The First Leg

The Way Back Around: Chapter 2

After deciding upon the course of action, I turned on the TV once again to stave off the cold silence of the living room. After scanning past the game to get a quick glance at the score- my team a touchdown behind- I settled on a cooking show in hopes that it wouldn’t bore the girl too much. Hanna remained silent for the remainder of the night, or at least until she started to doze off against the back of the couch.

I took her gently snoring as a signal to turn back to the game, only to see more points lacking from my side of the scoreboard, and the last quarter counting down faster that I could finish the second of my beers. I flicked off the TV and stretched my legs. Hanna stirred as I wrapped my arms under her and pulled her up off the couch, holding her over my shoulder as we went back to my room. My sheets were luckily the cleanest part of my room, and most likely would not be completely off-putting for the girl. I left her in her clothes, not wanting to go through the trouble of finding whatever she wore to bed in her tightly-packed suitcase.

The remaining quarter of the pizza sat cold on top of the stove. I took the pan and all and shoved it into the fridge, trading it for the fourth beer in my pack of six. It must have been halfway through the bottle when I fell asleep. I awoke some time in the morning light hours, a crook in my neck from laying up against the armrest of the couch, and the aged taste of beer clinging to my taste buds. I jumped up as my eyes caught sight of the little girl, sitting on the floor, leaned against one leg while she looked at the phone upon the ground.

“Good… good morning.” I said, composing myself and rubbing the parallel marks upon my face from the material of the couch.

Hanna looked up to me with tired eyes. “Are you really… did you mean what you said last night?”

I pushed myself up and immediately felt my head go all wobbly, and my bladder rest against my waistband. “For now, yes.” I said, standing and stomping off to the bathroom.

When I came back out, Hanna was still in the same spot. “What time is it? How long have you been up?”

“Like… half an hour. It’s… eight.”

I cursed under my breath and confirmed the time on the clock on the oven. “Well, I need to pack and get cleaned up. You must be hungry, right?”

Hanna nodded and looked up from her phone momentarily. “Yeah…”

“There’s muffins in the fridge. Take one, and… well, we should bring them with. We’ll have to stop somewhere to get gas, too…” I spoke to myself out loud, scanning my place for any other things I would have to bring with.

After taking a shower and switching into fresh clothes, I pulled my old duffel bag out of the hall closet and paraded it to my bed in front of the dresser in my bedroom. As I tossed in several pairs of clothes haphazardly, Hanna wandered it, nibbling down the head of the blueberry muffin into the paper wrapper. “You don’t… have anything more comfortable than that to change into?” I asked, looking her up and down. “I mean, you were on the plane the whole time yesterday with those clothes, too?”

“You told me not to unpack.” Hanna said with her mouth half full.

I took a deep sigh and shrugged. “Well, not all the way. You must have something in there readily available? You might want to brush your teeth or something, too. I don’t think… you’ll have time for a shower.”

Hanna tugged at the muffin’s wrapper to get at the base of it. “Whatever.” She said, shrugging in a way that seemed to copy my own.

I turned back to my packing while Hanna wandered off again. On the way to drag my bag out before the door, I stopped at the bathroom to grab my toiletries and shove them in with the rest of my things. Hanna had laid down the muffin wrapper on the floor beside her as she turned back to her phone before her.

“Clean that up… please. I don’t want to come back to my place to find ants.”

“Okay…” Hanna said, standing up, her eyes locked to her phone still. I went to the fridge, hearing the call of the cold pizza from inside. Hanna passed me and shoved the trash into the bin as I took up the firm, cold, slice between my teeth. “Let’s go, then.” I said, my voice attempting to find its way out past the pizza.

By the time we had arrived at the office, we were already fifteen minutes late to the promised meeting. My coworker’s car was the only one inside the parking lot, and she was beside it, pacing back and forth. I pulled up beside her and stepped out.

“James, it’s about time,” She said, her breath heavy.

I forced a shamed smile. “I forgot to set an alarm, being the weekend and all.”

She turned back to her car and opened the passenger seat, from which she retrieved a flash drive, one of the industrial business types, upon a lanyard from one of the local office supply stores. “Here it is. Let’s hope nothing happens to it.”

I took it up and pulled it over my neck. “It’ll be there, no problem.”

My coworker nodded her head up and down in thanks. “Thank you again, James,” She said, grabbing at my hand. Her eyes suddenly shifted to the side, into the windows of my car. “Who… is that?”

“Long story.” I shook my head.

“What kind of a story?” She asked, her eyes turned down at me. “A good one, or a bad one?”

