Chapter Two
Some men wearing blue track suits and lifting belts with brown shoulder straps are yelling profanities at each other as they unload the truck that drove past earlier. I run cautiously towards it and hide behind a huge oak tree and bury myself into some tall grass that instantly itches my skin. The truck belongs to a moving crew who are setting up floodlights on the pathway to the house because the sun is slowly dropping behind the horizon, making the sky a pale purplish grey. My ears are deafened by the truck’s idling engine and the exhaust fumes are exasperating the clean air. The dark blue truck is covered in mud and the tires are in need of some air. I watch closely as the movers struggle with a giant dresser in the back of the truck. There is one standing below the truck as the other one is inside and lowers the dresser. An awkward crack erupts from the dresser base as it bumps the ground. The movers both put their hands over the heads and exhale at the exact same time.
In the front of the house, there are two white doors and they are surrounded by dark red brick. The four windows on either side of the doors are mammoth but could use some fresh paint. Massive untrimmed bushes grow along the base of the house, many of the ends are brown and yellowish green. Several cracked wooden steps lead to an empty porch covered with empty beer bottles, cigarette butts, dead leaves and dirt. A black fly buzzes in and around my ears as I watch more furniture moving in. It’s hard to tell from the darkness and my view from the tree but I see a lot of furniture inside the truck.
I creep towards the house when the movers are distracted and push my body through the bushes, smelling it’s sweet fragrance. I grab onto the base and peer into a dusty window, I can‘t see anything. I use my sleeve to wipe away some of the grime and I see shadowy figures moving about. All I can really see is a large figure moving inside, it looks to be unpacking from a box, but I’m not certain because there are no lights turned on. A bottle appears to be in the left hand of the shadow and I can see smoke billowing from a cigarette in the right.
Suddenly my heart skips and my body tenses as I hear an angry growl and quick footsteps running behind me but before I can react my body is pushed to the ground and my breath is knocked from my lungs. I lay helplessly on my back and all I can smell is the beast’s disgusting breath. I almost puke when my face is covered by a big wet tongue. A dog has attacked me but I can’t make out the breed because of the night sky. As my hands fight the monster’s face off of mine the animal is suddenly yanked off my chest and my lungs fill with air. My eyes are squeezed shut and my fists are clenched ready to fight. But when I open my eyes I see my rescuer is kneeling beside my crumpled body. As one of the floodlights lights up a face, I see a girl, a teenage girl.
I stare blankly at her. There’s a brief silence between us as we look at each other. She has black hair that parts in the middle of her forehead and flows down to her shoulders. Her hair perfectly frames her face. Her brown eyes are full with long black eyelashes and her cute nose runs down to meet her plush pink lips that are now smiling, revealing her perfectly white teeth. She is breathtaking.
“I’m really sorry,” she finally says. “Percy gets to be a little aggressive sometimes, God I hope you are okay, she didn’t bite you did she?" She spoke quickly and pushes her hair behind her left ear with her hand. I notice that her face blushes red whenever she looks into my eyes. I am simply lost in hers. She brushes dirt off my shoulders, and the initial contact gives me a jolt of electricity. The girl helps me up to my feet but I just continue to stare at her, not blinking once.
“I’m really sorry, my name is Courtney, what’s yours?” she asks. I begin to search for the words but there are none. Words were non-existent. My mouth is dry and my tongue feels swollen, all I can taste is stale saliva. I take a breath and the front door opens quickly with a creek and a deep voice calls Courtney to dinner. She apologizes again and tells me to meet her at Mr. General’s Store tomorrow at noon. With a flashy smile, Courtney takes off with my heart and she rounds the corner of the house and I listen as her footsteps leap up the stairs to the porch. I still can’t blink until the door slams shut. I rub my face with my dirty sleeve and shake my head as I mumble under my breath,
“Genesis.”
----------------------------------------------------
As I walk through the front door to my home, I see my mom is busy making lots of noise in the kitchen. There are pots and pans all over the counter. Empty packages lay on the counter and some on the floor. The tap is running water and my mom is cutting up vegetables with a huge knife on a cutting board. My mom is a natural looking woman with straight brown hair that she has tied into a mess in the back of her head. Her skin is tan and she has a warm smile when I haven’t done anything to piss her off. She has a round face and her eyes are brown and aged with crow’s feet. She never wears make-up and only smells like fresh laundry. She’s about five foot-six and my arms are full when I hug her. She’s wearing an old yellow t-shirt with a tabby cat on the front and dark blue track pants.
