by Luke Valen
Uncle Homer must have been out getting supplies. I didn’t see him when I had gotten home. Good thing—he would have lectured me about how back in his day…Blah. Blah. Blah. The old man had so many war stories, they all seemed to melt into one.
Leaving the warm confines of my church, the cold brisk air crashed against my exposed face like the waves of an ocean hitting the shore. I ran as fast as I could, the thought of her was both intriguing and irking.
I am the deep blue annoyance of love.
Making my way through the frigid streets, the smell of burning firewood warmed my soul. Looking into the small cabin houses as I passed, the families all seemed so happy. Like a fishbowl of humans, just living their lives, unaware of my existence. Unaware of my fleeting envy.
As I neared my destination, the golden rays of life peeked over the mountains as the sun dropped behind them, exchanging watch to the moon. The marshmallow clouds that lined the sky like blankets of the earth were now a mixture of pinks, oranges, and reds. As if God himself had painted a masterpiece. Just because.
The smell of firewood was overtaken by that of freshly ground coffee beans. My sign that I had reached my final destination. The cybercafé.
Living in an old abandoned church has its ups and downs. One, no one ever bothered me, and two, I could do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted.
Well, mostly. Uncle did have tendency of making me do chores and follow some of his outdated rules. The most annoying of which was having to burn a bushel of sage in every fire, every night. The burning wasn’t the annoying part. The remembering to always bring home some sage from town was. Crazy old man said he learned it in the war from some local natives, said it warded off evil spirits.
Overall, living in the church wasn’t too bad.
Though one of the only downsides to living off the grid was no electricity. Hence, no computer or internet connection. Thus, the cybercafé.
I had to see that video again. Maybe it could give me a clue as to what is going on and how these…powers…are triggered.
Dingle-ling.
The little brass bell rung from above the door as I entered the lounge. No one batted an eye, they were all so concentrated on their screens, like zombies fueled by reality stars, seven-second videos, and photos of cats with little hats on. This is what has become of humanity. The degradation of the mind through flashing lights and viral videos. Okay, time to go watch my viral video.
“Hello, sir, welcome to Forest Café,” the barista said with his fake prescription glasses, man bun, and wooden bow tie.
The poor soul, he was genuinely happy to greet me. I gave a charitable nod. I was too focused for small talk.
Jumping on the first computer I found, I began the search. Okay what do I search…
Guy…gets…thrown…through…wall…
Let’s see if that works.
“Wow. That was easy.” There it is—got it. Play. The sound of cheers and screams exploded into the peaceful café as the video commenced.
“Sir! Sir!” the greeter yelled as he ran to my desk. Frantically searching through all the symbols and buttons, I found the mute button and smashed it. “Sorry about that.”
I actually was sorry. It had scared me too.
“Sir, this is a silent café in courtesy of those trying to read or write in peace. If you would like to watch videos, you are going to need to check out one of our headsets.” He pointed to the front desk with a basket of headsets sitting on top.
I nodded. “Okay, yeah. Sure.”
“Okay, sir, if you would just follow me up to the front desk, I can help you with that,” the man bun said as he made his way back to the desk, coaxing me to follow suit. I stood and followed.
“All right, how much?” I asked, pulling out some loose change and a couple lint balls from my coat pocket.
“Oh no, sir, there is no charge. Just sign here and you’re all set. Just remember to return them before you leave.” He pointed to a clipboard and smiled.
How trusting of him.
Confused, yet mostly indifferent, I grabbed the headset. “Thanks.”
The eyes from the café patrons had been glued to me from start to finish, all the way back to my silent seat.
Just as I sat back down and pressed play—“Hey, hey, you’re that guy!” The voice had come inching in from the back of the room with an excitement that again broke the silence.
All eyes were back on me.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said without breaking my sight from the playing video. “How did I…”
“That guy!” he repeated as a skinny finger came pointing in from over my shoulder and onto the computer screen.
I had no other choice than to turn and look at who was addressing me as “That guy.”
Bryon.
I tried to turn back to the screen as fast as I could, hoping he wouldn’t notice I had recognized him. That would only escalate his excitement.
“Dude, that was so badass, the way you flipped that jerk and then threw the other one through a freaking wall! Bro, I mean, how much do you lift?!” He couldn’t catch his breath, he was filled with so much excitement. “You must work out every day! Everyone is talking about you. You’re the man.”
He keeps saying that like it meant something to me. I looked around—the eyes of the room were on me once again, only this time they came with a different, unfamiliar emotion. The energy in the room had changed. The eyes were wider, more alive than before. As if the trance of virtual reality had been broken by actual reality.
Groups of two and more began to form, and whispers could be heard.
“That’s him.”
“No it’s not.”
“That’s the guy. That’s the one from the video.”
I heard as their eyes darted from me to computer screen, back to me and back to the computer screens.
I had to get out of here.
Leaping out of my chair, I tried to ignore how the room began to buzz with an excited and curious commotion. The hipster tending to the front tried to regain control. “People. People. Please, lower your voices. There are others that are trying to concentrate.”
No one was trying to concentrate on anything other than the freak who had thrown another human through a solid wall.
