The Storms Of August

Chapter Five: As Long As You Stay

I tossed my dull pencil onto the busy pad of notebook paper before me and hung my head in my hands, defeated. Exhaustion has been poking at the corners of my eyes for some time now, but I've done my best in wiping them away with my fingers and pressing forward with my work. Speaking of work, it should have been done hours ago, but I keep getting preoccupied. Daydreams whizzed past my head like whips in the sky as dusk fell upon the horizon. Every single one of them had something to do with her, of course. She was already clouding my thoughts by then, and I doubt it started as a conscious act. That's how it always starts. Bad things always begin as childish, innocent toy ideas in the back of your mind. Little do you know little by little their picking at the scabs that others left behind to reach the front and slowing begin to seep into your words and actions like gasoline. Then BAM! Chucky is running around your life and dropping matches on all those little mistakes with drops of fuel. Pick, pick, pick, tick, tick, tick, the clock was running short from the beginning.

The work I had taken my lolly damn time on was for school, algebra to be specific. Math is the only subject I've been somewhat successful at during my high school career, and there is no acception to this rule. When I say that, I mean I got a D+ in physical education. This is the subject where you are right or you are wrong. There is no matter of opinion or point of view with numbers and formulas, therefore all gray areas, my weak spot, are nonexistent.

The digital alarm clock on my night stand read 12:30 AM, but it felt like three. I still had two more problems left, not much for me on a normal day but tonight my focus is on other equations and I keep writing the wrong one on paper. I groan and put my forehead against the cool, aged cedar desk and closed my eyes. Instantly, the smooth sound of honey dripped from her tongue like raindrops off a leaf after a midday shower. Just distant, a call for me to come home came from the back porch of my house after a long day of running up and down the streets like if I slowed down the Devil would have me. The sun was still in the sky but night was surly coming soon. I made rockets of my feet, pumping down Crescent street with the wind carrying me down the sandy road and back to my home. The call was repeated and I went into overdrive. I ran through the heat and pain of the muscles of my little legs and the sourness at the balls of my feet to get back before the moon caught my heels. When I got to the bend in the road, I hit the breaks and quickly accelerated again toward the white house with the flowers. When I got there, my mother was not in her robe or a sharp looking blouse and a pencil skirt. She did not have her glass of red wine elegantly held in the air as if to toast to my existence. In fact, she was not there at all. The porch was completely empty but the screen door was open so I assumed she had run off to check on supper. I walked closer, careful not to step on a crack in the narrow driveway as I crept my way forward with caution. Suddenly I hear the lighthearted footsteps prancing through the hallway of the house and I rush forward, ready to welcome my mother's return, but she does not show: Demi walks out of the house and finds me on the other end of the wooden deck. I am no longer six years old, but who I am now, watching the beautiful girl's eyes sparkle against the warm light of the end of day and the signature smile creep upon her face. "Come home," she repeated with her arms reaching out to me, "let me see my one and only sunshine". I began rushing to her, hot sneakers bounding quickly across the boards beneath them as she prepared for my warm embrace. I was in between her arms, creeping vines eager to touch my skin, waiting to feel the sweet release of a postponed breath but never received it, for the sound of gravel crashing at our feet.

I awoke with an alertness inappropriate at quarter past one in the morning. I looked around my illuminated room and found that I was alone. Sighing, I returned to the ever present assignment but caught the pencil by surprise and watched it jump to the floor. I bent over slowly, stiff as a corpse, trying desperately to get the utensil within my grasp without sinking to its level. However, something caught my eye a few feet further away from it. I stood and stared at the object while completely mystified as to its presence. Kneeling, I lifted the hunk of pavement to my eyes and examined it as if an alien had planted it there as bait for my capture. It was nothing special, just old, broken and sitting pretty in my bedroom. I held the golf ball sized hunk of rock and looked around, accusing inanimate objects of wrongdoing for a few moments before a clue came along. From the open window, a light tap, tap, tap of the glass rang out quietly. I opened it further and stuck my head into the chilly air and pitch black of night. Thankfully, the moon gave the light necessary and I adjusted accordingly. Crickets could be heard like a choir in a church as I looked around the dark night outside. The roof before me appeared empty and I almost dipped my head back into the pool of light in my room. However, on my way back the dull glow of a cigarette caught my eye.