'Till Death Do Us Part.

Chapter Four: Mysterious Meaning

It all happened one morning when I woke up to my phone ringing violently against the hook. Without opening my eyes, I rolled to slide it off the charger.

"Ello?" I mumbled groggily, peeking at the alarm clock beside my bed. The red letters shone 7:38 a.m. angrily, and I groaned. I still had an hour and a half before it would screech and rattle my bedside table.

"K," Darrell's favorite nickname for me made a small smile help forget the anger I had for my rude awakening.

"D," I replied back, wiping the sleep from my eyes.

"Hey, I was wondering if you'd want to meet Jakob today? I know Sunday is your only day off, but I figured we could introduce each other and then you and I could go do something fun?"

"Wha-yeaah, swounds grewaaet," I said through a huge yawn. 

Sooner than I knew, I was on the steps of Esther's front porch, wearing my best roper jeans and my nicest blouse. I had to admit, I was nervous. I wasn't sure why, maybe the fact that Darrell absolutely adored his little brother. All I knew was that I was desperate to make a good impression. 

--

Jakob was a small eleven year-old boy. He had shaggy, black hair, (like his dreamy brother) and piercing gray-blue eyes behind his dark-rimmed glasses. He had a thick, dark book in his hands and hardly noticed us as we slipped into his dim-lit room. His bedroom was distinctly organized and had a strong essence of hospital cleanliness. The books on the shelves were alphabetized (they were all books on neurology) and the bed was pressed crisply, with no wrinkle out of place. There were no race cars or toy soldiers littering the spotless carpet either. Jakob was sitting comfortably cross-legged in the far, darkest corner of the room. A neat stack of neurology books sat beside him, and he was so intent on the thick volume of Everything You Need To Know About Becoming a Neurosurgeon, that Darrell had to call his names four times before he looked up. Jakob sniffed, throwing us a confused look. Darrell knelt down beside him, tugging the book from his small fingers. His eyes kept straying back to the book, and I couldn't help but notice how petite he was.

"Jakob, this is my friend Korae."

Jakob averted his cloudy eyes, and I could barely see him start rocking over Darrell's shoulder. 

"Don't worry, she's very nice," he spoke in a slow, calm voice and Jakob pulled the hood over his hoodie over his head. He wrapped his bony arms around his torso and rocked, slowly meeting my curious gaze. I glanced at Darrell in confusion, raising my eyebrows in question. He nodded to me, a reassuring smile played across his lips and I spoke,

"Hey there Jakob." I tried to keep my tone as soft as possible. Jakob shuddered for a few moments before replying in a small, tight voice,

"Hi."

------

Later on that week, we had taken Jakob into town with us, Darrell had explained after Jakob's and my meeting, that Jakob had high functioning autism. He seemed mostly normal to me, but after an eventful lunch at a local Chinese restaurant, I thought differently. As soon as we stepped inside, Jakob pulled the hood of his favorite jacket over his shiny black hair. He grew extremely silent, which was strange due to the fact he had chattered animatedly the whole ride to town, the boy was a serious genius, and I never knew so much about brain chemistry before the car ride from Anton to Lubbock. 

Jakob crinkled his small, pointed nose and drew back from us on the walk to our table. Darrell reached out to beckon him forward and he gave a terrified shriek. He immediately began to pace in large circles around the table we set down at and refused to speak. We quickly finished our food while he hid behind Darrell and left. I bought him a hamburger on the ride home and he seemed to relax. I felt bad for the kid. 

A few hours later, I helped Darrell tuck him into bed. 

I sat next to him on his blue quilt, and he studied me with careful gray-blue eyes.

"What's wrong?" I asked him, and Darrell turned to look at us from the closet, where he had been hanging up Jakob's shirts.

Jakob sniffed and sat up. 

"Nothing, you just remind me of a girl I read about," He said in his matter-of-fact voice.

"Who?" I asked, sneaking another look at Darrell, who had resumed his chore.

"Persephone."

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