Chronicles of Jonathan Tibbs 1: The Never Hero

by T. Ellery Hodges

  Jonathan’s eyes were closed again. He was nodding as he took it all in, but his shoulders were slumping and his expression looked like he had something bitter coating the inside of his mouth that he couldn’t spit out. He didn’t appear to be denying any of it, and again, Collin found that relieving.

  “Now there’s this excursion, which, don’t get me wrong, I’m kind of excited about, even though I don’t get the hurry,” Collin said. “Tibbs, it’s not like you to do something like this, so hastily. The way things are going, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out you went nuts and blew up a Walmart or something.”

  They sat in a silence, the unspoken finally said. Jonathan sat deep in thought as he stared out the window at the passing streets; Collin stared at the bus seat in front of them. Minutes passed while Collin waited for him to get defensive, to explode with some explanation that he was a misunderstood victim, but Tibbs didn’t. He didn’t even look worried anymore, yet the words had made him heavier somehow.

  When he’d started to worry that he’d done some irreparable damage to their friendship, Tibbs finally spoke. “I don’t know what to say,” he started. “I’m not crazy; I have no plot to take out Walmart.”

  Collin smiled with relief that he’d said something. “No, I know. I was going too far with that one, but still, you must see that you aren’t ‘fine’ at least.”

  “I’ve been taking some instruction in self-defense. I’m trying to get stronger,” Jonathan trailed off, this didn’t seem to be the road he wanted to go down, so he started over.

  “When I needed to act, I froze. When I needed to think, I couldn’t,” he said, looking Collin in the eye now. “You say you can’t imagine what this has been like. You’re right; you can’t imagine it at all. You have some idea about how someone is supposed to react, like there’s some right amount, some appropriate response.”

  Jonathan stammered, restraining some anger, but Collin didn’t think it was directed at him.

  “Next time you have to look some monster in the eyes as he forces a syringe into your neck, then we can talk about what an appropriate reaction is.”

  Collin blinked, he felt himself stiffen.

  Jonathan hadn’t talked about the attacker, not since that first week. The mere story Jonathan had told about that syringe going into his neck made Collin shiver. Tibbs was right; he couldn’t imagine being the one who had to own the real memory of it, the one who had to see it again and again in his nightmares. He thought to apologize for making him explain, but Jonathan spoke again before he could.

  “I can’t be a person who this can happen to again, Collin. Next time something tries to go for my throat, they can’t, they won’t be dealing with a scared kid pissing his pants and hoping something will save him.” He said this as he pointed to his chest, “They have to be dealing with someone else.”

  Collin nodded. He looked down at the seat in front of them, breaking eye contact. It would be easier for Jonathan to talk without someone trying to stare into his soul as he did so.

  “I don’t know how long it’ll take, okay? What I do know is that school books and drinking with girls isn’t the answer. It’s not going to help. I’m not afraid of getting a job after college, or of being lonely. I’m just afraid.”

  A long time passed and the bus rolled on as they sat in silence. When Collin decided to speak again, he tried to make it clear he aimed to steer the conversation away from such seriousness.

  “You know what it is, Tibbs? It’s that you’re actually doing something, that’s what is scaring people.”

  Jonathan frowned. “I don’t follow.”

  “Horrible things happen to people,” Collin said. “Crap, not so horrible things happen to people. They get emotionally scarred, most either self-medicate or go to a therapist and get medicated. Almost everyone openly whines about it though.”

  “I still don’t follow,” Jonathan said.

  “I’m just saying, when ‘Jonathan Tibbs’ got scared, he went on a yellow brick quest to find courage and didn’t think for a second that he needed to explain himself to anyone. It’s actually a little inspiring. Or, at least it would be, if you lost that creepy look you’ve been getting.”

  Jonathan made a face like his eyes were about to cross.

  “Really?” he said. “The cowardly lion?”

  Apparently Tibbs disapproved of Collin’s reducing his explanation to a children’s book analogy.

