Corona of Blue
Page 25
I look at Junky. He is still stalking the robin, which hasn’t noticed the great predator kitty yet. He gets ready to pounce, but the robin finally takes note and flies away. Junky looks up and watches the bird with an expression on his face that says, “That’s total bullshit I can’t fly too, and I’m left here watching my dinner take to the sky.” Junky looks at me for about three seconds, then turns and walks over to George. That’s what I like about Junky. He gets over things quickly.
Mom says she has turned the spare bedroom into an extra room for Pug…just in case. I cried when she told me. Anytime Pug is having a rough go with his father, all he has to do is knock or call. The door will open. I love my parents for this and am very thankful for them.
Lewis sits down next to me in a lawn chair. The chair squeaks. He is wearing khaki shorts and a white T-shirt with Taste of Colorado written across the front. I wonder if he chose the shirt for this occasion.
“Oh,” he says. “That’s my back. The older you get, I wonder if it’s harder to get up or sit down sometimes.”
Since Janeen, he has not said very much. In fact, I think he is afraid of me sometimes. He is often careful with every word he says. He has not touched me much, either, as if he’s afraid I’m going to break. I do not know how to reply to what he says, so I just smile. It’s an awkward smile. I wish he would take my hand, and I realize I’m playing a stupid game with him, something out of high school. Should I…Should I wait for him to hold my hand…Should I…Should I wait for him?????
Good God. I make myself sick sometimes.
“The steak smells good,” he says.
I look over at him. “Pineapple, too,” I say.
He turns back and soaks in the sun, closing his eyes. Lewis is drinking 7-Up in a can. It must be between seventy-five, eighty degrees outside. It’s the perfect day.
I think about how perfect the day is, my family, and realize it’s bigger than I would’ve imagined. I think of Lacey. And what I really think is, BIGGER. Maybe all my dreams really have come true.
It feels like something out of a Dickens novel, all of these people here. Is that melodramatic? Optimistic? Or just hopeful? You know something…I just don’t give a damn anymore.
Lewis says he wants to help me bring the bookstore back to life. I tell him I’m still thinking about it.
Casually, I reach over and grab his hand. I will initiate this game, at least this time. It’s a strong hand, a grip I like in my own. He squeezes, holding tight for several long seconds, then loosens his grip, but he does not let go. It lets me know he’s thinking about me, cares about me, and wants what’s best for me. It’s a grip that implies many things, and all of them are good.
We sit and listen to my mom and Pug talking, to George and Dad going on and on. Dad is asking George about the war, and George is very agreeable and open. George is not uncomfortable talking about the war.
I can’t believe something like this has happened in my life. I can’t believe all of these people are here. I can’t believe I feel as good as I do.
I feel like writing a book.
I look at Junky, and he is now inspecting something on the lawn, his paws just under George’s feet. I don’t know what it is with him and George, but they are kindred spirits. Seeing Junky does something special for me, something about everything we’ve been through together and knowing he is here now is very special to me, too. I can’t describe it. It’s personal. Junky, here now, is the perfect, finishing touch. He is part of the family. We are all a family. Junky looks over at me with his Halloween eyes as if sensing my thoughts.
“I want to say so much,” I say to Lewis, only loud enough for him to hear.
He looks over at me.
I shrug. “I don’t know,” I say. “I can’t describe it. Maybe that’s the way it’s supposed to be. I wish I could tell you.”
He squeezes my hand again. “You don’t have to.”
I nod, but it doesn’t feel like enough. “Thank you, Lewis,” I say. “For being here. It means a lot to me.”
“Nowhere else I can think of being,” he says, as if reciting poetry. “That I would rather be more. Than here.” He takes the perfect pause and says, “With you.”
I squeeze his hand. It becomes a game we play, one maybe still out of high school but not as tedious and definitely more meaningful. I really do love him, I realize. I love him with all my heart, and I want him in my life for a very long time, and I hope he feels the same.
I have said my goodbyes. I have started anew. This occurs to me, but I’m not sure I believe it.
“It’s an abundance thing,” Lewis says.
“Abundance?” I ask.
