Solstice - Of The Heart

by John Blenkush

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yes, it does.”

  “Then it should matter to you so much of the universe’s energy is never used simply because mankind has not reached a level capable of harnessing it. If I, and others, are given the gift of channeling energy through our bodies, then how can that be a bad thing?”

  “Depends on how you use it.”

  “We don’t use it for warfare. We don’t use it to hurt people.”

  “No? I saw you and your cousins touching other students in the halls yesterday.”

  “We didn’t’ do any harm.”

  “What do you mean? They got sick!”

  “Not because of us.”

  “But you sucked life-force out of them, the same as a vampire does when he sucks blood!”

  “Not blood. Energy. Energy which, had we not captured, would have been squandered, lost back to the universe. Where’s the good?”

  “I don’t have an answer. All I know is a lot of kids got sick.”

  “And they would have done so with or without the transference.”

  “Is that what you gave me? Their energy?”

  “Energy doesn’t belong to anyone. It is of the universe. We only borrow it, use it, transfer it from one object to another, one entity to another. It is neither created nor lost. It exists and circulates like water from rain, to river, to ocean and back to rain. Each droplet survives eternally in some form or another. It’s the same way with energy.”

  I had never heard Aaron speak this way at length about anything before. It set me back on my heels.

  All I could mutter was, “E=MC squared.”

  “Yes, exactly,” he said. He reached out his hand and laid it on my arm. “I do care for you, Julissa. I only want to see you well.”

  The tender touch, the heart provoking words; they did what Aaron had said they would. They juiced me with warmth and energy. How different was that, other than in degree, from the hand holding and transference of energy I felt earlier?

  I wanted to believe in Aaron. I wanted to know him better. Yet I was scared. Frightened at what might happen. What if he grabbed me as Bernard had done Garl and, in a fit of rage, sucked the life-force out of me? Would I die in his arms? Or have to have Cherrie hide me as she did her grandfather in a shack so no one would ever know it was Aaron who had killed me, even if by accident?

  Cherrie showed at the door, a Styrofoam cup in her hand. Coffee aroma filled the room.

  “Well,” Aaron said, as he stood, “guess our date for tonight is off. You get well. I’ll see you in school tomorrow.”

  As I watched Aaron leave, KM, the nurse entered the room.

  “Who was that?” she said.

  Cherrie tried to cover for me. “He’s our brother.”

  KM laughed. “I got to say, Sweetie, you sure do have relatives coming out of the wood work. You’d think you won the lottery or something. How are you feeling?”

  “Excellent.” I sat up.

  “You do at that. Must be something to these relatives coming and going. Your color is back. Your readings all look good. Doctor can’t make it in this morning. He’s in surgery. But he did tell me I could check you out of the hospital providing,” KM held up a finger, “you take it easy for the next couple of days. He signed this release. No school until Monday. Bed rest for the next two days.”

  I reached for the release.

  KM pulled it away.

  “Did you hear me, young lady? Bed rest for the next two days. Agreed?”

  “Yes.”

  Cherrie steadied me as I walked out of the hospital. I motioned her off.

  “I’m fine,” I said. “I can walk on my own.”

  Cherrie backed off. “Yes you are. Looks like whatever drug Aaron gave you, it’s doing wonders.”

  “He didn’t give me any drugs.”

  “I told you before. Don’t try to kid a kidder. You didn’t heed my warning, did you? You and I both know he gave you an infusion of something. And it wasn’t buzz beans.”

  I climbed into the LC. Cherrie got behind the wheel.

  “You’re not going to tell, are you?”

  “Tell who what? You keep quiet about grandpa and I won’t say anything about Aaron or how he is drugging you in more ways than one.”

  “What drugs!”

  “Love is a drug and that other thing, well, I don’t know what it is, but it has some of the same effect on you. I see it. You know it. Yes! Drugs. So? Deal?”

  Cherrie was right about the energy transference. I felt like I had been drugged, but in a good way, one where, at the moment, I felt fully energized. You know the feeling. You’re unstoppable. I felt I could do anything, including convincing myself I was indeed in love with Aaron and he I. Otherwise why would he wait up all night watching over me? Isn’t that a love thing?

  “Well?”

  Cherrie waited for my answer.

  “Deal.”

  14 MINNESOTA BECKONING

  I found Dierdra lying on the couch in the living room, asleep when I got home. Pictures lay strewn about. I had seen them before. They were of me and my parents, shots of bygone times from when I was first born all the way through until recently.

  A glass lay on the floor. It smelled of whiskey. I looked at the bottle of Makers Mark Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey sitting on the kitchen counter, a Costco buy, which made it king-sized. A good portion of it was gone. How many glasses had she drunk? One? Two? More?

  Dierdra’s suitcase sat by the front door.

  I stepped through the pictures and looked down on Dierdra. Her face looked drawn, tired. She had kicked the blanket off and, because there wasn’t a fire, she now lay cold, curled up in the fetal position. As I pulled the covers up over her, she woke.

  “Hi Baby. You’re home?”

  “Yes, they discharged me.”

