by Gann, Myles
‘Glad I could finally give Stephen a taste of his own medicine.’ Caleb’s friends walked by and grabbed his arms to sweep him away in the current of other students going towards class. He said his good-byes to them as they kept going past his philosophy class. ‘Time for the highlight reel of the day to run its course.’ His entire argument was coming to mind as he took his seat and didn’t even bother to take out his notebook. Instead, he took it upon himself to notice Mrs. Drit’s new pair of high-heeled shoes for a moment—‘Makes her butt look even better,’—before looking away and focusing. ‘Got everything you need in your brain? Good because—she’s looking at me. Attention to the important things, please.’ After he sensed Mrs. Drit’s eyes moving off him, he moved his own back to study her. Her hair was curled in two large bunches and she had an extremely tight, striped shirt on with her bosoms straining between the top and middle button. Her yellow eyes met his just as they averted from that sight and he could see her mouth the question “Are you ok?”
Caleb smiled softly and nodded during the sounding of the late bell. Everybody sat. ‘All of the questions, answers, and possible rebuttals in mind, straight in the chair—Marion said my name. Go.’ He stood smoothly while never taking his eyes off the ground. Phrasing his opening question just right, he let it all go. “When you think of power, what comes to mind?”
‘Shocker, they’re silent. Let the group that cares have some time to think, and forget the other useless idiots.’ “Like strength?”
He nodded towards the student that answered. ‘Usually one of the quiet ones. Guess his bright yellow shirt signifies today won’t be a usual day for him.’ “Good. What else?”
The answers all came at once now, but he did his best to sort through them. “Force, determination, danger: all good answers, but what about protection, or safety, or even love?” Another silence befell the class, and even some of the apathetic ears from before began to turn to him in curiosity. ‘Here we go.’ “We hold some words to be set and their definitions to be the same throughout any situation, but what if they weren’t meant to be stuck to one specific definition? Why can’t all words have multiple definitions? When I say the word cool, what comes to mind?”
“Totally un-cool,” ‘said one of the unpleasantly high-voiced cheerleaders.’
“And why is that? Is it because the definition has changed or because we, as a civilization, have changed the usage of that word?”
Even with no sound filling the air, Caleb could sense the brain of everybody hard at work as he dangled this idea in front of them like an orchestra conductor trying to get the proper sound from his wind section. “Our perceptions of words change from generation to generation and even from social group to social group, but definitions are set in stone. Those can’t be changed.”
Caleb smiled on the inside at the affronted kid who’d offered up his answer. ‘Poor guy is trying to show off what little insight he has. Being second in the class doesn’t get you anything but the second seat. Even if you did give the answer I wanted, you should still leave the big thoughts for the big league thinkers.’ “Assuming definitions give words their power, can that power change from person to person? Can the manifestation of that kind of power change in the same way?”
The same boy tried to answer again but Mrs. Drit cut him off. “One response per person at first, Eric.” The seconds ticked off the clock with no response coming to break the monotonous drip of time. After a sea of ticks went by, Mrs. Drit sighed. “This is your one free pass before I start deducting points from everyone that hasn’t spoken up yet.” She crossed her legs under her knee-length skirt and leaned forward to project her voice. “I think power is a drastically different prospect from person to person. Power is generally another word for strength and everyone has different strengths, so what kind of power are you talking about?”
“Absolute.”
All eyes in the room turned to him again, but this time they were mostly annoyed projections as a reward for his vagueness. “It’s impossible to have absolute power over everything.”
Caleb smirked while not caring who had given him the answer. “By the standard definition of power, and a little deeper interpretation, we can see how it is possible. If a person has absolute power, then they have practiced that power to the point of being able to call on that power in any situation. Not necessarily perfect in every situation, but displacing your power to cover an absolution of all categories, making perfection possible in all categories. Perfection every single time you were asked ‘what’s two plus two?’ or some other, specific area. Is it not perfection in that area when you never fail at that specific task?” A few students tried to stammer out answers, but almost all of them looked around in a bit of shock. A full smile came to his face over the unveiling of his theory; it was hanging by a thread in front of all of their faces and craved their proof to cement this idea forever.
