Polymath

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

          I sat in my car in my driveway. My courage didn't muster until early, early this morning to drive back down the interstate. Eighty miles straight through. Still took me thirty minutes. I was holding my charger cord angrily in my left hand. Furious at myself, nevertheless. I had sat in my car for hours, unsure of what to do. My phone was dead, so what could I do.
          Um, you stupid head, your charger was in the glove box the whole time. I sat alone on the end passageway of interstate twenty-seven without realizing I had a charger with me.
          I got out of the Volkswagen and trudged groggily through my yard and up my tiny set of wooden stairs, tripping at the top step. It was so very welcome when my chin hit the rubber mat I placed in front of the door. One of the greatest investments I made, that trusty rubber mat. I picked myself up from the stairs and shuffled the rest of the way into my tiny living room.
          Lemons were on my mind. All throughout high school and college, I sucked on lemon slices to keep myself awake. Well, actually, lemons were like water to me. They were at least three slices in every glass of water I've ever drank, but I didn't like lemonade. The only reason there was a pitcher of the stuff in my refrigerator was for Hancock. He drank it as much as I sucked on lemons, which happened to be almost three times a day.
          I hadn't sucked on a lemon since the last day of college, though. That was two years ago. Everything happened two years ago. Real life hit, I guess.
          The kitchen was warm and inviting when I walked in, and I knew exactly where the lemons were. They'd been there for a while, maybe a couple months, sitting in the back of my refrigerator in a little glass bowl. I grabbed the bowl and took it to the counter. It definitely belonged there. I cut one into sixths. The little yellow slices were smiling up at me.
          Grabbing one and placing it in between my teeth was so familiar. I bit down, and the juice popped from the flimsy skin, greeting my cheeks and tongue and throat like an old friend's hug. I remembered myself standing face-to-face with Freddie, when he was still living of course, at high school graduation. He embraced me so tight, and I took that for granted. He and I were never close, and that day he made me feel as if I've known him my whole life, and I brushed it off as if it was a simple goodbye.
          I took every single thing for granted, and I made a mule of myself for it. I bit down hard, feeling my teeth between the skin. Every last trickle of juice, every last ounce of my being went down on that lemon.
          I ripped it from my mouth with great literacy and looked down at it. It was flimsy and empty, the skin hanging in all angles left and right and torn to the rind. Without thinking, I made sure all five lemons with all six slices from each looked like that. They were being destroyed, just as I was doing with myself.

          I was lying on my back on my couch listening to the television's dull hum of a voice when Freddie returned. He sat on the arm rest with such ease, resting his translucent elbows on his translucent knees. I didn't feel like talking to him right now, and I believe he understood. There was a paper pad sitting on the television stand, positioned so I could see it, but no blue chicken scratch appeared, and that was okay. My head remained clear; there were no scratchy lines of a migraine. Freddie stayed where he was even when there was a knock on the door, as if he knew I wasn't going to answer it.
          He was wrong. I rolled myself off the couch and noticed blonde hair in the window. It disappeared then. I pulled the cord for the curtains halfway, and they slowly opened from the middle, and stopped when only the middle window was exposed. Hancock stood there, and like he was reenacting a scene from a romance movie, placed his palm flat on my window, and pretended to clutch his heart. I shut the curtains and opened the front door, stepping out onto the porch. I could see Freddie out of the corner of my eye, smiling at me as I shut the front door.
          "Hey, Han," I said. I was uncomfortable, and I didn't like it. He suddenly embraced me as if he hadn't seen me in four years, and it made my whole body tingle. "Hey!"
          He pulled back and leaned against my porch railing. "So, uh, we did talk to Paisley."
          I had completely forgotten about that. "Oh, what'd she say?" I felt around with my elbow for the railing, something that felt like an eternity which became super awkward super quick, but my elbow found the railing finally and I rested against it.
          Hancock seemed to ignore it. "It's her car."
          "How many cars does she have?" Paisley was old and didn't go anywhere.
          "She claims to have four, and since she doesn't feel like driving much, see gets her nephews to switch out her cars so she can look at them."
          "That's stupid." I felt my elbow sliding and I quickly corrected it. Man, why am I so awkward all the time? "She never goes anywhere."
          "She's so shady," Han replied. "Her house is dark and she literally hissed when Jules tried to open the curtains."
          Paisley was just bad news in my opinion. All the family that had been in and out of her house had at least one mark on their criminals. I knew that because I checked. Her three sons, her sister and her brother, their seven children divided, and her kid's wives and their eight kids. Everyone in that family had the appearance of an old person, though the youngest was around my age. Though Paisley is old, I could feel that she would be the next to contribute to the rap sheet.
          "She's bad news." I turned my head and stared down towards her house, which was two down from mine.
          Hancock didn't reply, and the atmosphere exploded in a white and red frenzy of awkward. He seemed solemn to notice, but I was vibrating from the explosion. Stars fell from the sky and the grass was on fire. There was nothing to say. I could feel Freddie staring me down through the door, if that was even possible.
          "We're having another party," Han suddenly said, staring at his shoes. "But it'll only be us and Jules."
          "Do your promise?" I was still pretty upset about the last one. It wasn't high school or college frat anymore. "There can't be any beer."
          "Just lemonade."
          "No!" I shouted, laughing. He knew how much I hated it.
          "And soda, okay." He drew out the 'okay' like the hubba bubba strands in my head. Thin and collecting thoughts like a spider caught flies.
          "I approve."
          Han smiled and ran his hand through his hair. He always did that when he was nervous. Why was he nervous? "Uh, okay, Ford, is tonight, um, okay?"
          He stammered so bad it made me want to grab his tongue and straighten it. "Yeah, that's okay. But, are you okay, Mr. Stammer?"
          "Uh, yeah, I'm okay."
          I reached out and grabbed his arm, lightning bolts shooting from his elbow and crawling up my arm. No, actually, it was more like a fire. "Okay, I'll be there."