  I went to work building a fire, placing paper, cardboard, a pine cone and erecting kindling and wood in tepee formation. I had Uncle Mickey to thank for my fire starting skills. Although very young, I still remembered how he laid up the building blocks to start a flame. It has never failed me.

  Dierdra sat up. She wrapped the blanket around her and tucked in her feet. “It’s cold.”

  “I know, Mom. I’m building a fire.”

  “What time is it?”

  “A little after eight.”

  “How’d you get home?”

  “Cherrie brought me.”

  “I should have been there to bring you home.”

  “It’s okay, Mom.”

  “Cherrie’s such a sweet girl. I’m glad you two are friends.”

  “Me too, Mom.”

  “She told me you’re like a sister to her.”

  “I pretty much feel the same way, she being the older sister, of course.”

  The fire took off. I closed the glass doors and adjusted the damper. I sat down at the foot of the couch, opposite where Dierdra sat.

  “You been looking at pictures again.”

  Dierdra’s eyes welled up. She struggled to control the upwelling of emotion.

  “Yes.”

  “Why, Mom?”

  “I thought I lost you.”

  “You didn’t. I’m okay. Just a little bump on the head is all. Not like the time...” I didn’t want to say it. ...like the time Chuck Segovia and I went through the ice.

  “This could have been worse.”

  I didn’t see how, but okay.

  “Yes, but it wasn’t.”

  Dierdra leaned down and picked up a handful of pictures. “I miscarried three times before I had you. Did I ever tell you that?”

  She had, of course. Numerous times.

  “Yes, you did.”

  “You were our miracle baby.”

  She showed me a picture of me when I was but a few days old. I looked scrawny, wrinkled, and some would say, ugly. Dierdra held me in her arms and, although she looked severely fatigued with her hair mussed and her make-up washed away by the sweat of labor, the broad smile s
he displayed as a new mom shone through like a bright star.

  “Aren’t all babies miracles, Mom?”

  I had heard this stated many a time.

  “Yes, they are. But you are special.” Look,” she said, as she handed me a picture, which showed me with a fistful of birthday cake. There were three candles on the Snoopy cake.

  “Yes, Mom. I’ve seen all of these. Do we have to do this now? I’m tired. I think I’ll go to bed.”

  I rose.

  Dierdra ignored or didn’t hear my request. She grabbed my arm, pulled me down beside her on the couch, and shoved another photograph in my face.

  The picture was familiar as were they all. This one was special, even to me. I sat in dad’s lap, probably at the age of five or so. I wore a ruffled dress. My hair poked out from behind my head, done up into two ponytails. I hugged my favorite doll to my chest. Dad’s face showed pride. He literally beamed.

  “Your father was so proud.”

  Dierdra showed me another picture.

  I was older, ice skating at a rink. Dad stood in the background, leaning against the rail, following my every move, cheering my every antic.

  In his mind, I was sure, he saw me perfect in every way.

  “Mom, you should get some sleep. I should get some sleep.”

  “You remember the time you were sledding and you bumped your nose.”

  How could I forget? There is nothing more in contrast then red blood in the pure white driven snow. My nose, gushing blood, left a trail from here to there. Naturally, my parents overreacted. I wound up in the emergency room, where the nurses, although polite, urged Mom and Dad to think twice about using emergency services for frivolous injuries.

  I pointed to the suitcase and, mostly because I wanted to change the subject, I asked Dierdra what she was doing with her bag.

  Her reply?

  “Do you miss Minnesota?”

  “Well...yes. Some of it. Not the bitter cold.”

  “What do you think about going back?”

  Going back!

  “Mom, what are you doing?”

  “It’s just that I haven’t been very well here.”

  “So you packed a suitcase and you’re going back to Minnesota? That doesn’t make sense.”

  “No. To Redding.”

  “Okay, Mom. I don’t understand what you are trying to tell me.”

  “I haven’t adjusted very well here, Julissa. You know that.”

  I got up. For some reason I started to feel cold. Maybe the thought of going back to Minnesota and spending another long cold winter in the deep freeze added to the chill, but mostly I thought it was because I couldn’t fathom the thought of never seeing Aaron again. I stood in front of the fire and let the heat burn into my back.

  “This was your idea, to move here. You said it would bring you closer to Dad, because...remember? You said his spirit lives on the mountain.”

  “I remember. I do. But I still miss him. It hurts.”

  She broke into tears.

  “I do too, but it’s been three years, Mom. Don’t you think he would want you to move on? To be happy?”

  “I was. I was beginning to feel happier, more content, and then last night when you were almost killed...”

  “You’re dramatizing, Mom. I wasn’t almost killed.”

  “We didn’t know that. And you could have been. When I saw the boy hit you, I thought you were dead.”

  “You saw me get hit?”

  “Yes. I saw you walking across the street. I was going to meet you at the door and tell you I needed to go to Redding to see my client.”

  I’d had just about enough with this client thing.

  “Stop it!”

  “What?”

  “Your client?”

  “Yes. In Redding.”

  I sat down on the couch beside her. I placed a hand on her arm.