I turned back and tugged on the handle of my door. “I’ll tell you all about it once I’m back. Maybe… in a week or so.”

“A week?!” I heard the last words from her as I shut my door and started up my car.

“She seems…” Hanna began, her eyes following the view of the woman as I rounded back out to the street. “Peppy.”

“That’s one word for it,” I said with a shrug, my eyes focused on the empty roads of the business park. “I suppose… I should fill up. Well, this is definitely going to be a strain on my lease agreement.”

“Your what?” Hanna asked.

“The amount of miles I’m able to drive while leasing it. I get like… 12k a year.”

“Leasing?”

“A lease is like… I have an agreement pay each month for the duration I have the car.”

“So… like a rental?” Hanna asked, making eye contact with me for one of the rare instances.

“Not quite.” I said, shrugging. “I get to pick out the car, and I get to drive it as my own for a year or two, making those payments. Then I might trade in for a new one once my lease is up?”

“So, a rental.”

I hung my mouth open, trying to come up with a response. “Well, kind of, like a long-term one.”

“Why don’t you just buy one?”

“Well… with a lease, I don’t have to worry about repairs, new tires, this, that, you know.”

Hanna hummed loudly, her interest shifting to the view out the passenger window. “Oh, yeah, sure…”

Continue reading “The First Leg”

The Land Called LA

The Way Back Round: Chapter 1

The day was Friday. I watched the clock on the corner of my computer screen as the last-minute call from a customer brought me five, then ten minutes past my departure time, and closer to the beginning of the game. With a barrage of thanks-yous and goodbye’s from the person whose name I had lost since the beginning of the call, I was finally allowed to hang up. I slipped my phone into my pocket and felt at my waistband and butt for my wallet and keys. With my belongings firmly attached to my body, I made my way to the exit.

“James?” came the call from behind, the squeaky female voice belonging the team leader below me. “Can you give these a once-over, pretty please? Before I submit them to the printers?”

I spun around and shrugged. “I’d love to, but the weekend calls.” I said, offering her a sad face and glancing to my watch as if I were late for an important date. “I’m sure what you’ve got is perfect. Those guys can deal with any leftover kinks.”

She placed her hand on her hips, smacking the papers against her leg. “I suppose you’re right.”

I offered a waive back with my hand on the way out the door. My first stop was the store, with a short list. I exited with everything I needed in just over five minutes: A six pack, two frozen pizzas, a tray of muffins, and a bottle of antacids. With at least a good fifteen minutes before the kickoff, I headed home.

As I pulled up to my driveway, I caught a glance of something upon my doorstep. The walk up from my driveway revealed what is was: a girl that I had once known, albeit when she was much younger. Beside her, a tall, fancy suitcase in black leather and scuffed silver buckles. As I set my shopping bag on the ground before the step, she looked up. “What are you doing here?” I asked, looking into her familiar brown eyes. “Where is your mother?”

“Back in New York,” She replied, looking up from her seat against my door. Her eyes sagged with tired circles and her long hair was split down over her shoulders and forehead.

“…Why?” I shook my head, announcing the only response I could mouth at the time. “Well, come on, let’s get inside.” I concluded, picking up my groceries again and fishing for the keys in my pocket.

Hanna pushed herself up, her ankles teetering upon the heels taller than I assumed a girl her would dare to wear. Her gaze transfixed on me as I unlocked the door and pulled it open. With a weak yank, she pulled her suitcase over on its wheels to force them over the landing. Her head moved back and forth to examine the interior of my house which had been, unfortunately, not cleaned in some time.

“Well, have a seat.” I said, waiving my arm to the couch on the wall opposite the kitchen.
I planted my grocery bag on the kitchen counter and followed after her, sitting before her as she unzipped the sides of what I may have called ‘designer’ boots. “Well, to start off… how old are you now, Hannah?”

“Thirteen,” She muttered, hardly looking at my face.

“And your mom sent you all the way here by yourself?”

“The airplane attendants said I was a… unaccomplished minor.”

“Unaccompanied minor…?” I said, hoping to jog her memory of the correct term. She glanced at me, and then to either side, down my hallway, with a shrug. I pursed my lips and finally asked the question I had been wondering for a while. “Why would your mom send you here without even getting in touch with me?”

My ex and I had been separated for years, and while we had dual custody, her escape out of LA across the country made any visitation impossible, which no party had been terrible perturbed about, including Hanna herself. It had been many years since then that any sort of communication had been attempted.

Hannah’s face twisted up and her first glance at me turned to a scowl. “I won’t talk about it!” She huffed, shoving herself back against the couch’s backrest.

