Spring Won't Come

Nine: Isaiah

Isaiah's eyes lingered on the Flying V sitting on the guitar stand, like a parent dropping off their child on the first day of school. He still couldn't believe that he had gotten the chance to play on the thing. And even better, he would get the chance to play it again tomorrow.

'You can stay if you want," Manny said. "I'm sure Alice has extra blankets that we could use."

Isaiah stood and cracked his back, the muscles sore from playing hunched over. He looked around at the room and couldn't help but feel like the place was actually starting to feel like a home

Lu had helped Manny and him rearrange some of the furniture and then to set up the bed frame that Manny had gotten from Alice earlier in the day. Manny's new room now had a king size bed, a bean bag chair, and some plastic bins for his clothes.

Their practice space had been rearranged to better accommodate Alice's furniture. All the instruments were on one side of the living room and the couches had been moved, one against the back wall and one against the half wall that led to the kitchen.

Isaiah lingered on the thought of staying the night, but there was no way that he could get away with it. His family would notice if he was gone and would start asking questions. There was also that bad feeling in his gut, the kind that told you that something would grab your feet if you let them hang off the bed at night.

"I gotta get home," Isaiah said. Manny didn't need to know his reasons. He nervously began to trace the outlines of the patches on his vest.

"Alright, man," Manny said. "I promise not to play the V while you're away."

Isaiah gave Manny a firm yet playful slap on the back. "You leave my baby alone. Ya hear?"

They shook hands and Isaiah left the building. He wasn't ashamed of the fact that he was almost running as soon as he left the unit. He thought he might have heard the rats but he didn't stick around long enough to find out.

He hummed as he walked, one of the melodies that Manny had written when he had been "in the zone." The music was good, Isaiah knew, real good. His problem was that it was almost too good for Manny to have written, and the weird thing was that Manny couldn't remember writing it in the first place.

Isaiah glanced up at the moon and shivered. He hated walking alone at night but was grateful that it wasn't cloudy and that there were some street lights that still worked. It wasn't just the dark that scared him, it was the things that hid in the dark.

This part of town was a mix of local businesses, small houses, and apartment complexes. It was a fun place to hang out on summer days. Children paused their play to get a freeze pop from the corner store, a group of college kids banged away on bucket drums, old men congregated to smoke cigarettes and talk about days gone by.

At night though, this place transformed into something far more dangerous. The coolness of the night and the rattle of dead leaves on the sidewalk only built an air of insidiousness. The brick buildings didn't seem so fun and nostalgic when draped in shadows. The dark windows stared out at passersbys like the great eyes of a beast, watching and waiting to devour anyone careless enough to get too close.

Isaiah had good reason to be afraid of this part of town at night. He had been jumped on three different occasions over the summer and had been placed in handcuffs twice that. He hadn't done anything wrong and had been released each time. His only crime had been being born the wrong color.

Isaiah never told his father about the run-ins with the cops. His father would have roused the congregation into a march and would likely have gotten himself arrested, or worse. No, these were the kinds of things Isaiah would rather handle on his own. He could handle himself in a fight and could handle being profiled, it came with the territory.