He nods. He is not looking at me as he speaks. His eyes are closed, and he is leaning his head back on the lawn chair. “There’s so much going on inside of you, so much you feel that you want to describe. You want to share it. That’s easy to understand. Everyone goes through that. Sometimes people just feel it more than others, and they want to get it out. You just don’t know how is all, Rayleigh. Or it’s harder for you maybe. Because it is so much. And yet, you don’t have to. That’s the funny thing. Watching you, seeing you, listening to you, talking to you. All the gratitude is there. It’s in you, and everyone can see it. I’ll bet you a million dollars everyone here can see it, can feel it, too. Thank them if you feel you need to, Rayleigh. They’d love that. But it’s the way you conduct yourself that they’re really paying attention to. I think here now—with everyone—that’s exactly what’s happening. They notice. And they’re glad. They’re happy. Because they love you, and they want what’s best for you.” He pauses for a second. “Didn’t know I was such a philosopher, did you?”
I can’t believe I’ve met someone like this, that he likes me as much as he does, and that I like him. I almost start crying because I’ve never heard anyone say anything so beautiful to me before.
“Rayleigh?” Lewis asks.
Mom and Pug are pulling the steaks and pineapple off the grill. Dinner is about to be served. The picnic table is ready to go.
“Yes?” I say.
“I always wanted to tell you,” he says. “Something you probably hear all the time. I’m sure I’m not the first. But…”
He pauses.
“What?” I say.
He smiles boyishly. “Your hair,” he says. “I know this sounds sappy, but…it’s such beautiful raven black hair. It’s blue-black. Right now. You have a blue ring on the top of your head. You know, when I was in school, just a boy, I thought about how cool it would be to be with a girl that had hair like that. I know you might not believe it because it sounds so far-fetched and ridiculously cheesy at the same time, but it’s true. And now, here you are.”
I smile. The smile turns to loud, childish laughter. We both laugh because the moment is so childish and so right at the same time.
Perfection? Why the hell not?
I think about a time long ago when I sat under the oak tree. That in the sun, my hair is an incandescent blue. I think about the time I thought it was purple, and for a second, I think about refuting this, telling Lewis it’s not the case, that it’s purple and not blue at all, but I’m too busy smiling and chuckling because Lewis is right.
I don’t say anything. I smile, and he squeezes my hand.
We get up and grab some paper plates from the picnic table.
For the first time in my life, I’m in no mood to argue. And you know something…I haven’t imagined any of this. It’s all real. I am a blue glow. I don’t know how that’s possible. Just lucky I guess.
Rayleigh Angelica Thorn is no longer haunted…
Hell…if anything, I’m haunting you.
Thank you, Dear Reader, for taking the time to read Corona of Blue. If you enjoyed the tale, please consider telling your friends or posting a short review on Amazon. Word of mouth is an author’s best friend and much appreciated!
Sincerely,
Brandon Berntson
If you liked Corona of B
lue, you might try Boone, All the Gods Against Me, Body of Immorality, Snapdragon Book I and II.
About the Author:
Brandon Berntson was born in Boise Idaho, but grew up in various towns throughout Colorado, where most of his stories take place. A fan of dark fantasy, horror, magical realism, and young adult fantasy, he is the author of Castle Juliet and When We Were Dragons, enchanting, magical reads for all ages, along with Body of Immorality, a cryptic collection of horror stories, and the raw, adult-themed, All The Gods Against Me.
A fan of ice hockey, Beethoven, Black Sabbath, classic horror films, and Star Trek, he makes his home in Boulder, Colorado. Visit him at www.brandonberntson.com or his Amazon Author Page.
Go to the next page to see the complete works of Brandon Berntson.
Also by Brandon Berntson:
Urban/Dark Fantasy:
All The Gods Against Me: The Story of Clarence Manning
Calliope
Worlds Away
Snapdragon Book I: My Enemy
Snapdragon Book II: In the Land of the Dragon
Horror:
Boone
Corona of Blue
Body of Immorality: Tales of Madness and the Macabre
Donny’s Day
Silly Girl
To Disturb the Dead
The Battle of the Elect
Literary/Magical realism:
The Smoky Dragon (a love story)
Blue Sky Winter (A Christmas Tale)
One World
All It Will Always Be
King of Forgotten Land
Comic Horror:
Buick Cannon (A Joke From the Moon)
Fantasy/Young Adult:
When We Were Dragons
Castle Juliet