Living Soul

by S. B. Niccum

  During dinner, the Admiral told us about his childhood. How Estelle, his mother, was a single mother and how he never met his father. Estelle wouldn’t talk about him either. He mentioned this, in an effort to covalence the fact that I had no parents. He also explained that, growing up; he was always getting into fights.

  One day he even ended up in jail for getting in a street fight, and his mom had to bail him out. When they got home, she told him that he was wasting his strength in useless pursuits. She was always rather mild and soft spoken, but this time he saw an intensity in her eyes that he had never seen before. She told him that we were all given gifts, and it was up to us to use them wisely. She told him that he was born a warrior, and the world needed them just as much as engineers or musicians. Estelle told him to find a good cause and fight for it, or he would waste away like his father had. This had been the first and only mention of his father that she ever made. The Admiral vowed then, that he never wanted to see that look on her face again, so he joined the Navy that same day.

  While he expounded on his life story, I felt myself transported to a different time. I could actually see the events of his own life unfolding, and my heart warmed toward this big guy in front of me. For the first time, I felt a twinge of jealousy and I wanted him in my life—a bear of grandfather who loved me and protected me.

  “How about you, Tess, do you have any family at all?” the Admiral asked between bites.

  “Just Dorian,” I said simply. “We have adopted each other, because we have no one else. When I turn eighteen I’ll have to leave foster care and fend for Dorian and myself. He has special needs and I don’t know how he could take care of himself. They might put him in a group home, but I don’t want him to end up there.” The Admiral nodded his head and Alex looked intently at me. “I want to go to college too, so I’ll have to get scholarships and loans.”

  “What do you want to study?” the Admiral asked.

  “Fashion Design, I think,” I said, not really sure of where that had come from. I had never really thought that far, but it sounded like a good plan. I did enjoy altering my own clothes and I felt a hunger for knowledge and skill in that area. Right as I said it, the idea seemed to take material shape before me and I was now sure that I would do this thing.

  Alex remained pensive and somewhat glum throughout the whole conversation, and hardly looked at me.

  “Where will you guys live while you’re in college and Dorian’s out of foster care?”

  That, I had not thought of yet. “I don’t know, I would probably have to rent an apartment or something,” I replied, but the truth was that I had no idea how I was going to pull this off. My plans had only gone as far as me getting good grades so I could get scholarships and go to college. The details escaped me.

  The Admiral smiled and reached a big hand over to pat my shoulder. “Well you can always count on my help. I like you Tess, and I would be happy to lend you a hand.”

  My eyes got instantly moist, and I fought back the urge to cry. How I would love to take full advantage of his offer!

  “How was your steak?” Alex asked. His voice sounded melancholy.

  “It was delicious! I can honestly say that I’ve never had better.” Knowing that I had never had steak before, they both laughed. Then the Admiral picked up our plates and excused himself to an adjoining room to watch a game.

  “Did you like Great Expectations?” Alex asked out of the blue, he sounded a little downhearted, but I couldn’t tell why. He seemed to be hiding something from me, or was protecting me from something—I couldn’t tell.

  “Yes, it’s one of my favorites.”

  “How many times have you read it?” he asked and his mood brightened a little.

  “Not as many times as I’ve read Jane Eyre. What do you like to read?”

  “I grew up sailing with my grandpa, we’d leave for weeks at a time and there’s no T.V on the boat, so we read a lot. When I was little he used to read to me Arabian Nights, The Odyssey and The Iliad. We still read out loud to each other; it’s a tradition that we can’t seem to break away from. Lately we’ve been reading Dumas, but Dickens, we haven’t read yet,” he smirked, remembering something. “We have a strict adventure books only policy,” he added with a smile.

  Right then a mental image of a young Alex with the Admiral, on the deck of my imaginary sailboat dressed like pirates having a mock sword fight popped into my head. This made me chuckle and I wondered if the thing I imagined might have actually occurred on one of their sailing trips. Then that melancholy feeling came back and I promptly brushed it aside for fear the tears that I was trying to keep at bay, would overflow.

  “Well … I’m prejudiced; I tend to like all the stories about orphans. But I would like to read Dumas next, which—”

  “The Count of Monte Cristo,” he said, not letting me finish. “He was sort of orphaned,” he grinned.

  “I’ll have to check that one out.”

  “No need. Here, you can have my copy.” He thumbed through the bookcase and handed me a well-worn hard cover copy of the book.

  I looked up at him intending to smile, but those tears escaped and fell down my cheek, betraying my emotions. I looked down and tried to blink them away, but Alex beat me to it and gently wiped a few tears away.

  “I’m sorry,” I apologized. “I don’t know why … ”

  He lifted my face and looked tenderly into my eyes. I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around my own feelings at that point; all I knew for sure was that I loved him, and that he had a girlfriend.

  Alex must have been thinking about his girlfriend too, because he slowly dropped his hand and turned ashen.

  “I should probably get you home now,” he said softly.

  I nodded, much against my own will. I didn’t want this night to end, but reality was calling me back to Hell.