I leaned back on my hands and let out a long sigh. I glanced back at the clock on the oven that was obscured by the edge of the counter. Looking back to my long-missing daughter, I noticed the vague resemblance to my ex: meticulously straightened black hair, brown eyes, and a slender, pointed nose. “You have a phone, don’t you?”

“Of course,” She groaned back, pulling at her back pocket. “It’s dead though. I used up all the battery on the plane and waiting here by your door.” She offered the wide device at me, and flipped it around to examine the port at the bottom.

“Same as mine.” I said, shoving my tired muscles up off the carpet. “We’ll get it charged.”

“For what?”

“So we can call your mother.”

“She won’t answer.”

“She’s not that bad of a person.” I walked to the wall beside the TV where the long USB cord was poking out from behind the shelfing unit.Continue reading “The Land Called LA”

In Excess

Chapter One [Maybe?  This may or may not continue, as NaNoWriMo approaches once again.]

Nicholas Spear was a bonafied expert in living paycheck-to-paycheck. It was a delicate balancing act for him- always knowing what was excess and what was necessary. Was the bus pass to the outlet with its monthly sale going to balance out excellent the price of groceries? Were the socks he was wearing going to wear out, or the shoes first? The floss or the toothpaste? Was the ceiling light going to drive up the electricity bill more than the cost of fresh batteries for his flashlight? He had to read at night either way somehow.

However, it was one day that fate, or rather his being there for an entire two years, that his place of employment offering him a raise. His precise calculations changed that day, by a variation of twenty-five cents per hour, or two dollars per day, or ten dollars per week, or forty dollars per month. All minus the seven point five percent income tax. Alas, at the end of that month, he had exactly enough to do what he had always dreamed of, but was never able to afford: to kill himself.

It had always been a thought in the back of his mind, but the budget never had quite enough in order to fulfill the deed. You see, there was just as much planning in dying by one’s own hands as there was in living. There were multiple things to consider- timing, method, and location.

The time was just at the beginning of the month, obviously, right as all the bills were payed for. That way, any necessary service would not have to carry over any longer. Leaving rent unpaid for his landlord, or a power power running up a bill would be inconvenient for others somewhere down the line. The checks that would be his final were payed on time, just as they always were, chipping away the biggest part of the still meager paycheck.

The method had to be simple enough for the simple man. Alas, he had long since known how to go about it. He had long since calculated the price to buy a rope both long and strong enough to do the deed. The most basic length fitting all the criteria would do that for the price of 11.99. The detour to the opposite side of town on the bus to the hardware store took then five of those dollars.

Most of the remainder of the carefully sanctioned money went to a taxi to the location he had deemed fit. It was to the forest- up the highway, and the first left turn up the haphazardly paved road into the trees. The well warn backpack carrying the very few, indeed, supplies for the deed, as well as the final amount of money from his account in the form as a tip, was enough to convince the driver to not ask any questions about the journey that Nicholas would be not returning from.

The thin, blistered soles of the shoes on Nicholas’ feet were ill fit for climbing around the rocks and up the hills and through the underbrush of the forest. Being out of the way for his deed was yet a necessity, and onward he went. His last moments would hopefully include one of the final free things that one could enjoy in that day in age- a view.

A wide, mature tree with low enough limbs finally revealed itself to Nicholas, the perfect tool for his demise. The rope in his pack was already tied neatly in the winding, circular knot that he had found out how to fashion on one of the computers at the library. A boulder shunted from nearby would then be enough to hoist himself up just enough to affix the other end of the rope to the closest, strongest limb he could manage. Everything was in place.

Nicholas balanced on his tiptoes and placed his head through the awaiting loop. He felt it come to rest up below his windpipe. The rope strained ever so slightly. He kicked the rock away, and his weight came to be supported by the contraption. Unfortunately, in all his calculations, he had forgone one thing: a lighter to burnish the end of the rope to stop it from fraying. In fact, in all the transit and waiting for the day, the ends of noose had frayed enough to fail. The loose, individual strings resting around his neck slipped free from the bundle of knot and eventually failed, tossing him down to the ground. The rock on which he had balanced tumbled away and down the nearby embankment. His rear then hit the ground, knocking the wind out of him, the fall accompanied with a loud cry.
As he caught his breath, Nicholas looked back up to the half secured strand of rope, now useless. All of a sudden, the crunch of pine needles proceeded the approach of someone from behind.

“I thought I saw someone climbing up here.” Came the voice of a woman.

Nicholas stood up and felt at his neck, still very intact, despite a rope burn.

“You trying to climb the tree?”

