by Jay Sherfey
“Even at my worst,” said Jason, “I could be around her. She helped me a lot.”
“Russell is a boy comfortable in his own skin. Unusual in one so young. He’s genuinely a happy soul.” As if on cue, Russ laughed out loud. Mrs. Lim clapped her hands and grinned at something Russ had said.
“Was he correct?” asked Chiang who referred to Russ’s report on what had happened in the shed on Sunday. He focused on Jason who thought for a moment before answering.
“I have no reason to doubt him.” Jason watched Russ bend down to inhale something Mrs. Lim cupped in her hands. “Besides, Suzy said the same thing.” He turned back to Chiang.
“You had no idea you were not touching the ground?” Chiang sounded skeptical.
“None.” Jason took a deep breath and let it go.
“Maybe it has something to do with focus.” Chiang looked out at the garden, “Of course, how can we be sure? It is, however, something to try.”
“Focus?” It was Jason’s turn to be skeptical. “Is there something wrong with floating while one meditates?” Chiang laughed out long and loud. Mrs. Lim, Suzy, and Russ surprised by the outburst stopped what they were doing and gazed at the two of them.
“Unusual? Yes.” They sat quietly while the others resumed their garden tour. “What is your conscious destination?”
“I don’t have one.” Jason smiled. He watched Suzy clap and bounce on her toes in delight. “I just…drop off.”
“It is time to choose a place for you to go.” Chiang turned to him and patted his knee. “I have a few things for you to try.”
Chapter 14
Suzy begged Jason to talk to Rachel about joining them. She and Russ waited for him on the back porch. Suzy paced anxious to hear any news. Jason found Rachel in the bedroom she shared with Suzy. Shoes flew through the air and thumped onto the closet floor. Music accompanied Rachel in her determined efforts to get things put away. It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to… Rachel sang along as she moved around the room.
“Rachel?” He knocked on the open door. “Can we talk?” A couple of wire hangers followed the trajectory of her footwear.
“Yeah, sure.” She smiled but did not invite him in. Wearing jeans and an oversized, white, Penn State T-shirt, she piled clothes on her bed which had previously lay strewn about the floor. Rachel tossed items from the bed into two open drawers of a tall mahogany dresser.
“I wanted to say something about what happened on Sunday.” Jason leaned against the door frame.
“Just a trick was all.” She pushed and pounded the overflow of clothes into each drawer until they fit and forced the drawers closed with a decisive thud. “Right?” She looked up.
“Well no… not exactly.” Jason waited. Rachel got down on her hands and knees; she felt around under the bed. Her effort produced stray, unmatched, not-so white socks. They piled up at the foot of the bed.
“Well what… exactly?” she asked and stood to face Jason with her hands on her hips.
“I can do things,” he began with a deep breath, “with my thoughts or something like that.” She stared at him. “I was floating in the tool shed on Sunday. Really.”
Rachel looked at him as though he had just told her about the bodies of other children he’d murdered and buried beneath the shed.
“I wish I didn’t know,” she said. “I mean, I like you Jason, but this is just…” A shudder went through her. She stopped. “I guess I’m not ready to go meditate or anything like that. I’m sorry I can’t join you guys.”
“So am I, Rachel. So am I.” Jason watched as Rachel continued to straighten up her side of the room. The floating episode was forgotten. He returned to his waiting friends.
“Rachel no longer remembers what happened on Sunday.” Jason told Russ and Suzy. “I’m sorry, Suzy. She just didn’t want to deal with it. Maybe we can try to include her later. Maybe you can sort of bring up the subject slowly over the next few weeks. Give her a chance to get used to it.” They stepped off the porch and headed for the shed.
“It would have been nice to have another girl to talk to,” Suzy whispered. She walked with her shoulders slouched and her head down. Russ had to lean closer to hear. The ensuing quiet cemented her isolation.
“Wait a minute,” said Russ. He jumped ahead and turned around to face her. “I know how you feel.” She stopped short. Jason hung back. He felt bad for Suzy; he was sure that Russ was not helping the situation. “I’m like you in reverse. I only have sisters who won’t give me the time of day anymore.”