My mom is as tough as they come, I have never seen her cry. She once slapped me across the face when I was eleven because I had stolen candy from The General. I’ll never forget the look in her eyes after she did it. I just remember sitting on my bed stunned from the impact of her hand on my cheek. It stung so badly, my eyes watered and my cheek had an outline of her fingers for hours. She stuck the hand she slapped me with inside her hair and wore a bizarre look of anger, guilt, and sadness upon her face. There was such an awkward silence which seemed to drag on for three hours and we just looked into each others eyes after the contact, not sure what to say. My mom apologized that night in her own special way by feeding me banana pancakes at dinner for the first and only time.
The house smells like spaghetti sauce and the air is muggy inside because of all the cooking she has done. From out of the corner of my eye I see a four-foot-five blonde run into the living room. It’s my little brother, Matthew. We get along sometimes but most times he is a pest. He has big baby blue eyes like mine and fine blonde hair that our mom always combed over. He’s missing a couple of teeth and he usually has some sort of mess on his face, today it looks like chocolate. Matthew looked a lot like my dad and people always told my mother his eyes are shocking because of the similarities.
Matthew just finished the first grade. My mom wasn’t too impressed this year when she went to his classroom and discovered his desk was attached to the teacher‘s. His teacher said he was a distraction to his classmates so the only way she could contain him was to have him sit beside her desk at all times. My brother screamed after a good spanking that night when they got home. I felt kind of sorry for him until I heard that he was being a brat. He even had to go to these bad behaviour classes which is where all the children with attention problems went. He had a chart taped to his desk with all the days of the school week on it. If he behaved well on Monday, he would get a sticker placed into the Monday box. Every Friday they had to report to their behaviour teacher and show how their behaviour was each week. If they were good, they were allowed to go outside and play for half an hour. I could always tell when he had a good week because my mom would bake chocolate chip cookies every Friday. If there were none, I knew he was having a bad week.
Our house is pretty simple. At the front door there are stairs to the left of the entrance against the wall. The stairs lead to three second floor bedrooms and a bathroom. The kitchen is directly to the right of the front door and has two entrances. One, from the main hallway in the front directly beside the front door and the other kitchen entrance is from the living room at the back of the house. It’s a bungalow so there are only so many places we can go to escape each other. The basement is always cold and dusty. Old creaky stairs let everyone know when someone is going down. There is an aging carpet in the basement that used to be orange at some point in time and it was curling up at all corners of the walls. I hated that basement when I was little because it was always so quiet until the freezer turned on it made such an odd sound that gave me the creeps.
My mom slams the tap off and turns around with a disgusted look on her face.
“Why are you so filthy?” My mom asked. I look at the dust on my sleeves and the stains on my pants and smile as it reminds me of Courtney. Before I can even answer my mom turns around and faces away from me once again, shaking her head as she turns the tap back on and yells,
“So what? I’m supposed to buy you new clothes every month?” I can tell this is rhetorical so I keep quiet. She shakes water from a leaf of lettuce into the sink and quietly says.
“Go wash up, dinner is almost ready, be more careful next time Genesis, we don’t have money just for your well being.” This is a line I hear almost five times a week, but we always seem to fill the fridge with food and keep the lights on, so we must be doing ok.
When I return to the table I see roast beef in the middle of the dinner table on a fancy white platter. The beef is surrounded by other plates consisting of mashed potatoes, steamed carrots and cooked peas. A woven basket is filled with dinner rolls and the gravy is right beside my spot at the table. As I sit into my chair I grab a glass of milk and drink it as quickly as I can, my throat was still dry. During dinner, I tell my mom about the new family that moved in and I go on about Courtney like I’ve known her for years. My mom stays quiet and doesn’t say much, I just get the occasional head nod and smile. Matthew looks to be lost inside some kind of fantasy world in his head and plays with his peas and potatoes. His hand is resting on the side of his face and he is mumbling something incoherent under his breath.