Nicholas shook his head and picked up the backpack from beside the tree, preparing himself for what was likely a very long walk back to his house in the city.

“Where are you going?” The woman called out again. “Why are you out here? How did you find this place?”

Nicholas stopped and shrugged.

“Your hands are bleeding.” The woman warned, still looking him down. “And I’m guessing you don’t have any first aid stuff in that crappy sack of yours.”

Nicholas looked down to his hands that were, in fact, scuffed and embedded with dirt and pebbles from when he had fallen onto the dirt. He turned back around to the woman, who was waiting patiently, her hands at her sides. “Come on.” She repeated.

Nicholas relented and began to follow after her as she turned around. The woman was weathered and nature-like, dressed in dirty clothes and sporting a tan and sun-bleached light blond hair. She lead Nicholas even deeper into the forest, seemingly to the middle of nowhere. Eventually, though, came a clearing, awash with the bright midday sun. The woman turned back to him finally.

“We’re here.” She announced. “Stay here for a sec.”

Nicholas glanced about. Most notable in the clearing was a wide building, made up of metal arches draped with white, slightly opaque plastic coverings. Inside of the buildings were bushy green plants with star-shaped leaves. The woman returned, carrying with her a white box plastered with a sticker of a red cross. “Use what you need, then you should go. The main path is about two miles that way.”

Nicholas found himself a spray bottle of antiseptic and a handful of bandages. “What do you… do out here?”

The woman squinted at him, preparing an answer. “We live off the grid. We just want… a simple life, you know.”

“Off the grid.” Nicholas pondered aloud. “Like… for free?”

“More or less.”

“Let me stay here.”

Poppycock

Sunshine and Poppycock: Chapter 4 [Final]

That following late afternoon when I awoke, I found that my mom had come and gone from one job to another, having left behind much-needed groceries somewhere in between. I double checked the date to confirm that it was, indeed, her payday. I was also surprised to find that we- or rather, just my mom- had finally bought some of the things I had asked for on my list. My mom had always cooked at home for as long as I could remember, but I, however, could not say I took after her. Luckily, finding the fridge stocked with things like hot dogs and microwaveable almost-foods always refueled my hope for surviving until my mom would return and cook for the both of us. On top of that, she seemed to have finally caved to my requests and picked up the fudge-sickles I had asked for, likely now that it was warm enough to be eating ice cream.

My only true form of repayment, while essentially being boarded up at home, was to make sure my grades always stayed the best they could be. Free from having to worry about the superfluous task of preparing foods before they could be eaten, I settled into those next few days for the studies that I had promised. I can work properly when my mind and stomach allow it. I caught up to the big assessment, and with its completion, I turned to my special outing as a reward. The night was slightly cooler, but with a hint of humidity.

I was surprised to find Poppy not at the convenience store for once. Cashier didn’t mention anything about him, sticking rather to his familiar, reassuring silence and the provision of the clanking bits of change into my hand. I returned home, somewhat solemnly, with my rattling cup of caramel colored soft drink and candy and chocolate covered peanuts.

Despite not having the regular cravings, I went again the following night. Poppy was once again absent, and to add insult to injury, or perhaps the other way around, Cashier was gone, replaced by Coworker for that particular shift. I forced myself inside and gathered up my prerequisite things, knowing that if I returned home without them, I would simply regret coming in the first place.

Those following nights at home I was left considering the things that Poppy had said, saying how I was smart and all. As if to subvert my bleak self-esteem and my notions about the blond crazy man, my periodic assessment scores returned with grossly high marks. I manged to offer up the results to my mom one night, but rather than the usual tired praise that always followed, her face turned strangely serious. She told me in a hopeful tone that I would easily make any college with scores like that.

I accepted her words without much celebration. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to afford any real college, not to mention even getting to classes during normal people hours with my condition. Then she did it. My mom sprang upon me the financial aid forms she had been quietly filling out on lunch breaks and the time between her two jobs. She also said that the college back on the coast- where we had moved from- would be a perfect fit for me and my condition.

In the following weeks I found myself registered for the required standardized tests. My routine gained an extra period of studying possible questions that may appear. After that, I was headed down to the testing hall. It was very early in the morning, and I was dressed in my thickest layers and a wide hat and sunscreen. My mom had taken the day off work to transport me there. There were many people my age there, and they all looked at me funny. I took the test, and several weeks later, those results came back with what seemed to be a high score. Then the application went in for the school, and… I was accepted. Soon after, it was the financial aid check coming in, followed by the tiniest of notes telling us of the move-in date of the dorms.

Continue reading “Poppycock”