  Collin laughed.

  “Well, it’s true, Tibbs. I don’t think a wizard will give you a badge, but how else can this end? You either find you always had it or you don’t.”

  “No,” Jonathan said, and Collin detected a note of defiance, “some things you have to build, you have to become.”

  Jonathan felt an unexpected relief after talking to Collin.

  He’d only told a shadow of the truth, but it hadn’t been a lie. The outcome was the same as far as Collin need be concerned. Perhaps, when Paige and Hayden heard what he’d said, and that Collin had believed him, they’d stop worrying.

  Had things been different, Jonathan would have considered himself blessed to have such friends. Few people, himself included of late, could spare the time to step out of their own little existence and express such concern for another. Few could spare the time to pay so much attention.

  More rare, was a friend like Collin, who would risk giving an honest opinion about what he saw, even if his delivery left something to be desired. He’d still made it clear that Jonathan needed to reign in the things that were going to make him seem dangerous to his friends. He needed to make a real effort to pay attention to the face he let the world see.

  He knew the ‘creepy look’ Collin had spoken of; he’d seen it staring back at him in the mirror so many times now he no longer thought of it as a stranger.

  When they got off the bus in White Center, Collin suddenly seemed wary of his surroundings. The area was littered with gas stations, auto shops, nail salons, and convenience stores. They quickly turned off the main drag and started walking a few blocks into the neighborhood. Collin relaxed once they were back into what looked like normal suburbs.

  Collin had been pushing to get Jonathan to go out with the rest of them that evening since they had gotten off the bus. What had been strange to Jonathan was that he was trying harder than usual this time. Jonathan couldn’t tell who Collin was pushing so hard for, Paige or himself? Finally, Collin had reminded Jonathan that it was Paige’s birthday, as he’d clearly forgotten. His resolve had faltered at that.

  “Paige bringing Grant?” Jonathan asked.

  “Maybe,” Collin replied.

  “I don’t like the guy,” Jonathan said.

  “Hate him,” Collin agreed.

  “So, is that why you’re pushing this more than usual?”

  “No, not the only reason. We told her we’d try to get you to come.”

  “I thought you said Paige didn’t want to ask me?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “What?” Jonathan asked, getting confused.

  “Yes, Paige wants you there, but not just Paige,” Collin said

  “So, who else?”

  “Your mom,” Collin said.

  Jonathan’s eyes went wide and he spun in his tracks to find Collin giving a sarcastic expression.

  “I’m kidding, Tibbs,” Collin said, surprised by Jonathan’s concern over a bad joke from the nineties. “The neighbor girl, Leah; she wants you to come. I don’t think I was supposed to tell you that, though.”

  “Sorry,” Jonathan replied. “I just freaked a little because I haven’t told my mom about school yet.”

  “Hasn’t the school notified her that you took a leave of absence for the quarter anyway?” Collin asked casually.

  “No,” Jonathan said, concerned by Collin’s tone. “Why would they?”

  “I’m assuming she co-signed on your student loans right?” Collin asked. “Seems like they’d at least notify her.”

  That this might be possibl
e hadn’t occurred to Jonathan. He made a mental note not to delay following up on it now. Unfortunately, it was a Saturday, and there was no one to call until the work week started.

  “I haven’t formally dropped out yet, they are giving me a quarter off,” Jonathan said. “I still need to call about it. I need to decide.”

  Collin just looked at Tibbs like he thought it was a mistake. As understanding as Collin had been, missing a quarter was one thing, dropping out entirely was just stupid.

  “I’ve been avoiding it,” Jonathan explained.

  “Whatever, man. Your life, I’m not judging, dumbass.” The last part he said in a fake whisper. “What about tonight?”

  “I’ll think about it,” Jonathan said.

  The conversation ended as they reached the address they were looking for. When they knocked on the door an older lady answered.

  “You the one who called about that piece of crap in the garage?” she asked.