After dinner, I do some of my chores which always include a mass amount of dishes and I’m endlessly cleaning up the table. Matthew tries to help out some days but he usually just gets in my way so I send him off to play tonight which seems to be perfectly fine with him. Afterwards, I walk out to the front porch, the air was chilly and smelled of freshly cut grass. The sky is dark except for the silver light from the moon which looked small tonight. For the first time in the last few hours, Courtney isn’t on my mind, my father is. When I was eight years old, my father died at the coal mine, where most of the men in the town used to work. It was a freak accident where one of the mine-shafts collapsed and my dad was trapped. Our pastor tried to comfort me by saying he didn’t suffer and his death was quick. He said something else about him being with God, but for some reason I can’t help but think it was a painful death. The entire town went to the funeral and I felt a sense of belonging. Women would hug me and the men would rub my head or squeeze my arm.
“Chin up.” One man said. It comforted me for some reason. Looking at my father for the last time in the casket didn’t mean much to me then, but I wish I could see him one more time. I was old enough to understand death but too young to grasp the true meaning of a funeral. They closed the mines for good after the accident and put a memorial for him beside the old entrance. The memorial was a huge rock with his face etched into the stone and a passage from the Bible was written underneath. My mom has a picture framed on the wall of all of us standing beside the memorial, I was smiling for some reason.
I reach down and feel for the inscription my father had carved on the rocker I‘m now sitting in. Dad carved my mother’s and his own initials under the seat when they bought it. My mother was angry at first because she felt the chair was ruined but when she realised his intentions were good, she embraced it. It always makes me feel like dad is with me when I sit in this chair and drag my fingers over the inscription. The chair is dark brown and has four pegs in the back with a thick head rest and heart shapes carved in the middle with vines. The varnish is fading and there are several chips missing in the seat. The arm rests curl downward at the ends and a soothing creak escapes from the chair when anyone sits in it. Tears begin to sting my eyes as I think about the only memories I have of him and I rest my head on my hand as I rock slowly back and forth. I’m thinking about the memory I love most about my dad while June bugs buzz around the porch light.
My father would always come home so filthy and dark from the mines. When he stepped, small clouds of dust would float from the fabric of his work uniform. He looked like someone completely different to me. If it wasn’t for the blue eyes that glowed past the soot, I probably would have ran away. After he showered and cleaned himself up, he finally looked like dad again. He would chase me around the yard, scoop me up and throw me high into the air. When I was briefly floating, I would always feel so free and I always knew dad would be there to catch my fall, and he would every time. His catch was always gentle and he never squeezed me too hard. But that night on the front porch when mom told me that he had died, I blacked out and fell backwards into the rocker. That is why the chair means so much to me; it is the one thing that I feel peace in. I stand up from the rocker and go upstairs to my dark room.
It’s always humid at night in the summer time so I usually have a fan plugged into my wall across from my bed. My room is dark blue and filled with posters of different movies and bands. My dresser is cluttered with a mess on top and my floor is home to missing socks and baseball cards. As soon as I enter, tears pour uncontrollably from my stinging eyes. I lay on top of the blue covers on my bed with my arms wrapped tightly around the white fluffy pillows, softly sniffling and eventually fall asleep while I think of dad.
--------------------------------------------------
I wake up with the sun shining at me through my bedroom window. The shutters cast funny shadows across my bed and a slight breeze makes the air a bit cool. I love to see a blue sky in the morning, such positive energy comes from it. Courtney is back in my thoughts. Her hair, her eyes and of course her smile. I eventually roll out of bed after several minutes I use to wake-up and notice only one sock remains on my foot. I must’ve fallen asleep pretty quickly because I usually can’t stand the feeling of wearing socks to bed. I look into my bedroom mirror above my dresser and notice my hair is a complete disaster. I kind of smile and scratch my head and walk over to my closet to put on some clean clothes. I throw on some blue jeans and a black t-shirt. I comb my hair to make it somewhat presentable. I leave my room and go into the bathroom that’s a few feet away. The tiled floor feels cold on my bare feet as I relieve my bladder into the toilet bowl. Sometimes nothing can beat the feeling of a good piss when you really have to go. My extremities tingle as I finally finish and zip up.