“Yeah, it is.”
“Sure.”
“Sounds like it.”
“Yeah, but isn’t absolute power all encompassing by nature? Like math or science?”
Caleb let out an accidental scoff as Eric rebutted. “First off, math and science are not absolute powers at all, and secondly, absolute power has different definitions just like every other word. Just because you get good grades in math and science doesn’t mean that’s all there is to the world.”
The class chuckled as Eric glared back. ‘Another of the smarter students in the class, please,’ “So, we can prove gravity as an absolute power by the fact that my pen drops when I throw it off the desk?”
He shrugged. “Looks as though you could prove it for that one case, but that’s only a part of gravity’s case for absolute power. When gravity is stronger than the upward force of an object, it will always, always, bring it as close to the Earth as possible. It isn’t perfect since we can still jump and fly in machines, but gravity takes every single opportunity it is given and never fails. That’s absolute power: the ability to never fail when you’re given the opportunity to succeed—”
The bell ringing scared him out of his speech and slowly moved the students from their seats. Caleb caught his breath. ‘They’re not leaving in any hurry now. Their minds have been intrigued.’ He barely moved out of temporary shock. ‘Something’s different again. Maybe the realization that I’m right; the feeling isn’t all I expected. It felt almost…normal, as if my power didn’t want any part of me justifying its existence. Once you put it into action, you’ll feel it.’
“Interesting debate. Even if you were leading them along by the hand the entire way, I’ve never heard so much guarded optimism amongst this group. Everything you’ve done today has been impressive.”
Shooting a smile up at his teacher, he coyly asked, “What else did I do today?”
“You got up and came to school after what happened.”
Caleb stood straight and smiled again as she walked around her desk and placed her chair back within its crevace. “Just something I had to do.” His memory struck up a question. “By the way, when does that club of yours start? I haven’t seen any posters around and it’s near the end of the school year.”
She drew herself back as she sat and adjusted her perfectly-fitted glasses. “Um, well, we hadn’t seen enough interest in the group and I didn’t think any of the current members were leadership material, but if you join, we can officially begin. The way it’ll work is that we do one-on-one meetings first just to get feedback on ideas without peer pressure influencing decisions. This club is meant to… stretch our understanding of communication and individuality. I can squeeze you in tonight if you’re interested.”
Caleb nodded. “I’ll give it a shot, if you’ll still have me. Where’s the meeting being held?”
Marion Drit angled her face down to look at him in a sarcastic way. ‘As if to say “Who wouldn’t want you?” That stare up the rim of her glasses sets her yellow eyes off in a fiery fashion. Brownish-gold mixes with her cat-like stare to create Sky-Da
ises, as Mom would say; those fireworks that barely lit up the sky, compared to the rest, but cascaded back towards earth in the shape of a glitter palm tree. Those had always been my favorite when I was younger because they were calm and quiet, but fierce and inviting.’ A slight smile from her lips only added to the spectacle before her voice emerged. “The meetings will be a bit unconventional like the club itself. I figure the one-on-one questionings will be held at my house to add a little homemade dinner and comfort to the whole idea. After those are done, we’ll probably meet a few times a week here at school; I haven’t gotten those details settled yet. Sound good?”
Finally moving to gather his pack, Caleb smiled. “Unconventional is the way to go with me. I’m in. Just give me the address and time and I’ll be there with a bow on my head.”
A chuckle filled the room emanating from Marion’s strong lungs. “Eight o’clock tonight.” She scribbled something down on a corner of a random paper and ripped it off for Caleb’s use. “Come to that address there, and don’t bother with the bow. Just bring your mind and your body.”