“It’s not the same.” A storm rumbled in her voice. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. How could you know anything? You’re just a dumb boy with a lot of friends.”
“A lot of friends who don’t know me at all! They don’t know what I think is important.” This vehement revelation surprised both Suzy and Jason. “When it comes to things I really care about there’s been my Dad or no one until Jason showed up. And even then, half of Jason’s life is missing and he can’t relate. No offense, man.” Russ turned to Jason, “but it’s true.” Jason nodded; he accepted the fact. “I know that all alone feeling all too well.”
Suzy looked at him differently. She calmed. “Ok. But you’re still a boy and I’m a girl. There are things…ya know? I can’t just…”
“What makes Rachel so special?” Russ asked kindly.
“I can’t explain it.” Suzy moved toward the shed. Both boys fell into step on either side. “She knows. She understands and she knows I understand too.”
“Yeah,” Russ sighed. The simple response contained a world of comprehension.
They entered their club house each silent with their own thoughts. Taking seats on the stools, they did not look at each other.
“Hey!” yelled Russ. “This seat is comfortable. What’d you do?”
“Old wrapping paper,” said Jason, happy the silence was broken. “I found it in the basement, set it aside, and forgot about it until your butt complained so loudly.”
Russ stood up and saw Santa Claus and Rudolf looking up at him on a green background from the thick, paper cushion. “Well, there ya go. Christmas all year. I like it.” Suzy laughed. Jason smiled and appreciated Russ’s genius for taking a difficult situation and nudging it into something else.
“I’m sorry for calling you dumb, before.” Suzy did not look so upset. “I guess I just miss not having Rachel for everything that’s going on.”
“With sisters like mine, I’ve been called a lot worse.” Russ raised his arm as if to give Suzy a hug but stopped, thinking better of it. “Wait a minute,” Russ got a look on his face Jason knew all too well, “I got an idea.”
* * *
Later that night Mrs. Lim walked into her living room to turn off the lights and shut the windows before retiring. Surprised, she found Chiang studying a grammar school, composition notebook. She coughed softly into her hand to announce her presence. Chiang who sat in a high backed, comfortable chair looked up and smiled.
“Professor, you will turn off the lights when you finish?”
“Certainly, my dear Mrs. Lim.” He returned to his reading and added, “I will check the doors and windows also.”
“Thank you, Professor.” She turned to head upstairs. “You will find some hot water for tea on the stove, if you so desire.”
“You are too kind, as always.” Chiang turned a page.
She smiled and climbed the stairs. Chiang fell into the story, unfolding in the book. Jason left the composition book behind to help his friend understand what had happened. He also meant it as a gesture of trust. The point was not overlooked by Chiang who felt immensely flattered.
The hand writing at the start shocked him. The writing, in print style, reminded Chiang of a five or six year old. Large, misshapen letters, little punctuation, misspellings in the first ten pages slowly gave way to clear notes in small, cursive, prose. Jason’s notes on his meditating brought on a smile. Jason’s flattery of his mentor, he passed over.
It was the latter pages, however, over which he frowned and worried.
They are setting me up for something, but what? Chiang read. On the next page the letters in tight, quick formation, the pen heavy on the page, the answer blasted forth. They set me up to control another kid and this will not happen again!
Chiang read how Jason dealt with Lydia and the other adults. Chiang imagined the memories like over-wet clay melted, deformed, and reformed into what Jason needed them to be. Lydia was left in a mental minefield while the others escaped with new memories of the night Sam came to the Dubois house. Each misstep by this woman into the active pursuit of evil, as Jason described her actions, would bring on the detonation of a debilitating migraine. Chiang was disturbed that Jason’s thinking became so black and white concerning his foster mother. He needed to meet Lydia to make an accurate judgment of her. Whatever pain she might suffer as a result of Jason’s actions could be considered self-inflicted given the way the boy set things up. Or was it? Did she have a choice?
