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“I was with John Gillis, that’s why
I’m late,” I explained to the secretary.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Shuro Morrison,” she smiled as she sifted
through sheets of papers. “Welcome back, young man.”
I didn’t quite know what to say to that so I mustered out a “thanks.”
She passed me a slip over the desk with freshly manicured nails. “Look
at that, first day back and you’ve already earned yourself a detention.”
I snatched the sheet. It read out a time and location of where to go for
my punishment. “What? I just told you, I was with John Gillis.”
“I highly doubt that. Please don’t start a fight with me now. Just get
to class.”
“No! I won’t leave until you call him and see that I’m telling the
truth.”
She eyed me up suspiciously for a few seconds before sighing and taking
the paper back from me. “Get to class.”
I gave her a grim glare as I left the office without another word.
It was my first day back at St. Benedict’s, but everyone else was
already two months in to the semester. St. Benedict’s school for boys
was nothing less than a castle with a modern twist. It was larger that
most college campuses, with numerous different buildings all spread out
across a vast plot of land. The stone walls of the school were grey, and
tall windows were embedded in them like stars in the night sky. The
roofs of the various buildings went to points at the top, much like old
turrets.
In no way did I miss going there, for as I walked through it’s old giant
hallways I was reminded of all the spoiled children rushing through,
babbling about their marks or gossiping about other students. Everything
about school made me sick, except for the learning part. School was so
overrated… especially St. Benedict’s.
The day went by slowly; I caught up on most of the work I had missed,
the teachers worked me to the bone because they knew I could handle it.
I almost always got flawless grades, and everyone wondered how I did it.
The students worked hard to maintain their spot on the St. Benedict’s
honor list, and it came to me effortlessly. In fact a few years back I
was pushed in to being on the school’s mathletes team by a fellow
classmate. That year our school won.
By the time the last bell rang I had a stack of papers weighing over a
ton that I had shoved at the bottom of my locker. I was supposed to
bring them home to work on that night but I could care less. It was bad
enough my entire day consisted of nothing but school and school work; I
wasn’t about to bring that home with me too.
John had told me to meet him after school, so I had planned on making my
way there right away. Only I couldn’t. While traversing the school lot
of open fields of grass and pathways, I was abruptly stopped by a fleet
of girls exuding uncanny friendliness.
“Welcome back!” One of them said.
I tried to keep walking but they only followed me. I didn’t say anything
to them. To be honest, their mannerisms were freaking me out.
“Don’t walk so fast, we want to talk to you!” One of them actually
tugged my arm and it made me turn to face them. What the hell could they
possibly want to talk with me about?
“What?” I spat.
“See, Casey here has never been kissed,” a blonde one started. “She
wants to---”
“No!” Another girl slapped a hand over the blonde’s mouth to shut her
up.
The whole group was laughing.
I just glared at them like they were insane kids on ecstasy… which they
probably were.
“Look, I know you’ve been with that jock Emmanuel. If you have to lie to
get a guy to kiss you that’s pretty fucking sad,” I shook my head.
They all looked at me with astounded faces. One laughed.
I turned and headed across the terrace as they screamed out words of
condemnation behind me.
The day was breaking as John and I walked up to the front door of his
loft after a long day.
“Oh, by the way, Emera should be home by now,” John glanced at his
watch. He opened the front door to the place and sure enough, Emera came
down the stairs to greet us with a wide grin. She embraced John first
with a warm hug and kiss, then me.
“So did you have fun?” John asked. “I hope the motel wasn’t too shabby,
that’s all I can say.”
We walked more inside and Emera told us all about the weekend.
Before she was finished her story she said “Oh! And I have something for
the two of you.”
She dug through some bags and got out a t-shirt for John, with a New
York logo on it. Then she passed me something wrapped in brown paper. I
was shocked she even brought me back anything at all. I wasn’t expecting
any gifts. I almost didn’t want to open it because I wasn’t sure if it
was really for me or not. Beneath the brown paper emerged a funny little
figure of an odd creature holding a stone with a strange symbol on it.
He was made up entirely of jade. I examined the figure, and the more I
did so the more he seemed to come to life.
“It means strength,” I heard Emera say softly.
I swallowed, not knowing what to say. This was the first time I had
received a gift from someone in a few years, and I could not express the
gratitude I was feeling. She had actually thought of me while up there
in the wilderness.
“Thanks, Emera,” was all I uttered out, though I was thinking a thousand
other things.
She just smiled sweetly, as if she gave gifts like this away everyday.
• • •
The days passed by quickly, and before I knew it John and Emera were
packing up dull grey suitcases with clothes and other belongings to
bring with them to Paris. I watched from the door the night before their
trip as Emera squeezed a pink case filled with toiletries in one corner
of her suitcase. She was mumbling out loud to no one in particular about
where she put the mini tubes of toothpaste.
I couldn’t sleep that night. The trip was all that was on my mind. I
wished more than anything that John would magically whip out just one
extra ticket to Paris from behind his back. I didn’t want to stay here
in boring old Chicago with Rafael and his copper truck. It was bad
enough I stayed at his place for a whole day already. The minute I got
there I was already aching to leave. But two weeks? There’s no saying
what’s going to happen.