- - -
Humming to a stop, Caleb’s car turned off about a block away from his destination. ‘I don’t know why she whistled at my house. Unless she lives in the servant’s quarters for this community, her house will be as big as mine.’ He checked his phone for time before shutting it off and sliding it into the cup holder while exiting the car. ‘Spring will be here soon.’ He sighed at the realization and frowned at the snow that was melting rapidly at his feet. ‘It’s getting sticky at night. Winter is the dry time of the year, but spring is a humid mess. Lake rains are already gathered, planning their attack on sunny days ahead. Start diging your flood trenches, people.’ He detected his surroundings while glancing between door numbers and his varied footpath. ‘The snow’s non-existent on the grass.’ Remnants of ice and snow drifts peppered the sidewalks and roads, but the grass was completely free of powder. As he turned the corner to Mrs. Drit’s street, he leaned down and felt heat coming from the trimmed, tamed blades. ‘A heating system? Wow. I guess when there’s nothing else left to spend money on, buy something stupid.’
Caleb smiled and continued walking with an unraveled focus. ‘I hope this is the wrong neighborhood. I really, really hope she didn’t buy heated grass…. Speaking of, how does a teacher afford these digs? Must have a rich husband. Why am I here? What’s compelling me to join yet another club? Why the hell am I thinking so much about it? Whatever. If you don’t like it then back out. Simple as that.’ He glanced at a mailbox and saw the number she’d written down for him and turned to gawk at his destined arrival. ‘White, plain house…as boring as a statue. Probably took a while to chisel, but whoopty-doo in the end. Even the front door barely stands out from the rest of the frame thanks to a huge leprechaun sticker someone decided to honor St. Patrick’s Day with a week early.’ Trims and siding varied through shades of white and grey with the short chimney and few exposed shingles looking dormant and neglected from below. Taking a deep breath, he began to trek the walkway and let his nervousness slide away. ‘What could go wrong?’
His shoes ran across the brush on the top step before he rang the momentous-sounding gong that was the doorbell. In the second that followed, Caleb exhaled while releasing his power just slightly to remove any remnants of nervous emotions before the door opened and a smiling Mrs. Drit greeted him. “Welcome to my domain.”
Caleb smiled and quickly retracted his power. “Heated grass?”
She smiled and began talking fast. “Free service of the community. I never could turn down free things. C’mon in.” She stepped to the side and allowed Caleb to submerge into the overwhelming sensory experience that was her foyer. His ears were captivated by a distant music that didn’t seem familiar to him, his eyes were almost blinded by the rainbow splatters of color across a rotundus ceiling atop a circular fixture that aimed light towards the colorful explosion, his nose was guessing away at the perfume his teacher currently emitted, his mouth was tasting the food in the air and having a hard time of deciding whether to salivate or go dry, and his skin was now focused on the hand on his shoulder as his teacher pushed by. Caleb studied the rest of the room—‘Picture of man about her age on table,’—before hearing Marion’s voice. “Take your shoes off and grab a seat. Dinner shall be ready in a moment or two.”
Caleb didn’t move too fast. Exiting the foyer, he came to a narrow hallway that widened into a grand room up ahead. The floor was carpeted with a blue, flat material, but the faint echoes of wood could still be heard underneath. There were more frames full of the same man on the wall, one painting Marion and he in wedding attire. Just as he solved that mystery, the woman came into the hallway with her hands wringing themselves in front of her body. ‘High-heels under a splurge of purple and red sewn into a dress. Surprising, but not unpleasant at all.’ Despite its beauty—‘Especially considering who’s in the dress,’—the garment came dangerously close to being provocative. Her neckline dipped down to near cleavage level and the bottom was only slightly shorter than her skirt at lower-thigh level. She had noticed his quick, observing eyes and moved forward with a bright smile and a look as dangerous as her dress. “Looking at something?”
Caleb chuckled and scratched at his neck in a sudden spike of anxiety. “I was just noticing how lovely you looked tonight. You should wear that to school someday.”
Her smile grew after a short laugh. “Nope, this is only for special occasions.”
“What’s the occasion?”
Her head turned so the right side of her face was clear under the dim light. “Business after dinner. I believe that’s the proper way to do things.” She extended her hand towards him in an open fashion. “This way.”