  Jonathan had $500 in his pocket. It was all he’d been able to pull together for this purchase. ‘Pull together’ in this instance meant that for the last few weeks any purchases that could go on a credit card had: food, training, supplements, everything but rent. It was the only way he could hold on to enough money from his actual paychecks for things he couldn’t finance.

  “So he’s test driving it?” the old woman asked.

  Jonathan nodded.

  “But you’re buying it?” she continued.

  Jonathan nodded again.

  He waited on the sidewalk with Eileen, the old woman who had answered the door a few minutes earlier. It was semi-awkward, his presence there was more to assure her that Collin wasn’t stealing the motorcycle they had come to see. Jonathan being the collateral should Collin not come back from his test drive.

  “You going to need to test drive it as well?”

  “No, ma’am. If he says it runs fine, that’s all I need,” he said.

  “Good,” she said. “Don’t want to be missing my soaps over this.”

  They heard him coming long before they saw him. Collin pulled up on a Honda Hero from the mid 90’s. It looked like something he’d expect to see in a bad post apocalypse movie. Its original paint job was black. The fuel tank was dented and the paint scratched off. Whoever had owned the thing had dropped it going pretty fast. He could see that it had skidded to a stop over a paved road. The left foot pedal was bent from the fall but still usable. The seat cushion looked as though it had cracked from sun exposure. He killed the engine and pulled the helmet off.

  “Well?” Jonathan asked.

  Collin shrugged.

  “Well, it’s safe to ride. It handles for crap, but it’s got a bit of speed on it. I can fix the foot pedal in the garage. I heard a rattle but I think I can fix that too,” Collin said, looking confident.

  “Is it worth 500$,” Jonathan asked.

  “Well, just because it might be worth it doesn’t mean I’d buy it. But yeah, it’ll run. Most of the damage is cosmetic. Frankly, I’m surprised you found this thing, and she’s throwing in the helmet and the cover?”

  “Throwing it in?” exclaimed Eileen. “The ad said you have to take it all. I want the damn thing out of my garage.”

  “It took a lot of patience and Craigslist searches,” Jonathan said to Collin, as he handed Eileen the money, then he held his hand out to Collin for the helmet.

  “Wait, you expect me to walk home now?” Collin asked.

  “Hey man, I asked you to meet me here, didn’t I? Anyway, I need to get Paige a birthday present,” Jonathan said.

  Collin glared at him.

  “I really don’t get why you can’t just borrow my bike,” Collin said.

  “I’m thinking of making some alterations,” Jonathan replied.

  He pulled into the garage and parked his motorcycle. On the ride home, he’d named her Eileen, after the impatient old lady that had sold it to him. He had to agree with Collin; Eileen wasn’t as agile as a newer bike. She was decrepit, damaged, and poorly taken care of, but none of it mattered, when the time came she’d carry him swiftly to his destination.

  He pulled off his helmet. It too showed the marks of the rider that had taken the fall. Collin said he should replace it, that it wasn’t a good idea to wear secondhand gear. Jonathan didn’t have the money for that though. He set the helmet down to rest on the bike seat, and then walked across the yard to knock on his neighbor’s door.

  Jack answered. He was still in pajamas.

  “Oh, hi, Tibbs,” Jack said with a mischievous smile.

  Jonathan frowned at the child. He’d been put up to calling him that name.

  “Your big sister around?”

  “She’s working in the garage. I’ll show you,” the child said.

  Jack ran past Jonathan and out to the front driveway, the way all children do when they’re excited to be of help to an adult. Jonathan followed. When they stood in front of the garage Jonathan could hear the sounds of an air compressor being masked by loud classic rock music from behind the door. Jack indicated for Jonathan to pull up on the door handle near the bottom.

  “I can’t lift the door yet,” Jack explained.

  “Maybe now isn’t a good time?” Jonathan asked. “Sounds like she’s busy in there.”

  “It always sounds like that,” said Jack. “She usually leaves it open. It’s just a bit cold today.”