I crossed the room before the hipster turned his attention to me.
“Sir, sir. Your headphones…I need those back!”
The headphones were still draped over my shoulders and around my neck as I ran toward the door. Shoulda charged me. I didn’t stop.
“Yo. Where are you going?! You gotta teach me some of those moves! I didn’t even catch your name!” Bryon shouted over the buzzing bees and disgruntled employee.
His words fell short of my ears as the bell rung again—dingle-ling—punctuating my exit.
—§—
“So. Abigail. How was your day?” Her father’s deep voice echoed throughout the dining hall. The smell of rich mahogany and caramel occupied the residence.
“It was fine,” Abigail quickly answered.
“Anything exciting happen today?” Mr. Li’Ved removed his suit jacket and placed it over his chair.
“No,” she lied. “Not really. Nope. Nothing I can think of. How was your day, Daddy?” Abigail twiddled her thumbs in her throne-like dinner chair. The table couldn’t be big enough.
“Just another long day of business. Headquarters was very busy today. Numbers are up.” He loosened his tie and sat at the dinner table. Food of every country and a palette of colors lined the table. The smell of freshly baked bread and roasted chicken gently wafted through the air. Candles lined the table, lighting the food so elegantly.
An awkward silence filled the room, so thin a pin drop could be heard a mile away.
“When can I visit you at HQ? I think I’m old enough now.” Abigail spun the grape juice in her gold-lined glass and took a sip.
“Abigail. We’ve discussed this. You know you can’t come down there,” he
said, cutting his steak and taking a bite. The sound of firewood crackled from the fireplace at the end of the room.
“I know. I just figured—”
“So. Are you excited for graduation?” he asked, leaning into the question. His eyes focused on his daughter.
“Yeah, I guess so. But, Daddy, there was actually something I wanted to ask you about. I think something is happening to—”
A cell phone started ringing, and the Bluetooth device began to flash on his ear.
“Hello…What can I do for you, B?” Holding up a finger to Abigail, he gestured that it would only take a brief moment.
Looking down to her now-tasteless food, she knew that was the end of their conversation.
“No! No! We have gone over this!” he yelled into thin air. Leaning over, he said, “I’ve got to take this, baby. I’m sorry.” He kissed her on the forehead and walked out of the dining hall, the echoes giving way to his annoyed tone. “I thought I told you to take care of it.”
Under her breath, Abigail muttered, “Well, that was another great conversation, Dad. Love you too, Dad. Thanks for the dinner, Abigail. Oh, no problem, Dad.” She played with her food, forking it left to right.
Sadness became her. Although this was the life that she knew and the father that she had grown so accustomed to, Abigail had never given up hope that one day she and her father would have that connection she longed for. The kind that existed in the movies, where a father would come home, smiling and happy, sweep her up off the ground, spin her around, and tell her how much he loved and missed her. Dreams could be melancholy. No matter how much she did or what she achieved, it always seemed short of impressing her father. Her sadness was personified by the self-playing piano in the living quarters. “Nocturne in A Minor” by Chad Lawson sang the notes of sweet, sweet sadness. Alone again in this castle, she was beside herself. To live a life that she was not happy with, yet she still must put on the smile she was known for. Her dreams danced around her mind of a father, a mother, a family. A loving family.
Something she would never have.
They disappeared with the final notes of the melody, like ghosts of smoke from a life never lived. Only dreams of her nocturnal mind. The pounding of her heart, returning back to her routine beat. With the final keystroke of the piano—
DING-DONG!
The doorbell rang loudly throughout the complex. A rude finale to the solemn piano.
“I’ll get it!” Abigail exclaimed, as if her father would have even come in the first place.
Abigail ran over from the dining hall, through the marble-laden floors, reaching the front door.
—§—
As she opened the door, to her surprise, yours truly was standing there once again.
“What are you doing here?!” she whispered loudly as she stepped out of the doorway, closing it behind her just enough to block their conversation.
“You want to talk? You want to find out what is really going on?” I asked with a directness that could not be beaten around.
“Who is it, Abigail?” Mr. Li’Ved asked from somewhere inside the house.
She ignored the question, looking back into the house and back out.
“Well, I do too. I want to figure out what is happening to me, and for some odd reason, I think you may be able to help,” I continued.
“No one, Daddy! Just a Girl Scout selling some cookies.”
A Girl Scout, ha. Who does she think she was fooling?
“You have to go,” Abigail said, giving me the look. That look that meant she was not playing around, that it was time to leave or maybe this time it would be me that would get thrown across the room.
“A Girl Scout? This late?” her father responded once again, his voice still coming from somewhere deep in the house.
I could see obvious confusion on Abigail’s face, as if questioning why he was so concerned, and I quickly whispered, “Meet me at the church at midnight tonight when your dad is asleep.”
Abigail turned her head inside the doorway and lied through her teeth to her concerned father, yelling. “Ummhuuuhh!” She looked back at me, whispering. “You mean sneak out? I can’t do that—my dad will find out! And if he finds out a boy is here, even this late, he will kill us both!” she whispered back at me.
