Sensing Serafina

by Elisa Ellis

  “What? You don’t think I’m at enough disadvantage as it is?” I ask, joking back.

  “Not from what you’ve been over there mouthing while the rest of us have played. But it’s all good. I could beat you with my eyes closed,” Ray says, chuckling.

  “You’re a fucking dick. Shut the hell up and watch and learn,” I say, gathering a little confidence.

  I lean over the table and line my cue stick up, excited to participate even though this will be interesting. Sliding the cue stick between my fingers, I shoot the ball directly to the middle hard and hear the familiar sound of the balls breaking. I’m certainly no professional, but I’ve always enjoyed a good game as well as a little hustling here and there.

  I can hear several balls hit the pockets, and obviously Ray has to tell me where the solids and stripes are, but I manage to play a relatively decent match while using his eyes and directions. I really don’t give a shit about winning anymore anyway. It just feels so good to be out, experiencing the sounds and smells of life, something I’ve been missing without realizing it. Ray is a good guy. I’m thankful to have a friend who I can trust. Maybe this is something I will do more often, a little normalcy within reach.

  The next day, I ask mom take me to a gym. Now that I don’t have physical therapy, I haven’t really done enough to stay fit, and after going out last night, I think this will help me. I used to work out all the time at the garage where I worked. They had a pull-up bar and a free-weight set we could use when we weren’t busy or after hours.

  The gym is at the college. I don’t relish the idea of working out alongside other students, but it’s free, and I’m not exactly rolling in money. My mom has been trying to get me to talk to a lawyer about the accident because she thinks we could win a case against the man who hit me, but I’m not holding my breath. I’ve lived without money this long. Quite frankly, I’m not even sure what I would do with extra money anyway. It just reminds me of before.

  Apparently Sunday is a busy day at the gym, which is irritating, but there is a guy who works here named Trey who helps me immediately. After giving him my information, he takes me around to tour the room. It is a seemingly large room, but I don’t think this gym is huge compared to most. I think I can handle the machine weights and some of the cardio machines without too much help, so Trey leaves me to work on my upper body, telling me to raise my hand when I’m ready to move to another spot so that he can come guide me. I appreciate his willingness to help and especially his giving me the freedom to do this on my own. He acts like I’m not even different, which is cool.

  I really love the burn in my muscles as they stretch, pull, and lift, ultimately damaging them so they can grow bigger and stronger. Embracing the pain, I push myself as far as I can go. I strive for the distraction, but my mind still wanders. Counting, working four sets of twenty while increasing the weights each time, I try hard to focus on my breathing. Inhaling, exhaling. But when I think about how it all works, what it takes to reach my goal, I think about my life. I wonder if my life had to be damaged in order to grow. Is there a reason the accident happened to me? That my beautiful light is gone?

  Dammit.

  There could never be a good enough reason for such a loss. Maybe I can grow, learn to cope and even eventually feel something other than the intense pain, but she can’t. Her life was taken. Unfair and too soon.

  I hate this life without her; a tear quietly escapes but I can’t release more. A torrential downpour of emotion dammed inside, building, breaking away and corroding my heart, prevents healing, but I can’t allow it to happen yet. Guilt still consumes me and holds my thoughts captive most of the time.

  The time passes without my knowledge, and I realize I have completed two exercises each for biceps, triceps, back, chest, and shoulders. Sweat proves my tough workout, but I think my mind was challenged more. My soul continues to search for truth, reason, light in this overwhelming darkness.

  I wait with my hand raised just a little because it feels stupid to lift it any higher. I wish there was a better way to get Trey’s attention.

  “Can I help you?”

  The voice, obviously not Trey’s, sounds sweet but sort of quiet. I don’t answer right away, waiting for confirmation she is talking to me. In a way, I hope she’s not because it’s embarrassing, but another part of me likes her voice and wants to hear it again. Guilt merges with curiosity.

  “Sir, I can help you if you need it. I work here.”

  Looking in her direction, I feel my lips form a small smile. “Yeah, um, Trey was supposed to come over after I finished my workout.”