• • •
Airports are like giant space stations. They have always reminded me of
something out of a sci-fi movie, don’t ask me why. They remind me that
we’re in the twenty-first century. John always says the fact that
something that weighs up to 153 000 pounds can get off the ground still
amazes him.
The fact is that flying scares the crap out of me, and I don’t scare
easily. I’ve only been on a plane once or twice, but each time I go up
there my mind instantly fabricates things out of horror movies. I fear
my ears won’t ‘pop’ back, I fear the plane’s engine runs out of fuel and
crashes miserably into the bottom of the dark black ocean, and plenty of
other horrible things I would rather not discuss.
The last time I was on a plane was about five years ago. I was
travelling with Ron for one of his business trips. We were headed to Las
Vegas so he could meet with an important boss of an oil company who was
willing to give my father a job.
The minute we stepped off the secure platform and on to the plane I knew
I was going to be sick. My nerves did not calm when we sat down. We
hadn’t even taken off yet and I was already having a panic attack.
“What are you doing? Stop fidgeting!” Ron spat at me as he turned the
page of the newspaper he had picked up inside the airport.
“I’m not,” though I was aware I was. My palms were dripping with sweat
and I kept wiping them on my jeans to get them dry. My stomach was
turning as if it were a cage preventing fluttering butterflies from
escaping. I couldn’t get comfortable.
Ron vigorously reached over and gripped my hand in his so quick I didn't
have time to think. He twisted my wrist uncomfortably so that my palm
faced up. “What is this? Look at your hand...”
Even though I had tried to dry them they were still soaking wet.
“You’re actually afraid of flying?” Ron flashed me a mocking grin.
“You’re a little pussy.”
I didn’t say anything. After he let go of my hand I just continued to
rub them together agitatedly.
“Would you like me to sit by the window?” His voice was so false, so
menacing, it made me even more uneasy. He was holding back a cynical
chuckle.
“No,” I said, even though there was nothing I wanted more at the time. I
wanted to prove to him I wasn’t afraid. If he knew I was he would only
torment me the whole trip. “I’m fine.”
The stewardess must have noticed the commotion in our row so she came
over quickly before the seatbelt light came on.
“Is everything alright?” She asked politely.
“No,” I didn’t even let her finish her question.
Ron sneered. “He’s afraid of flying.”
“I’m just---”
“Oh, sweetie. It’s okay. After the plane takes off I’ll get you
something nice to eat so you can enjoy your flight with something in
your tummy. Alright?” She smiled sweetly. “In the meantime, I find it
easier to take deep breaths in, like this.”
She demonstrated the proper breathing techniques for panicking.
I just nodded but thought it would be too foolish if I mimicked her.
“You don’t look well, sweetie. Have you taken something for the motion
sickness yet?” She looked at Ron as if he would have given me something.
I almost scoffed. Instead I just shook my head.
“I will be right back.”
And she was, with a tiny circular white pill and some water.
“Is my son the reason the flight hasn’t taken off yet?” Ron’s words were
rigid.
“It isn’t a problem at all, sir. This happens all the time.” The
stewardess must have noticed Ron’s harsh tone.
“Well I’ll make sure that there are no more delays.” Ron snatched the
glass of water from my hand after I swallowed down the pill and shoved
it back in the stewardess’ hands.
She seemed stunned. “Thank you, sir, but really, there is no trouble.”
And it wasn’t long before Ron was up in my face scourging me and the
plane began to takeoff. I still remember the nerves running through my
body as the plane trembled all around me. All I saw was my father’s face
inches away from mine. I still remember what he said.
“I’ll throw you off this plane myself if I have to!”
Five years ago. Five. It seemed like yesterday to me.
But now was not the time to reminisce. John was at his gate, ready to
depart for two weeks. Rafael had driven us to the airport in his truck,
and he now stood beside his sister, wishing her a safe trip with a hug
and kiss. I was engulfed in Emera’s arms before I knew it, and she was
telling me something about Rafael’s cooking but I wasn’t really paying
attention. Not only was my stomach turning at the sight of the planes
outside the windows, but it was also turning because of my fear of being
alone after everything was over. It was turning just knowing that John
wouldn’t be at his cozy loft when I wanted to see him, or even in the
United States at all for that matter.
A woman’s voice echoed throughout the airport, informing people of a
departing flight. It might have been John’s. I wasn’t paying any real
attention to what was going on, so when John came and stood in front of
me all I saw was his belt buckle. He gently turned my chin up with his
fingers to look at him.
“Two weeks isn’t that long, right?” He said in a reassuring voice.
Emera and Rafael were talking amongst themselves to the left of us.
“John…” My voice was trembling and I didn’t know why. “I don’t want you
to go.”
John gave a small sigh. “I have to, Shuro. You know that. You’re going
to have a great time with Rafael. Besides, we’ll be back before you know
it.”
John buried me in his arms, his warmth soothing to my nerves.
“I’ll miss you,” I said, muffled behind his sleeve.
“I’ll miss you too, bud.”
“Come on, sweetie, our gate is about to close!” Emera called to John.
They waved to us from the gate.
A wave. A fluttering sign or signal made with the hand. Just a gesture,
but the kind of gesture that can mean a thousand words. The end or the
beginning of something.
A casual hello or a simple goodbye.
Goodbye… |