Caleb—‘Wait…too late go with it,’—took her hand and was lead into the sizable dining room. On the way, he’d looked down. ‘No wedding ring. Small indent though.’ That clue locked itself away as they went through a cave-like opening in the wall and arrived at their destination. She left to bring the food into the big, red area while Caleb extended his power to listen throughout the house. Besides the racket in the kitchen, there was no one else in the home. “Divorced maybe? Killed the husband and used his blood to paint the walls of this room?” A narcissistic smirk over his brand of humor spurned while his power faded. ‘The red really is that shade and clashes with the blue carpet and yellow ceiling. Ah, your talents do have an end to them Marion. Never decorate another room, please.’
A struggling at the door caught his attention, moving him quickly to help the woman juggling food in her arms. He smiled widely after setting everything down—‘Two lit candles,’—and noticed exactly what they were eating: two foot-long sub-sandwiches with freshly cooked turkey and ham, a bowl of potato chips, some celery and dip. A few short chuckles escaped him before he asked, “Is this like a romantic, candle-light dinner meets a half-an-hour lunch break?”
Marion laughed a few lines of a joyous chorus before regaining herself. “Well, I guess you’re not the only one that likes the unusual and unconventional. What do you want to drink?”
“Just water for me.”
She nodded quickly and backed out of the room. “Have a seat anywhere and dig in.”
Caleb did just that. He began with a handful of chips on his plate before grabbing one of the hot sandwiches and moving it to another empty spot gingerly. His hand shook away the painful heat as Mrs. Drit came back with his water and a large knife in a sheath. “Gonna kill me on an empty stomach?”
Another laugh exploded from her separated, whitened teeth. “No, that would just be cruel.”
She unsheathed the blade and carefully cut her sandwich while leaning next to where he was. Her perfume clashed with his meaty sandwich and gave his stomach a sickening sensation, and his heart a flutter. After that, the interest of the dinner was almost non-existent. They ate quickly and spoke very little between huge bites and sips of water and red wine, respectively. ‘We’re both nervous. We wa
nna impress one another. Her because she thinks I’m a thirty-something in a teen’s body and me because she deserves it. She’s so impressive. We could be friends outside of school. I want us to be. What does she want, though? Is she just sucking up for my future? That outfit flatters the entertainment of her interest in something, but there can’t be interest. She’s a teacher, stunning in every aspect and I’m just me. Damn it this chair is killing my back.’
After finishing their meals, Caleb followed her into the kitchen carrying what she couldn’t and rubbing his back with his free hand. It must have caught her attention at some point because she asked, sounding genuinely concerned, “Did that stupid chair hurt your back? I’m sorry it does that to a lot of people. I should’ve warned you. We’ll get started in the guest room so you can relax that spine a bit. I’ll pay you back for not telling you with a massage, sound good?”
“Sure,” an off-guard Caleb responded. Her hand was resting on his lower back as he set everything down, her fingers moving in small circles; by time he turned, he could do nothing to offer resistance. No thoughts or voices told him to stop and his power stayed nestled wherever it stayed and offered as little hesitation as he did to her roving hand.
That sample of warmth lead him into the living room and sat him down on a foot stool. She exited to the kitchen, and Caleb suddenly felt light-headed. Something in the air was weakening his limbs and making him feel exhausted. ‘Room looks like a Valentine’s Day theme gone wrong. What is that? Arms are heavy….’ The walls were a lighter shade of red than the dining room but stood as the only partial similarity you could make between here and the rest of the house. The carpet was rather thick, white shag from wall to wall with a few truffles of white material probably half way up his shin. All the furniture, including the stool his buttocks were melting to, was a bright, candy pink that appeared hazy because of the thick air. He took a deep breath to try and detect any kind of drug, but nothing came to mind. ‘Can’t think.’ He leaned back on the foot stool and stared at the white ceiling until all the clamoring from the kitchen stopped. Marion seemed to strut into the room as Caleb leaned up. In a low, drowsy voice, he attempted to spit out a question, “Are we gonna start whatever we’re going to start?”