  “Oh, well, Trey had to go on break. I’m sorry.” She sounds unsure, and I hate being viewed as fragile, or maybe she just doesn’t know how to deal with someone like me.

  “No worries. Thanks. Could you just guide me to the locker room? I think I’m done for today,” I tell her, thinking I’ll have to figure out where my stuff is in the locker room by myself.

  “Sure,” she says, a smile evident in her voice. She takes my hand and slowly guides me to a door.

  I nod at her, silently thanking her, adding, “See ya around.” I chuckle at my own joke, but all I hear is her say, “Oh, yeah, no problem. See ya.”

  And I smile as I feel for my locker having remembered the risen number 49 over it. I’m definitely not looking for a relationship, but maybe having a few more friends would be ok. It’s not like I have anything to lose.

  Before

  Sera is my first girlfriend; that is, she is my first friend who is a girl. Working at the shop with a bunch of guys, I’ve never really had much opportunity to hang around girls. At school, I sit in the back of most of my classes keeping to myself, getting through it. It’s weird because I’m not exactly introverted. I just don’t have anything to say to them. They don’t interest me. I feel separate from kids my age, like I had to grow up too fast, in some ways at least. Their petty problems are irrelevant. I’m looking ahead. At what? I don’t know. But it has to be better than what I’ve had here.

  Until Sera.

  After the ordeal at the party, I thought I would be able to continue to stay in my own world at school, but talk crowded me. One of my friends from the shop, Luke, showed me the video of my fight. He thought it was hilarious, but I don’t want to think about it. I just want to move on, with my girl. Hopefully, it will die down soon enough, but I don’t want our next date to be anywhere where the immature assholes around here could interrupt us.

  She jumps on my bike with me after school on a Thursday, and we head to the park where we first hung out. The huge tree waits for us, flowers decorating its roots that sprawl out around the base like octopus legs. This tree has to be a hundred years old, and I wonder what it has endured in its life. What it has seen. It exudes wisdom and strength, a good and beautiful foundation that is a perfect backdrop for our time together.

  Even though we have been together for a couple of months, our relationship is still new and fresh. Playful. Sera picks a dandelion and blows it, spreading seed as it’s carried into the wind. I notice she closes her eyes before blowing it.

  “What did you wish for?” I ask her, enjoying her youthful innocence.

  “I can’t tell you if I want it to come true,” she answers, smiling.

  “Hmmm, maybe I could guess then.”

  She shrugs her shoulders and looks down at the grass where she’s sitting. “Maybe…” She looks up at me under her eyelashes and I just want to consume her. She is so incredibly beautiful. But I stifle that thought and continue our banter.

  “Ok. I bet you wished for a new puppy.”

  “Nope, it’s way better than that,” she laughs, enjoying our little game.

  “Ummm, how about a million dollars?”

  “Definitely better than that!”

  “Must be good then. Hmmmm. I know. You wished for a trip around the world.”

  “Oooh, that would be awesome, but no. That’s not it.”

  We are sitting with our
legs crossed facing each other. She is shy and playful, and I watch her, loving the way her mouth moves when she talks, when she smiles. And the way her eyes communicate what her heart feels. She is lovely and pure. Drawn to her, I raise up on my knees and move towards her.

  “Come here,” I say quietly, hoping she feels as connected as I do. She moves toward me a little, but seems nervous. I don’t know why. We’ve kissed before. But this moment seems special.

  “Closer,” I urge. She’s playing with me, and it’s hot. Tantalizing, she pulls me in, and I slowly take her hand to kiss it. She shudders. I know she feels this too. I lift her chin.

  “Look at me.” Her eyes meet mine, and I’m lost. In hers.

  I lower my head towards hers, kissing her softly on her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, before finally finding her mouth. It’s a promise, captivating and moving. And she reciprocates, her hand on my face wrapping around behind my head and bringing me closer. Our bodies are still separate, but our faces touch as we hold each other. It is the most sensual, intense moment, speaking without words what we already mean to each other.