  Chapter 5

  Agatha had now fully embraced the whole Goth thing. She never left her room anymore; not even to watch her favorite reality TV shows with Charlotte. Her wardrobe now fully consisted of black or gray items and black, lace-up, leather boots. Her music had lost all melody to it and was mainly made up of jarring noises. She had a little group of followers, that frequented her room, and they never spoke to anyone—ever.

  I was looking forward to the next day of school, but I was apprehensive. I wondered how my relationship with Alex had changed—if at all. The anticipation of what might happen today had my stomach all in knots, and because of this I paid no attention to Agatha and her coven’s odd behavior as I entered the school. She was leaning against a corner of the entrance with them and she was wearing her “hungry vampire” contacts that made her irises look black. She had accentuated her vampirish look by dying two strands of hair around her face blood red. I chuckled as I saw her, and shook my head. She seemed to be especially pleased today because she made no comment as I passed her. But immediately, I noticed an even bigger threat.

  Genie and her gang of sparkly cheerleaders were blocking my way to my locker. I looked up and smiled impertinently at her. She called me some obscene name and everyone around me froze in place. All the students instinctively knew that high school history was now in the making and that they would be able to call themselves, official witness.

  I didn’t respond to her insult, but I didn’t look away either. I just stared at her, no smile this time. I was suddenly very aware of her freshly manicured nails with embedded rhinestones.

  “He’s taken,” Genie informed me, sounding like a spoiled socialite who was having a bad hair day.

  “Who?” I asked without flinching.

  “My boyfriend, Alex.”

  I probably shouldn’t have done this, but a smile crossed my face; I couldn’t help it. She was so insecure! But truth be told, if she was worried—I was glad.

  She started coming toward me. Her eyes blazing and her jaw set. I didn’t want to hit anyone and I certainly didn’t want to get hit, myself. I was planning on ducking and I hoped that her s
tilettos wouldn’t be sturdy enough to support her if she took a swing at me; but suddenly I realized that some more people were coming at me from behind.

  “You want to fight, Barbie?” Agatha called from behind me. I turned and saw her and her little band of vampires looking bloodthirstily at the Cheering squad. “I’d like to reserve the right of beating you up,” Agatha sneered.

  Genie’s sparkly swat team promptly turned and walked away digging their high heels angrily into the tiled hallway floor as they went. I didn’t bother thanking Agatha; that would have only encouraged her to make me do some chore for her later. Luckily she left without asking for any thanks, instead I heard them laugh and make fun of the cheerleaders as they walked away.

  Brandy and her sister had witnessed the whole thing from the sidelines and they stared at me, open mouthed, as I approached.

  “Sometimes I think that Genie has mental problems,” Brooke said with contempt. I shrugged.

  “She is psycho, Brooke! Why does she pick on Tess? Why would she ever think that Tess is a threat to her?” Brandy demanded of her sister. Brooke didn’t respond; she just looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

  “Threat or not, if Genie ever bothers you again Tess, and your Fairy-goth-mother is not there to protect you, you can count on me!” Brooke added and we all burst out laughing at her comment, right as Alex came to his locker. He looked livid, I thought the look was for me, but the moment he saw me, his face softened.

  “I’m sorry, Tess—I—” He shook his head unable to put his thoughts into words. “I’m so sorry, are you OK?”

  “Yes,” I said coolly and looked away. I didn’t know why he was dating her before, but if he continued to date her now—. He must have caught my meaning because he straightened up, nodded once, retrieved his things, and left.

  I felt sorry about my tone the minute he was gone, but I still felt somewhat betrayed by his actions. I knew he liked me, he knew I liked him, but his girlfriend had some strange hold on him and there didn’t seem to be anything I could do about it.

  Later that day, I accepted Wes’s standing invitation to go out, and resolved to get over Alex, one way or another.

  The days seemed to blend into each other. I could hardly tell when one ended and another one began. There were only a few variations to my life; the first was a weekend job I got at a local boutique that sold essential oils. The store was on Historic Main St. where all the shops had been remodeled to look like you were stepping back in time about two hundred years. The shop was called The Apothecary and, thanks to this job, I was able to save up enough money to procure for myself a mode of transportation. It was nothing fancy, just an old, aqua colored scooter that got me around town, when the weather allowed it. The other break from monotony came on my seventeenth birthday, by way of an unexpected gift from Dorian.

  The gift was made more meaningful by the fact that it was of his own making. It was a collection of his drawings, four to be exact. The first one was a portrait of a lady I had never seen before. I asked him who she was, but got no answer; he just peered at the drawing with his blank stare and gave me no hint. The second one was of him and I embracing each other on the floor, just like we did on the day I told him that we were family.

  The third picture was of a house, two stories high, rectangular in shape and very symmetrical with four windows, two on each side and two “A” shaped eaves over the top windows. Red terracotta tiles formed the roof, and the walls looked like stucco or cement. The four windows were framed by wrought iron balconies, which were adorned with cascading red geraniums. The front door looked solid and wide, and the heavily treed landscape, looked like no place I’ve ever seen. In front of the house was a dock, where a sailboat named “Odysseus” was docked.