Chiang closed the notebook. He held the place with his thumb and stared out through the living room window. A streetlamp burned brightly and shadows danced with the wind blown branches. He sensed trouble coming but did not know what to do about it. What would he do if he had such power? Could he get Jason to control himself? Would power corrupt the boy as it had so many others down through history? It would be a long sleepless night.
He reopened the notebook and read the last entries. Chiang grinned and immediately felt better about what Jason might do. The water drop session, one of Chiang’s greater focus experiments, failed stupendously. Jason had tried very hard but never managed a higher state with his eyes riveted to a droplet of water. Finally he gave up when his legs fell asleep beneath him. Chiang wondered what his last entries might mean.
I don’t know where I’m going and have no idea how to get there. Sorry Chiang your idea is a bust. OK Russ, now I see what you mean. I’ll get some sandpaper.
Chapter 15
Suzy and Russ sat on the shed threshold, grumpy and bored. They watched Jason move back and forth across the yard, mowing the weeds. Russ picked up a small stone and tossed in front of the lawnmower. The rumbling machine’s vortex picked it up, and the blade batted the rock with a distinct ping across the yard toward the house. Jason stopped and glared at Russ who studied the oak tree; he knew nothing about any stone.
“Will you just stop,” Jason hissed. The gasoline fumes made his head swim and the mowing left him dirty and sweaty in the noontime heat. His tee shirt stuck to him front and back.
“You promised, man,” insisted Russ. He and Suzy were frustrated, sitting for so long. “I gotta go home soon.”
Russ’s great idea required Jason to create a special connection between Suzy and him. It was like a person-to-person call with the phone company. A little brain change was no big deal from Russ’s point of view if it helped. Jason disagreed but said he would think about it. He never promised.
“I hav’ta get this done. OK?” Jason pushed the mower forward and ignored his annoying friends. In truth he tried to figure out a way not to do what Suzy and Russ requested the day before.
Russ stood up and stretched; then slipped inside the shed. He pulled a book from the shelf underneath the tool bench. Jason told him that he sometimes used the shed to read. So he kept a stash there. Russ returned to his seat beside Suzy and waited. The book flew in an arc; it landed in front of the lawnmower. Jason stopped abruptly and cut the engine. He took a deep breath, controlling his fury with Russ or Suzy.
“OK! OK!” Jason gave up his attempt to dissuade them. “Both of you,” he demanded, “into the shed. Sit on the cot and lean against the wall. Get comfortable.”
Suzy and Russ scampered to the cot, excited; they would finally get what they wanted. Jason removed his tee shirt and used the driest spot he could find to wipe his forehead and hands. He put it back on, picked up the book Russ threw, and entered the shed.
“I’m not going to get a moments peace until this is done. So…” Jason leaned against the bench and returned the book to its place. “Let’s just do it.” Russ and Suzy were all smiles and kept quiet; they did not want to ruin their opportunity.
“You will sleep for awhile. When you wake up, I will have finished.” Jason looked one to the other, they nodded in unison. “So, close your eyes, abracadabra, hocus pocus, whatever.” As he did with the bed-wetting boy, Jason nudged them into a sound sleep. Suzy did not put up any resistance; he feared she might.
In moments Jason finished. He left the shed. The mower sprung to life and he finished the backyard. With the mower parked next to the shed, Jason entered and stomped his feet. Suzy and Russ awoke.
“What time is it?” asked Russ. He yawned and stretched.
“Probably about one or one thirty.” Jason got out of the way, as Russ jumped to his feet.
“Oh, jeez,” he said, pushing by his friend. “I’m late. I’ll see ya tomorrow or something.” Jason watched him run through the gate and pass out of his sight.
“How do you feel?” Jason crossed his arms and looked at Suzy. She took her time getting up.
“Will it work?” She slowly got to her feet.
“I really don’t know, but time will tell,” said Jason.
“Thanks for doing this. I know you didn’t want to.” Suzy smiled at him and patted his shoulder. “Ewww. You’re all wet.” She wiped her fingers on her jeans.