  “If you have something going on with another man, that’s okay with me. Dad wouldn’t want you to be alone for the rest of your life.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re staying overnight in Redding. For a client?”

  “I am.”

  “Since when does a psychotherapist stay overnight with a client?”

  Dierdra hung her head. She wrestled with her hands. “When you’re the client.”

  I sat back and thought for a second. When you’re the client.

  “You’re seeing someone? Professionally?”

  “Yes. I can’t do this on my own anymore.”

  “But you’re a psychotherapist.”

  “The worst patient is oneself because we humans can’t break down the barriers we build for self-preservation without someone else’s help. And I’ve built a fortress.”

  “But to stay overnight? Why?”

  “Observation. I don’t sleep well. I have dreams. My doctor interviews me the next morning when my subconscious is still fresh.”

  “I’m sorry Mom. I didn’t mean to imply anything.”

  “That’s okay. I should have been more forthcoming. I just didn’t want you to worry about me. You have your school studies and your life to contend with.”

  (Like I didn’t already know something was wrong)

  “You’re not really thinking about going back to Minnesota, are you?”

  I asked this with a lot of apprehension.

  “My doctor says it’s an alternative and I should keep all my options open at this point.”

  “What about being close to Dad’s spirit and all that?”

  “I don’t feel him close. I see the mountain, but I don’t feel him. I’m not even sure I know what it is I’m looking for.”

  “Dad’s been here, Mom. On the mountain and in this cabin. He shopped at the Fifth Season.”

  “But he died on Mount Hood.”

  “Now you want to move there? To Oregon?”

  “No. I didn’t say that. I’m still searching. His friends are in Minnesota. My friends are in Minnesota. Don’t you miss your friends? You and Dennie Jo were tied at the hip all through junior high.”

  “Yes and no. We kept in touch at first, but Dennie Jo has moved on and so have I.”

  “I know you have Cherrie. She’s sweet, but she seems too old for you. Don’t you have any friends your age?”

  I stalled by throwing more wood on the fire and pretended I didn’t hear what Dierdra asked. She answered for me.

  “I talked to Aaron at the hospital.”

  “What? When?”

  “In the waiting room when the doctors were working on you in emergency. Cherrie...”

  “Cherrie was there too?”

  “Yes.”

  “In the waiting room?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  I imagined the worst. Dierdra, Cherrie, and Aaron all secluded in a room together—and I was the main topic of conversation?

  I didn’t know where to begin.

  “How’d you meet Aaron?”

  “He was there when you fell.”

  “At the accident!”

  “Yes.”

  “What was he doing here?”

  “He told me you two had a spat in school. He felt bad about it so he came over to apologize. He brought you this.”

  Dierdra handed me a small box, the kind a ring might come in.

  Something told me not to open it. Why would Aaron be giving me a ring so early in our relationship?

  I set it off to the side.

  “And he just happened to be there when I was knocked over by a snowboarder?”

  “Yes. He saw the four of them coming over the hill. I saw him waving his arms at you to warn you, but I guess you didn’t see him. Everything just happened so fast. Now that I think about it, it was odd, though.”

  “What Mom? What was odd?”

  “There were four snowboarders.”

  “Yes, you said that. That’s odd?”

  “No, but,” Dierdra turned toward me with a puzzled look on her face, “three of them were going backwards.
”

  “You mean riding their snowboards facing backwards?”

  “No. They were facing forward, but they were going back up the hill.”

  “Like something pushed them?”

  “Yes. Back up the hill. And then they fell down.”

  “What happened to the fourth guy? I mean did he go backwards, too?”

  “No. He was behind you when I first saw him.”

  “And he’s the one that hit me.”

  “Yes. I don’t think he saw you, not that it makes any difference. They should never have been snowboarding on the road in the first place.”

  “Why don’t you think he saw me?”

  “Because he was looking back over his shoulder to see what happened to his friends.”

  I sat down next to Dierdra. I looked into her eyes.

  “Mom, this is important. Was Aaron waving at me or did it look like he might be doing something else?”

  Dierdra looked away. I could see her trying to remember the details. I really didn’t expect her to remember anything except my being pummeled by a snowboarder. But I knew her training in psychology had ingrained in her an acute awareness of observing and remembering minute detail, even during times of duress.

  I hoped for the best.

  “He did this,” she said. She held up her hands, palms forward, arms stretched out, fingers splayed.

  I sank back into the cushions.

  “I think he was trying to stop you or maybe catch you as you slid down the hill.”

  No, he wasn’t.

  I knew different.

  Aaron stopped three of the snowboarders, but the forth one, because I blocked a direct line of sight to him, his force could not stop. In fact, Aaron’s force may have even pushed me back into the snowboarder, although I didn’t remember going backwards, only being hit from behind.

  The more I thought about it, the more it became clear; Aaron’s attempt to stop the snowboarders had led to the collision. Had the boy behind me not been looking back to see what had happened to his buddies, he would have seen me and more than likely gone around.

  Aaron certainly must have realized he was at fault after the collision.

  “That’s why he came to the hospital.”

  “What?”

  “Oh, just thinking out loud. Wondering what Aaron was doing at the hospital.”