kent

hulk

It’s a Thursday night, so technically Carly shouldn’t be out of her bed and in the night. But after years of the same lecture every week, Carly has become desensitized to the whole spiel. She’ll act like she is listening, nodding her head and dishing out apologies when needed, but the words go in one ear and out the other. She doesn’t even know why her parents put in the effort to get her to change her mind. Her decision hasn’t wavered for many years now, and with each passing night her mindset is only reinforced. It is so beautiful and bizarre out there. Torments are expressed in surges of light and any weights from high school melodrama turn to air. In this weekend world, there is only action of the body and mind. The fights strengthen her muscle and the atmosphere molds her mind until art and physique meld together in her. In Carly’s eyes, fighting is dancing poetry.

But tonight is not a fighting night. Tonight is something more. A box of matches is tucked into the pocket of her jeans, awkwardly bulging under the tight material. A large, white candle is cupped in her left hand, the surface scathed where her fingers dig into the wax. She is nervous. She doesn’t want to be reduced to a standby again, a blithering idiot incapable of comfort. She has had four years of practice now, and tonight will be the all important fifth year anniversary.

She is at the teleport. Dynamo had taught her how to use it, at least well enough to be able to maneuver from his town to her city. She doesn’t dare touch any of the other glowing knobs or shiny buttons, because who knows, maybe the whole thing will self destruct. Carly has enough confidence to fiddle the dials into their appropriate settings, and the metallic disc in the center of the room picks up speed. The walls become fragmented with color and Carly flies over to the disc’s center. Once her feet are firmly planted on the ground, the disc begins to increase its altitude. In a final flash of colored light, the platform begins descending again.

Her frequent visits have accumulated and navigating the once daunting building has become second nature. She hardly needs to think of where she is heading, which is good, because her thoughts are as intertwined as the wick of Adam’s candle. Her focus is elsewhere, and she walks painfully slowly through the hallways, attempting to gather her nerves. Monsters, she can handle. A mess of feelings, is terrifying, something only expressed in true detail in the deep corners of her mind. Intensities should be private, otherwise chaos ensues. Such is the way of love and loss, euphoria and pain. They leave inflictions on other people.

She looks up, the cylindrical wall enclosing her, as if trying to squeeze her into a hug. She can’t help but feel a bit claustrophobic, even though the opposite wall is at least a football field away. Carly takes a deep breath, the only way is up. She flies before she can feel any more trapped. She isn’t doing this for her; she is doing this for Daniel. For Adam. For familial love.

Soon, her knuckles are upon the wooden door. The two knocks resound in the wood, and a soft click is heard from the lock. Daniel is at the door and his mother stands behind him. The soft, sad smiles on their faces are oddly similar between the two.

“Thanks for coming, Carly,” his mother says. Her voice is tainted with fake chirpiness, struggling to stay optimistic tonight. But her eyes are monotonous and they give the pain away.

Carly walks through the door, and Daniel closes it behind her. Before he can turn back around, Carly engulfs him in a hug, and whispers in his ear. “You’re the greatest, okay?” She imagines that he is fed full of condolences already, and she doesn’t want to simply be another apology when she can amount to so much more. If the vigil is meant to make him feel better, then compliments should have the same effect.

Abruptly, Carly lets go of the hug, and turns sharply towards Daniel’s mother. “You, too, Mrs. Lackey.”

“You did a great job. With all three of them, I’m sure.” Carly squeezes her a little harder, and hopes that Daniel can’t hear what she’s saying. When Carly pulls away, Mrs. Lackey gives her a bittersweet smile, eyes moister than they were seconds earlier. She gives Carly a nod, mouths a ‘thank you’ and goes off to converse with other visitors who have stopped by to pay their respects.