The Definition of Time

Chapter 11

i can sense the broken
their eyes are fractured in the light
and shadows rest within them
they don't laugh at sorrow
like those who have never lived it
the sad sturdy step
of he who has learned to walk in darkness
i want to ask the fellow broken,
"who did this to you?"
and the whispered names
would become a melancholy symphony.  

April 31, 2014

"I got it!" 

I can hear Jordan's screech the moment she starts thundering down our hallway at 11:43 P.M. I abandon my half-finished bag of popcorn and the five Facebook tabs pulled up on my browser and race to the hallway.

She's waving her iPad in the air, wearing only a pair of gym shorts and a stained tank top, "I got it! I freaking got it!"

We collide and I shake her, "The internship? The internship?"

"Yes," she exclaims, "What else?"

"Well, I was hoping you didn't get syphilis." She rolls her eyes at me. "Seriously, though, Jord, that's incredible!" I hug her quickly and then pull her behind me to our floor's kitchen, "this calls for ice cream. I've been saving this half gallon of Moose Tracks to celebrate you getting accepted. I knew you would."

Jordan's eyes light up, and a few minutes later, our spoons are plunged into a delicious half-gallon of Breyer's. She's telling me about how the director of the internship was impressed by her independent study of Scheltopusiks (legless lizards, from what I can gather). She'll leave in a month when finals are done and work side by side with some of the leading herpetologists in the entire world. Apparently spending a summer hanging out with lizards is a dream come true rather than a nightmare for some people. 

"What did I tell you? You're a genius lizard magician," I praise her while swallowing another heaping spoonful of ice cream. 

"Thanks, Rach. Guess I gotta tell my parents now," she murmurs.

"I guess so," I say, "But it's your call. This is a great opportunity regardless of what's going on with your parents. And now you don't have to go home for the summer."

"Yeah," she answers unconvincingly, eyes cast down.

I touch her shoulder, unsure of how to comfort her in this moment that should bring elation but is instead provoking sorrow. Why is it that everything good is tainted by pain?

May 2, 2014

"Chicken nuggets. Again." I complain under my breath.

Our horrendous cafeteria has served chicken nuggets and tater tots for about two weeks straight, and while I never thought I would complain about eating too much fried food, I could live the rest of my life without eating another deep-fried chicken nugget.

I put a handful of them on my plate--they're still a better alternative than spinach salad--and take my tray and glass of lemonade towards the caf seating. I set myself up in a booth, planning to read my World Lit textbook as a distraction from the chicken nuggets. I pull out my matching highlighter set and cross my legs, contemplating how socially unacceptable it would be to bring a Snuggie to the cafeteria. Time to read some Homer. 

I'm so engrossed in The Iliad that I don't notice Josh approaching until he plops his tray onto the table, "Hey, Rach. Can I join you?"

I look up in surprise, pulling the highlighter from the corner of my mouth and hoping I haven't stained half of my face neon pink, "Oh, hey, Josh."

He sits across from me, and I push my textbook and notes out of the way. I take him in with a smile. I've missed him. I always miss him, even if only a few days pass. Today, however, he looks different.