Short Stories II

Obsolete's Effect

Sometimes, if not all of the time, Lea ended up feeling like the world had fell from between her fingers, pooling far beneath her feet into its own vast sea. The indulgence of late autumn leaves, that were once tangible to her senses, instead became something that s to be located a million miles below where the pavement was laid. Sometimes, it felt as though her fingers were merely brisking the atmosphere of the furniture she ran her hands along, leaving no indication that she'd been there at all. The aptitude that her mind had for high flying in the skies was unbelievably excellent, so this feeling, this sensation she was experiencing, should not come to a surprise to her at this point. But regardless, it still did.
    Lea was the name given to her at birth by her chronically cocaine addicted mother, Obsolete. The question of who or what exactly gave her such a terrible name was one that should not be asked, because by all means, Lea was completely unaware. Distraught was the one word that Lea felt could easily explain all of the sensations Obsolete felt upon her birth. Distraught, fear, and... guilt. Guilt over the fact that she'd bore a child into the world knowing very well that this child would be left uncared for. Lea would end up personally scarred, with incurable wounds, from the hands of the very women who brought into this life in the first place; and Obsolete could not help but feel immensely guilty for that. The tools she needed to be at her disposal in order to produce a wondrous and daring childhood for dear Lea was a mystery, and quickly became a void that could not be filled no matter how much she tried to. In turn, tools became weapons, and weapons dug great holes into Lea's heart for the first fourteen years of her life. Words, actions, behaviors, betrayals, all dug deeper and deeper into little Lea's body.
Her soft, chubby baby fat was carved off of her at a young age, and instead was replaced by a hard wooden casket that she'd have to wear instead. Not only did she need this wooden shield for her own vital organs, but for her Mother's to, of which she'd lost protection of at a young age as well. Now her Mother's plank of protection was shredded and raw, pricking the slightest touch with it's twisted edges. Her Mother required the protection of her daughter, a reverse dynamic that should not have occured.
Lea did not come to know her father. For all that she knew, he was of some race other than white, likely a light coloration of Haitian or Jamaican. That would explain the fluffy brunette tendrils of kink draping from her scalp, and the naturally apple-smooth glisten of her plump lips. Lea bore bright blue eyes, the type that one would only see the wafting sea in, and her skin was a soft mocha color that bore the same shade as powdered cocoa. Lips chafted with dried skin, and fingers overgrown with untouched nails, Lea was a beautifully neglected girl. She was the sugar coated representation of other children in her exact situation.
Nonetheless, Lea still suffered the same psychological responses to repressed childhood trauma, and today sat in her fifth period English class with a pencil attached to the edges of pursed lips. Pain lived in her eyes, rippling the crystal color like touched water. Stagnantly, she watched Mrs. Morose pace that classroom floors at a slow pace, her wrinkled mouth opening widely to spew the knowledge she wished her class would consume. But sadly they did not, the majority of the students either asleep, fidgeting with their supplies, or watching the clock in desperation as the last few minutes of class sped by. Five minutes remained, Lea realized as she glanced over. She did her best not to look at the time, as she felt she could get through the day faster if she was unaware of it.
"Uhh, Lea?" Jerome's shrewd void woke loud among the ruckus of the rest of the class, appearing arbitrarily in the midst of everything else.
Lea shifted in her seat before landing an elbow on her binder, the weight of her forearm pressing down endless pieces of text inside. Lea's gaze rose from the empty space on the wall to Jerome's face in a manner of seconds, her hazy eyes needing a moment to focus. Light peach fuzz drafted over his upper lip, and his kinky hair was beginning to grow out to resemble a finely clipped hedge of bush.
A wild glint passed in Tyrese's eyes as he made eye contact with her, his gaze's forecast fogging over like a hot summer day.
"Jerome," Tyrese snapped, the sound of his voice a whistle under the commotion of the rest of the class. He scanned Jerome up and down very carefully, trying to avoid Lea's own watchful ogle. Her eyes remained on Tyrese insistently despite his blatant discomfort. He shifted his hands awkwardly in his oversized basketball shorts as he leaned over to whisper in Jerome's ear.
    "Don't be talkin' ta her, ya know her Mama's that crackhead who got killed in that driveby-"
    Face casted down with a gloomy shadow, Lea cast her focus down to the roughness of her desk. This was a typical line of dialogue that she heard from her classmates, one that instead of making her rivot in anger, caused her to shut down instead. Her soft shoulders slumped forward, eyebrows drawn into a tight knot at the root of her nose, a heavy sigh releasing from her plump lips; she was familiar with this feeling. People did not want to connect with a damaged girl, likely out of fear of what they did not understand. That wasn't their faults, either.
    Jerome frowned for a moment, sending quick glances between them before relinquishing Tyrese's grip on his shoulder.
    "Lots a people get killed around here. It ain't her fault," Jerome's voice dropped to a low resonating sound, one that brushed against her senses as softly as faux fur. She didn't trust her slight interest in him though, establishing a mental wall between them once again. She didn't dare let anyone in.
    Tyrese shrugged, raising his hands defensively. "Yeah, and you stay away from those people so you don't get shot,"
    He had a point. Those associated with other people associated with gang violence and drug deals were at a greater risk of losing their life. Quite frankly, Lea was at a high risk herself, given the fact that her Mother failed to pay the proper amount of money for her crack. That was what led to the shooting in the first place; or, that was what Lea believed had led to it.
    Deloris showed up within a manner of seconds to snatch up Tyrese's arm, the possessive move an indication that it was time to depart from the conversation.
    "Come on baby, let's go get some lunch," Deloris tossed her bright scarlet braids over her left shoulder before slinking down Tyrese's arm, drawing an impatient hand up to brush his chest. Tyrese sighed loudly enough to make his irritation known. Sunlight streaming down the hallway emphasized the honey brown of her eyes, and bringing out the succulent pink of her lips, making Lea wonder why she stayed with this prick. Being as visually stunning as she was, there was no reason to stay with a man annoyed by his own girlfriend wishing to spend time with him. But alas, the couple still stayed closely knit, and from Lea's distant observation, Deloris wasn't likely to leave him anytime soon. Not when she was pregnant with his baby, afterall.
Leaving, by this point, was the man's job.
Fingers bunched tightly at the bottom of his trousers, Jerome staggered out of the classroom after the rest of the class had exited. The only person left was Lea, who stood idly next to the concrete classroom wall, with her hands framed against a stack of literature and textbooks. It was amazing that she carried the hefty books all day long in her doughy arms.
    Aware of the fact that his eyes had not pried from Lea in a matter of moments, Jerome quickly ducked his chin down to break the contact between them. The brief glint of sunshine flashed in her oceanic eyes as she pressed her full lips into a delicate smile, immediately stricken with self-conscious discomfort. The strange quality of this discomfort was unfamiliar to her though. Despite her attempts to look away, a magnetic pull still reached for the tip of her chin, anchoring it up to Jerome's warm, earthy gaze. The concrete wall that she'd built between them had begun to, ever so slightly, quiver in its long established sturdiness. Lea sucked in a quick breath, feeling the soft dip of sunlight pouring down the left half of her face. Jerome seemed to watch her with an inquisitive intent, seriousness washing over his soft features.
    Entirely unsure of how to respond to Jerome's focused stare, Lea turned away from him with haste. The light toss of her dark, mahogany hair was what finally broke the otherwise unwavering connection between them, like a wire being split into two. She was gone in a manner of seconds, leaving Jerome in the same position as before, leaving him to wilt in this newfound feeling. It was one that he'd had yet to experience before... one that fascinated him to the same degree that it absolutely petrified her.