymore. He couldn’t believe what he saw. Not to mention that he saw Siméon.
“Wi, manman, mwen.” Siméon understood his mother’s desire. His mother walked away to set up the rest of the ceremonial areas. Henri couldn’t stop watching Siméon’s mother. She had many liquor bottles that seemed strategically placed. Once she situated the bottles to her satisfaction, she pinned stunning, sequined flags on the surrounding poles. He had never seen such amazing pieces of art. Once she displayed the flags in unique patterns, she moved on to her next chore while she sang in a mesmerizing tone. Her voice possessed a siren’s allurement.
Uncontrollable thoughts rushed through Henri’s mind, causing unforeseen disorientating sensations. Henri couldn’t believe the power of her song and its effect on him. Her song and the environment left Henri speechless, further amplifying his curiosity.
“So, you are here, Henri? I am glad that you finally made it to me.” Siméon tried to get Henri’s attention, but he was still trapped in the pull of the woman’s song.
“Henri!” Siméon forced his scream to dispel the effects of his mother’s song.
“Siméon? You can see me?” Henri felt extremely bewildered. His entire body felt numb and cold and he panicked.
“Wi, ma Chéri. Of course, I can.” Siméon answered.
“I…” Henri’s mouth fell open with a dazed look on his face.
“Henri, you’re okay. I promise you. In my culture, we call this a spiritual walk or a projection. I know that you must have many questions, and I pray that I have the answers.” Siméon grabbed Henri’s hand in order to show him that he wasn’t going crazy. He tried to examine Henri’s expression, but he had a difficult time with Henri’s current state of being.
“What is this, Siméon? More importantly, how is this possible?” Henri fought his instinct to run; he decided to stay so that he could get the truth.
“Ma Chéri, you should probably sit down for this.” Siméon sat him down. “Bon… this is a vision of my past. You were able to project yourself to this exact spot and time. Honestly, I have never met anyone who manifested the gift of sight as you do. You not only have visions of the past, present and future, but you are also able to experience the vision.”
“Experience the vision?” Henri asked.
“Wi, it can be confusing, and these things are not normal. We don’t look down upon individuals who are born with a gift, especially the gift of sight.” Siméon pointed to his forehead, indicating his third eye. Henri understood the gesture because he had read a few books on New Age topics.
“This is the past? I was just sitting in French class, looking at you?” Henri realized that he had slipped up, telling Siméon that he had acted like a stalker.
“Wi, it is my past.” Siméon answered.
“This is a much for me.” Henri’s mind was dizzy.
Siméon continued the conversation. “You were looking at me?” Henri couldn’t hide the reddening of his face.
The question conjured up so many mixed emotions and feelings within Henri. He knew that he had blushed in front of Siméon. Henri couldn’t hide his humiliation any longer. However, he noticed that he felt a sense of familiarity around Siméon.
“So, where is my body? Do I have a body anymore?” Henri became sarcastic with his current situation.
“Henri, your body is fine. Think of it this way. It appears as though you are daydreaming.” Siméon tried to explain projection to Henri, but he wasn’t being very attentive.
“Honestly, Siméon, I am having a hard time believing this. You’re telling me that I am able to travel to different times to see things?”
“Henri, what are you thinking about?” Siméon tried getting Henri’s attention back on track, but Henri was still overloaded by the surround stimuli and the feelings that projection brought to the fore.
“Siméon, I don’t understand any of this. More importantly, why do I feel such a strong connection with you?” Henri responded fluidly which caught Siméon off-guard with his abruptness.
“Allow me to show you, Henri.” Siméon approached Henri with his hands out. He ensured Henri that he was not there to harm him, but instead to show him how things had been in the past.
“Henri, open yourself and see. I want you to see the past.” Siméon verbally led Henri on another projection.
“How do I do that? A projection within another projection? Is that allowed?” Henri’s adrenaline coursed in increasing intervals, which he knew was a sign of another vision.
Siméon explained useful techniques to Henri so that he could ease his transition into further projections. “Now, center yourself. Find a quiet place. Feel a sense of peace.” Henri followed his instruction and slowed his breathing, pushing aside all unnecessary thoughts. Henri fought through his stubbornness, and he finally centered himself, which allowed him to experience sensations of peace and calmness.
“Oh my. Is this what absolute peace feels like?” Henri found it difficult to maintain his calmness.
“Wi, Chéri. Now, you must know what you truly want to see,” Siméon replied, leading Henri to his truth.
“I want to see the past,” Henri whispered out loud. A light suddenly appeared inside his mind’s eye, and he could feel a soft pressure build in his forehead.
“Henri, be careful. You don’t want to force a memory.” Siméon warned. He didn’t want him to overexert himself.
“Okay.” Henri lessened his desire to bring forth a vision.