“Just do it, okay? I know you know something is going on here too. It’s not just a coincidence what happened in your room.” I turned and disappeared into the dark of the night.
What was I doing? What was I thinking, involving sweet, innocent Abigail in all of this? If she didn’t show up tonight that would be for the best. I would prefer it. She did not need to be caught up in all of my craziness.
I don’t even know what is going on.
—§—
“Well, did you buy any?” Abigail’s father said from directly behind her. He peered out the door.
“Ahh! Daddy, you scared me. I thought you were on a business call. No. I didn’t—they didn’t have the ones I like.” Abigail snuck under his arm back into the castle.
“Ahh. That’s a shame. I love those Trefoils.” Mr. Li’Ved gripped the door handle. “Abigail.”
She stopped quickly.
“Was there something you wanted to talk to me about at the dinner table?” he asked.
“It’s okay, it can wait,” she lied again. Lies. Lies. Lies. “Why?”
“Oh, it’s nothing. I just thought you wanted to ask me something.” He remained in the doorway about ten feet away. “Everything is okay? Nothing I should be concerned about? Nothing I need to handle?”
“Everything is fine, Daddy.” Abigail walked up to Mr. Li’Ved and kissed him on the cheek.
“Okay. Did you read that book today?” he asked.
“Yes, Daddy! I’m almost done—you can test me later. I promise.” She wasn’t lying this time.
“Okay. Good. Sleep well, princess. I’ve got some more work to handle. I’ll see you in the morning.” He leaned forward and kissed her head.
“Night, Daddy!” Abigail smiled and ran past her father and up the stairs to her bedroom. Just when she was all the way up the stairs, Mr. Li’Ved leaned out and glanced through the tree-studded front yard with a look of suspicion painting his face. Trust was not his strong suit.
—§—
As the clock approached midnight, Abigail paced her room, contemplating whether or not she was going to betray her father’s trust and sneak out, like Rapunzel from her solitary castle guarded by the sleeping dragon.
Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. Should I? I do want to know how he did what he did. But should I? It doesn’t concern me, I helped the guy, and that is that. I was being a good person. It’s not like I like the guy or find him attractive. I mean, he is kind of attractive. No no, Abigail, focus. If you do this, there is no going back. You will have lied to father and that is that. Maybe it will lead nowhere, and it will all be okay? Yeah, it’s all just been a coincidence. Yeah. Okay. Just this once, I’ll humor the guy.
She had made up her mind as she threw on a red fur snow coat. The lower-than-freezing weather was unforgiving at best. She sneaked down the stairs and out the front door the wind hit like a frozen truck. Two steps out the door, Abigail stopped. She could feel that familiar feeling of being watched.
“Beth!” Abigail yelled into the snow, “if that is you, you better stop! You know what will happen if I tell Daddy.”
She pulled up her hood and walked off down the rock driveway.
—§—
This time of year was especially cold for me. Being that there was no electricity in the church, I had to make do with the makeshift fireplace that Uncle Homer had crafted from the dislodged bricks from around the premises. It was a humble fireplace, one that would not heat the entire room but was good enough for just me and him to sit and sleep in front of during the cold winter nights.
I used a lot of the old and flaking wood that used to be pews. The place where people would come to kneel and pray was now the answered prayers
of myself: warmth. Uncle never condoned this method of fire making, but he also didn’t contest it. Especially on nights like this. Just as I was stoking the fire for the night, my watch had reached midnight. Beep Beep. Beep Beep. Beep Beep.
She wasn’t coming. Good. I can figure this out on my own—I didn’t need her.
I am a transient woe.
Creak…
A long creaking noise emerged from the front doors.
“Uncle?”
No response. Normally the old man would crack a joke. Something like, “Who else would it be, dummy?” I sat in silence—I could hear his snoring from the other room, so it couldn’t have been Uncle. I turned to look, fists balled, adrenaline being pumped as fast as my heart could beat. I was prepared for anything. A shadow emerged through the cracking door from the streetlamp that stood outside. Snow and ice came swooping in with the night breeze like a small, white tornado.
I took my stance. Even then, I wasn’t prepared for what came next…
“Ugh, it’s freezing out there!” Abigail came in through the front door. “What are you doing?” she asked as she saw me standing in full defense mode.
“Sorry, I thought you were someone else.” I loosened my grip.
“Who?” She shook off snow from her shoulders and dropped her hood.
“It doesn’t matter. Close the door—you’re letting in all the cold,” I said as my growing fire began to dance wildly in the wind, close to extermination.
Closing the door, she made her way into my life once again.
I am enigmatically ecstatic.
“You’re late,” I spoke as she approached.
“Do you want me to go back?” She stopped and pointed at the door. “Because I can. I don’t even want to be here.”
She was tough.
“It’s fine.” I returned to my fire, placing another log down for fuel.
Abigail joined me, standing close for warmth. “Okay, so what did you want to talk about? You seemed very adamant about everything earlier.”
“This,” I said, reaching into my coat pocket and pulling out the leather-bound journal I had fought so hard to keep from her. I had never shown this to anyone. This girl was making me do so much lately that I had never done or felt before.