  “You guessed it,” she says, grinning. I think I’ve won the lottery because she is definitely my dream come true, everything I could ever wish for. I squeeze her hand, and we sit together until dark, simply enjoying our time together, learning as much as we can about each other, while trying to catch up to our feelings. A few more kisses sprinkled in throughout the sweet evening, the magic remains. In the air, and all around. It becomes a part of who we are and I pray it will sustain me every moment we are apart. I can’t wait to graduate so we can live our dreams. Together.

  My spirit wants more, and I don’t want to drop her off at her house, but it’s getting late. The porch light is on when I walk her to her door.

  “I can’t wait to see you tomorrow,” she says, smiling.

  “Me, too. I had fun tonight. You mean a lot to me, Sera.” I stop myself even though there is so much more I want to tell her. It’s too soon. She may be ready to hear it, but it’s just not the right time yet. The time will come soon, though, and I can’t wait.

  I kiss her gently on her gorgeous lips and pull away after only a second when the porch light flickers, apparently her sign to come in. She frowns; “I’ve got to go… Bye.” She lingers a minute before opening the door behind her, slipping in while I silently watch her until the door closes. “Bye, baby,” I whisper, touching the door before I retreat back to my bike. And back to my side of the world.

  Chapter 11

  Now

  Because balsa wood is soft, we are carving it for our second sculpture project in art. My last project turned out really well. The texture feels smooth and glossy after Mr. Kenan baked it in the kiln. Very abstract, it’s an angel looking up, wings spread wide. The face is smooth, and her posture reflects one who looks towards heaven, illuminating love. I’m pretty sure Mr. Kenan was impressed even if his comments were minimal. Everyone else in the class definitely liked it, offering a lot of praise.

  I’ve continued to keep quiet about my work, though it’s nice to hear the admiration among the voices of my peers. Obviously, I can only feel what it looks like, but I think it definitely conveys my theme.

  I like carving into the balsa wood because it is easy, but I would choose a harder wood, maybe oak, for future sculptures. I don’t want this one to break or become scarred. This class is primarily comprised of beginners, though, so it makes sense to start with something we can all do.

  When I reach for my X-Acto knife, Ray chuckles.

  “What?” I question him.

  “Oh nothing, man. Just thinking it will be fun to watch you sculpt with a freakin’ X-Acto knife. I’ll keep a first aid kit handy for ya,” he teases.

  “Always the asshole, aren’t you? I’m betting you will need the first aid kit before I will, especially when I throw my X-Acto knife at you. I’ll pretend it’s the game of darts we didn’t get to play.”

  “Chill out, dude. I’m joking.”

  “So am I,” I say, but continuing to keep a straight face just for fun. My dry sense of humor may entertain me more than it does others.

  We had a choice of the size of our carving block, so I picked one that is 6” x 12”. I want to create details using imperfect, chunky marks, a “beauty out of chaos” kind of concept. The large wings will fold downward on this one, and her head will be looking down and to the side while she sits on her knees, feet tucked delicately underneath her. The backs of the wings will look as though they are reflecting the light of heaven, or at least I hope I can accomplish what I envision. Thankfully, we have four weeks to finish because I plan to take my time. I have to get it right.

  Not having the ability to drive myself anywhere sucks ass. I hate being cooped up in the apartment. Mom works two jobs so she isn’t here half the time, and I don’t like asking for help. The bus stops near our apartment, so I’ve decided to try it for the first time today. I don’t have anywhere I have to be, but my mind needs a break. I want to feel fresh air. To feel life, this stagnant apartment suffocating me.

  Using the cane is still a challenge. When I had physical therapy, I was taught basic skills, such as holding the cane waist-high and moving only my wrist as I swipe side-to-side in front of my steps. The therapist explained that the wrist is more sensitive to feeling variations on the ground than if I move my arm. They had me try it both ways so that I could feel the difference, which I appreciated because I always want to know why about everything. Frustrating that I’ll never know why this happened to me.