          The migraine called Freddie greeted me as I stepped back into the house. My mind went black with the scribbles and I struggled my way to the couch where Freddie was waiting, sprawled out on the chaise.
          "Stop it, Freddie!" I nearly screamed, barely able to hear my own voice over the television and the roar of his voice. My migraine immediately dissipated, but left a throb. "Write on the paper, puhlease."
          'I'm sorry!!! you and hancock were flying high'
          "What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, sitting gingerly beside him. "All we were doing was talking."
          'he wanted to kiss you'
          "Nah."
          'seriously! it's not even a party, redford, he just wants to be near you'
          "Oh, please. I'm not even good girlfriend material. Killian only dated me for three years and broke up with my loops."
          'three years is a long time'
          I shrugged and focused on the television. Freddie crossed the line, but I was too polite to say so. He seemed to notice, and disappeared with a salute. I shriveled up inside, angry and feeling stupid. Why be mad at a boy who no longer exists?
          My phone beeped. It was a text from Hancock that said, '7'.
          Wow, okay. No elaboration wasn't normally his forte, but I didn't care. I glanced over at the digital clock on the stove. It read three fifty-six. It was early still. I got off the couch and went into the kitchen, regretting all the lemon rage I had exploited.
          Lemon peels were scattered around the counter and the knife sat vacant across the sink. I needed more, but there weren't any. I was faced with the decision of craving lemons so bad my mouth watered, or drinking the disgusting lemonade in the refrigerator.
          I drank the lemonade. It was gross, and I kind of threw it back up into the sink unintentionally. Chugging water, my phone started to ring, which I answered and set on the counter. Hancock's voice filled my kitchen, on speaker.
          "Hold on," I managed to choke out, swishing and spitting water everywhere.
          "Are you okay?" Hancock laughed through the phone. "Did you drink lemonade?"
          "Yes," I gasped, coughing. "I needed a lemon and that was all I had."
          "Come on over. We have lemons, okay? They'll be cut up, waiting for you."
          I spit my mouthful of water into the sink and sprayed water from the tap to rinse it down. "Alright, I'll be over in a minute."
          What was I thinking? God, I was sick to my stomach. I walked over to the microwave and stared at my flimsy reflection. Comparing myself to a lemon and a rainbow? Yep, I was definitely a watery mist and a tooth torn flesh fruit.
          Were lemons even a fruit? I don't know. I ran my fingers through my hair unsuccessfully and blew air through my teeth. Aw, forget it. Hancock and Jules didn't care what I looked like.
          But you know you want to look fantabulous for Hannnnnn
          No stop it
          I blinked at myself, repositioning my contacts. Makeup was not an answer to the annoying high school freckles, since I had never worn makeup in my entire life. Might as well just go.
          I grabbed my windbreaker and slipped on my sandals as I walked out the front door. As I walked slowly down the street, Freddie's 'words' bounced around my gum strands, ramming into my skull and shooting back.
          He just wants to spend time with you.
          I had a hard time believing that. I was just an average blonde curly girl with a crooked smile and eyes that barely worked. I had little girl freckles and my eyebrows and eyelashes barely existed they were so blonde. An average Joe, I was.
          The HOLLY car mocked me as I passed by. Paisley was a sly witch, I swore to it. She could've been a vampire, according to the Jefferson account. I mean, who hisses at sunlight? She was strange, and it made my skin crawl.
          I tripped over the little half inch raise of the Jefferson's driveway, but my arms worked for once and I caught myself before my chin suffered another fatal blow. I slowly stood up, picking the tiny gravel pieces out of my raw palms.
          "C'mon, Ford!" Jules hollered from the window. Had he been watching me? Oh, shoot. "Your lemons are faltering."
          "That makes no sense!" I shouted back, trying to hurry up the rest of the long driveway. Jules opened the door for me as I walked onto the porch and ushered me inside.
          "Hey, Ford," Hancock greeted me, raising a whole bottle of soda in the air. When you walk into their house, the floor is split down the middle. The kitchen was on the left, living room on the right. Han was sitting on couch, which faced the living room. The television was on, and I was positive this wasn't a party.
          "I was promised lemons?" I exclaimed, walking into the kitchen. Jules handed me a bowl of the wonderful, sunny slices, and I took them.
          "Go sit down," he told me, grabbing another bowl, this one filled with popcorn. "We're just gonna chill."
          I nodded and slid on the couch with Hancock. He was drinking straight from the bottle he greeted me with, and I was relieved to see Jules bring cups and another soda. There was also a bottle of lemonade tucked under his arm.
          "How many lemons is that?" Han asked, eyeing my bowl. Jules sat in the other side of me.
          "It's five," Jules replied, placing the cups and the bowl of corn on the coffee table. "There are seven more in the refrigerator."
          I smiled at him, thankful he thought of me. Hancock flipped through the channels and Jules handed me a cup of soda. I felt as though I was being catered. The television was broadcasting Animal Planet, and I was surprised it was a documentary about sharks I had yet to watch.
          We settled into the couch and I attacked the lemons with zeal. It was nice to finally feel welcome again, and I hoped it stayed that way.