“Hard work will do that.” Jason smiled. He watched her cross the yard and disappear into the house. The books piled below the bench called to him. Of the ten in the shed there was only one he had not finished. He removed his soaked tee shirt and tossed it on the tool bench. With the paperback in hand, he plopped onto the cot. In seconds he was lost in the pages.
Chapter 16
The ping pong paddle felt clumsy in his hand, but Jason readied himself. He and Mr. Downing played their third game in Mr. Downing’s basement. Miss Thompson finally managed to get the two of them together. The first two matches were shutouts. Jason never expected that a man of Mr. Downing’s girth, his stomach prevented him from seeing his feet, could move so fast. Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony blasted from a record player. Jason was determined to return this serve and not go scoreless a third time. The ball came in low and fast. It swerved with the spin Mr. Downing put on it. Jason hit the white blur with counter spin and kept the ball in play as it cleared the net and bounced on the table at the center line. It returned hit hard but to the side of the table where Jason was not standing. He dove to save the point, missed, lost his balance, and continued into a shelf of paint cans. There was a crash after which Jason returned to the field of play partially covered in white paint.
“My point, I believe, Mr. Sutter,” said Downing, smiling calmly. Jason wiped away paint about to drop from his eye brow into his eye. He smiled and waved his paddle for the next serve. “You know, Mr. Sutter, a great deal can be learned about a man in a one-on-one, competitive game such as this.” Jason nodded. Downing served.
After ten games with Jason sweaty, painted, and winless, Mr. Downing called a halt.
“I believe we have need of some lunch.” Downing put away the paddles and ball. At the bottom of the stairs he bowed and invited Jason with a flourish of his hand to precede him. “Let’s see if we can’t get some of that paint off of you.” He chuckled.
Thirty minutes later smelling of turpentine and lava soap, Jason sat at the kitchen table. Downing searched the fridge and tossed cold cuts in brown paper wrapping on the table.
“There is some good rye bread in the bin behind you on the counter.” He straightened up and placed two cans of Black Label beer on the table and a pitcher of iced tea. “The plates are in the shelf above the bread box.” Jason faced the counter, found the rye bread, and gathered the plates. He placed them on the table; then sat. Mustard, mayo, pickles, and other condiments hit the table with knives and forks. A green glass filled with ice tea appeared before him and a Black Label beer tab
popped. “I think we’re ready.”
Jason followed Mr. Downing’s example and piled the meat high on his rye bread and lathered the whole with yellow mustard. Once cut in half, he took a big bite. The explosion of flavor was wonderful. He chewed with his eyes closed. Mr. Downing smiled at Jason’s apparent pleasure.
“I expected you two weeks ago, Mr. Sutter,” said Downing. “It is the summer after all and you do not have all that much on your plate. Do you?” He drank his beer.
“Not at the moment, sir,” said Jason. “The last weeks, however… things got messy, if you know what I mean?”
“I am sure, I have no idea.” They ate in quiet for a time. Good food and company were enough. Downing finished his first beer with the last of his sandwich. He belched satisfied and said, “Rebecca tells me you are interested in biology and some World War II history.”
“Rebecca, sir?” With his mouth full the name sounded more like, “R’boka”.
“My godchild,” said Downing. He wiped an errant drip of mustard from his chin. “Miss Thompson to you.”
“Oh. I didn’t know, sir.” Jason gulped tea from his green glass. Putting it down, he gathered his over sized sandwich and took another bite.
“Well, of course, you didn’t know. Why would you? None of your business.” Mr. Downing sat back in his chair, crushed his first beer can, and opened his second. “Now, what is it you want to know?”
Jason gulped his last mouthful, washed it down with the last of his iced tea, and reluctantly set the rest aside. “I read a few books on fliers in World War II. Miss Thompson thought I might learn more about it from you.”
“Why on earth would a boy your age pick up books on war?” He leaned forward, picked up the pitcher, and refilled Jason’s glass.
“My friend’s father flew B-17s in the war. I didn’t know anything about it. I didn’t want to sound like an idiot.” Jason lifted his glass and drank.