  Heading down the stairs from our upstairs apartment has become easier, although I have to hold my cane in my left hand since I hold the railing with my right hand to guide me. The smell of rain saturates the cool air, yet the sound of drops is absent. I can feel the cool prickle of fog hit my face with each step as I walk in this low cloud. It’s refreshing and inviting.

  I sweep my cane back and forth in front of me while holding my left hand out ahead of my face just in case there is something the cane can’t detect. Hopefully, I will become more accustomed to walking alone and navigating the cane relatively soon so that I will at least appear more confident even if I still struggle with the whole overall concept. This is one of those times I am thankful for having had sight prior to the accident. I know the area, the parking lot directly in front of the cold metal and concrete steps that I just descended, and the road with a bus stop straight ahead. It couldn’t get much easier than that; at least that’s what I’m telling myself as I talk myself through this adventure.

  My left wrist adorns a cheap watch that speaks the time for me. It’s another convenient and helpful gadget, but I never used to wear a watch so I have to get used to it.

  The bus arrives after five minutes. I’m thankful to hear it pull up, the air brakes loud as it comes to a stop in front of me. I don’t remember ever noticing people waiting here for a bus before and have even wondered how many people really used it for transportation. Since I had my motorcycle, I guess I took other people’s needs for granted in that respect. I sure wouldn’t have ever thought I would be sitting here one day boarding a fucking city bus. It’s humbling to say the least.

  Holding the passport card I received in the mail, the driver comes down to assist me. It’s probably obvious I’ve never done this.

  “Hello, sir. Come on up,” she says kindly.

  Nodding to her, I answer briefly, “Thank you.”

  “I don’t remember having seen you before. I’ve been driving this bus for five years now. You new in town?” she asks, since I sit on the nearest seat and am apparently in her conversation zone.

  “No ma’am. Just new to riding the bus.” While I appreciate her help, I don’t want to have to explain so I nod my head downward, holding my cane with both hands in between my legs so as not to be in the way. Unfortunately, she is not deterred.

  “Where ya headed?”

  “Sullivan Park.”

  “Ahhh, that’s a nice park. Older pa
rt of town down on the east side. Needs some work, though. I ain’t been down in a while, but last time we was there, seemed like things was getting’ run down.”

  “I hadn’t noticed,” I say, still keeping my responses minimal.

  “Oh yeah. I used to take my kids there to play and feed the ducks. Them geese, they don’t let the ducks eat. One of ‘em chased my son a ways but it didn’t take long for that goose to realize my son wasn’t gonna take no scarin’. He threw his hands up and started yellin’ while chasin’ that goose right back on into the water. Funniest thing I ever seen.” I nod but before I can even say anything, she’s already talking again.

  “Yep. Had some good times. So, what you gonna do down there? You meetin’ someone?”

  “No ma’am.”

  “You going down there all alone? Boy, you best be careful around all those holes and the water and ere’thing. Ain’t no rails ‘long that bridge neither,” she cautions me.

  “Thank you. I’ll steer clear of the bridge.” I can’t help but smile a little at the ridiculousness of the whole scenario. She takes that as encouragement to continue the conversation and I’m wondering how much further it could possibly be. I know it’s about fifteen minutes away; surely it’s been that long.

  “You know, I got a cousin who’s blind. My aunt’s been taking care of him all his life.”

  I’m sitting here thinking, Cool story. Don’t know what I’m supposed to say to that. I sure hope this isn’t going to be a common situation. Why do people think I want to talk? Makes me want to say something like, “Oh really? I’ve got a cousin who drives a bus.” Who fucking cares?

  Trying to keep my sarcastic responses to myself, I’m very glad when the bus slows and she lets me know we have arrived at the park. Maybe this was all just some sort of weird way of forcing me to move faster because I’m down the two steps and walking away from the bus before she has a chance to give me more advice. I do hear her yell after me, “See you next time. The lake is straight ahead of you.” I keep walking and raise my hand up in a small wave. Sheesh.