  The fourth picture completely unnerved me. This picture was of me, sitting on a bus bench, with my hands to my face as if crying, and rain coming down hard all around me. Behind me, and floating just a few feet from the ground, were three shadowy figures. They had cynical, tormenting smiles on their disfigured faces as they bent over me. Part of their essence was spread out like smoke and wrapped itself around me, so that I was completely engulfed by them.

  “The voices …” I whispered and shivered. “Could this be?” I looked at Dorian for an explanation, but he gave none. Once he was satisfied that I had seen all the pictures, he simply went back to his bed and resumed his next project.

  My relationship with Alex during school was distant for a while, but then it slowly reverted back to what it used to be—a kind look and a polite sentence or two. His relationship with Genie seemed to go through a similar pattern, but I didn’t ask and he didn’t tell me. I was pretty sure they were still together, though he seemed annoyed at her all the time. She never came to his locker anymore and I was glad of that, in fact I had no further encounters with her at all. She avoided me and I avoided her, too.

  Wes tried hard to win my heart, with all kinds of fun activities, but I could tell that my icy disposition was frustrating him. I didn’t think I was icy by nature, in fact I knew that I wasn’t because of the dreams; I’m never icy with Alex in my dreams.

  These dreams have actually been a source of great concern for me lately. I’m angry at my weakness when it comes to Alex and I fear that if I continue with this obsession I will lose my sanity altogether. Already there have been days when I can’t tell if I’m dreaming or if I’m awake when I see him. He might smile at me in the hallway and I read all kinds of things into that smile that I know are not there in real life. But I can’t help it, come nightfall, all I can think of while crawling in bed, is of him. My last thoughts as I lose consciousness are of him and whether or not I’ll see him in my head that night.

  Not all dreams are the vivid dreams, where we talk for hours, hold each other, and sail. Some are two-dimensional and lack the same intensity and depth. So what are those other dreams? Why the difference?

  As I turned the last page of The Count of Monte Cristo, a tear slides down my cheek. I read the book as slowly as I could, so as to prolong the inevitable—giving it back. In my hands I held a part of him, something he touched … something he loved. I tried to picture him sitting on a boat, reading under the baking hot sun, surrounded by blue ocean water, just like the color of his eyes.

  “Tess! Tess! Over here!” Just as I had imagined him, Alex stood on the deck of The Odysseus. I glided to him as if flying was second nature. Once my foot touched the deck, Alex extended one arm and helped me get on board. “I knew you’d come today.”

  “How?”

  “You looked … conflicted today.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and squeezed me tightly against his torso.

  I smiled and wished that the real Alex had noticed. But I didn’t say anything; if these dreams were a delusion, I wanted them … I needed them.

  “You still look conflicted.”

  I took in a deep breath and felt as alive and as free as ever.

  “It’s nothing, nothing that matters now anyway. So … where are you taking me this time?” I inquired, impishly.

  “I was thinking we could skirt the shore to Florida, and see how far we get.”

  I shrugged, not particularly concerned over our destination. Then it hit me. My destination. The heaviness of my own future hung over me like an anvil waiting to drop. Had I been right to promise Dorian that I would take care of him? How was I going to accomplish this? The Admiral had brought up a very crucial kink in my plans; what would I do with Dorian while I went to school?

  “That’s it! There it is again!” Alex pointed to my face.

  “What?” I asked somewhat defensively.

  “That worried look. I hate seeing that on your face.”

  I shook my head, and tried not to spoil this fleeting moment with Alex with my personal baggage. But he looked like he was not going to drop it, so I relented. I told him of my dilemma, and how I can’t stand not having a clear picture of how I was going to work things out for us. “Not going to school is out
of the question. But I might have to postpone it.” I said with dismay, and felt like crying.

  In an instant he was by my side, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me to his chest, like he did that night, out in the rain.

  “I could—”

  “No!” I cut him short. There was no way I would let him help me. I wasn’t sure why I felt so strongly about this, he wasn’t even real! But there was something inside of me that rejected the idea completely. “I have to do this on my own.”

  “We can’t do everything on our own! You’re just a kid, Tess. At some point you’ll have to depend on someone.”

  “I can do this,” I said with a certainty that came out of nowhere. “How about you, Alex? What will you do after high school?” I asked, moving the subject away from myself.

  “I’m going to join the military and I’m going to learn to fly.” He looked up at the sky and watched with envy as a seagull flew by.

  “I thought you wanted to go to college?” I frowned.

  “I do … and I will. I can do both.”

  “You don’t strike me as the type who would join the military.”

  He raised one eyebrow. “And what is the type?”

  “I don’t know … someone like me. Someone who can’t afford college.”

  “Well, I don’t know why others join the military. But I’m doing it because I love my country and our way of life, and I’m willing to fight to keep it that way.” He stuck his chest out and looked as determined as ever. “I know no one expects this of me, I know that everyone thinks I’m just a spoiled rich kid who’s going to join a fraternity and breeze through college simply because my father, and his father, are alumni at Harvard.” He looked pensive for a moment. “Not that I like war or anything, but a voluntary army needs to be made up of people who want justice, people with convictions.” He looked down at his hands and fidgeted with his fingers. His words sounded like they came straight from the Admiral’s mouth.