  Jonathan nodded reaching down to pull up the door.

  Immediately, he understood how Paige had been incredulous at his not knowing what had been going on in their neighbor’s garage. Leah’s back was to him, her hair was braided down her back. She had on welding gear: a mask, thick gloves, and an apron that covered her clothes. When the door opened she turned to see Jonathan, standing beside Jack, with his mouth hanging open.

  The statue sat on a platform at the back of the garage. It was almost completed from the looks of it. The piece stood tall, only a foot from touching the ceiling of the garage. It was made of steel strips that had been meticulously bent to form the contours of a man. The light from the open door reflected off the surfaces. It didn’t shine like stainless steel; it was a dark brushed metal. To Jonathan, it looked like a man holding a blacksmith’s hammer. She was still working on its last arm. The finished arm held the hammer. The skeleton of the other arm looked like it was holding a piece of unfinished scrap metal.

  “Well, that’s the expression I always hope for,” Leah said after she’d flipped up the lid of her helmet and killed the torch.

  Jonathan closed his mouth, pulling his eyes from the statue to Leah.

  “It’s amazing,” he said.

  She was pleased that he liked her art. It showed in her eyes, but her lips scrunched like she had just tasted something tart, and she tilted her head at him as she was prone to doing when she got curious about something.

  “Oh, everyone says that,” she said. “What I’d like to know is what it makes you think of?”

  Jonathan looked at the statue again. The question felt like she was a therapist holding up a Rorschach inkblot and asking him what he saw.

  “It looks like a steel blacksmith shaping steel. As if you’re saying…” Jonathan paused. “That man shapes himself?”

  “Hmmm,” she said, looking at it again from Jonathan’s perspective. “I was curious what it would evoke, I hadn’t been thinking of the symbolism, but I do like your take on it.”

  “Not sure it’s the truth, though,” Jonathan said.

  She frowned at him. He didn’t see the look right away, as he was still gazing at the statue. Finally he turned back and noticed her staring at him with a perplexed face.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Just weird that you of all people would say that,” she said.

  “How so?” he asked.

  “I don’t know a ton about you, but the one thing I’ve noticed since I moved in is that you work a great deal to shape yourself.” She nodded back to the statue. “Steel shaping itself, flesh shaping itself, sa
me difference.”

  Jonathan understood her perspective. People around him didn’t know that circumstance was shaping him, not any decision he’d made himself. She might have seen all the work he put into his body as some form of creation, some kind of art, something comparable to the work she’d put into the statue to bring the shape to life. She couldn’t know he was bending to someone else’s design.

  He wasn’t creating something to be marveled at; he was trying to build a weapon scary enough to frighten monsters.

  “You’re shaping the statue. You are creating the illusion that he is shaping himself of his own choice,” Jonathan said. “The statue just has to hope you have his best interests in mind.”

  “That’s a depressing take,” she said. “It takes away any say he has in creating himself.”

  She mused over the idea.

  “Meh,” she said, “that’s just the kind of bull that comes up when you try to make art that reflects life. The rules applying to art aren’t the rules applying to man.”

  Jonathan grinned and looked down at the ground.

  “What?” she asked.

  “My roommate, Hayden, would’ve loved to have been a part of this conversation.” He looked back up at the statue then and changed the subject. “It doesn’t have eyes. Is it supposed to be a blind blacksmith?”

  “I’m working on getting it some eyes,” she said. “Though for now, I kind of like the idea of a blind blacksmith shaping itself. Maybe I’ll just tie a blindfold over his face.”

  Jonathan looked up at the metal statue one last time and remembered why he had come over in the first place.

  “I wanted to see if you would take a look at something for me,” he said.

  “This about that favor you needed?” she asked.

  “Meet Eileen,” he said.

  “Wow,” said Leah as she set eyes on Jonathan’s motorcycle. “Where did you find this piece of junk?”

  “Blue light special at the flea market,” he joked.