My mouth tastes exactly the way it should when someone forgets to brush their teeth the night before so I decide to head downstairs and eat something to get the taste out of my mouth. After breakfast with Matthew and mom, I eventually make my way to a huge elm tree in front of Mr. General’s. As I wait, I stare at people going about their business. I love to people watch, I could do it all day, I always make up stories in my head about what they are doing and where they are going. I see on older man walking into the store with a cane.
Mike walked past the store and noticed me standing alone in the shade. We looked really similar. He is tall and skinny with dark shaggy hair but he has a five o’clock shadow forming above his upper lip that makes him look a bit older than me. The first time we met was during summer vacation when we were six. He was playing with a toy dump truck outside of my house on our lawn so I walked over with a bucket of sand from the sandbox in our backyard and poured it all over his toy. I thought I was helping, he thought I was mean. The rest was history though, we hung out every summer after that day and our parents became really close too.
I ask him how life is and he shrugs his shoulders. Not too much was said because I wanted him to leave before Courtney showed up. I wasn’t really sure how to say that to Mike so I kept my sentences short with him, hoping he would pick up my hint. We briefly talked about school and he mentioned he saw the moving truck yesterday but I didn’t want to tell him about Courtney. I wasn’t going to say anything until I actually talked to her. Mike is quite the charmer despite the lack of women in town. Talking to girls comes natural to him and that is something I have always been jealous of. Mike finally tells me he is off to his aunt’s house and had to head home. I wave goodbye to Mike as he quickly walks down the road and disappears as he rounds the corner.
I look around hoping to see Courtney in the distance but all I can see is a few people and the old man with the cane now heading out of Mr. General’s with bags. I sit down and rest my back against the tree, feeling the bark dig into my back and parts of the sun gleam onto my skin. There are a few roots popping up from the ground around me and I can see ants everywhere. I smell the fresh air as a few clouds were rolling through the sky with a gentle breeze. My eyes are heavy and I eventually give in and fall asleep. I might’ve slept for hours if it wasn’t for the bird chirping above me on a branch. I rub my tired eyes and yawn as my legs stretch out. As I stand from the tree I look down to my watch to see what time it is. It was later then I thought. A turning in my stomach put thoughts into my head. Semi-lost in a day dream I look up to see the General heading my way from his store. The General is an old man who works at the General Store and has been there for as long as I can remember. His love for children is evident by the amount of candy he gives them. He’s short and his head is balding into a horseshoe pattern, which seems to be a very common hairstyle in this town. He usually wears plaid shirts underneath his bright red suspenders to help keep his forest green trousers on his bony old hips. I don’t think I even know the General’s real name.
He had something brightly coloured in his hands and he was smiling at me. He has a slight limp to his step as he crosses the road and he pushes his glasses up with his hand as he reaches out to give me candy.
“That there my boy, is the best candy you’ll ever put past your lips! Tell your friends!” He gives me a wink with his old eye and turns back towards the store, looking both ways before he crosses the road once more. I open the noisy candy wrapper which attracts some attention from a nearby squirrel and put the bright yellow candy into my mouth. Instantly I feel a crackling sensation and my mouth felt like it was foaming with sour flavour. My lips are pursed and I begin to hop around on one foot as the candy was very strong, spit was dribbling from the corner of my mouth and I make a loud slurping sound as I suck it back in.
My attention was focused back onto my watch as the sourness eventually fades and my stomach kept turning, but it wasn’t from the candy. I felt sweat trickling on my back, but it wasn’t hot. I kick stones on the road in front of the tree and pace. The sky was starting to dim and another vibrant sunset was taking place. My stomach is telling me it must be close to dinner time so I decide to head home and return for a little bit longer afterwards. The sky suddenly seemed a lot darker. Birds were flying from tree to tree in a weird manner and I thought that perhaps a storm was heading this way. The air felt chilly and moist.
I didn’t take my time, I wanted to eat quickly and return before the rain came so I walked as quickly as I could until I finally reached my house. My house has a garden of different coloured flowers in front of the porch. It is as old as every other house in the town. The bricks are dark brown and the window shutters are worn and the blue paint is chipped and fading. Hydro wires strung from the roof connected with the hydro pole across the street. There were usually birds perched on this wire but they aren’t there tonight. I climb the wooden stairs of the porch and walk past dad’s chair to reach for the screen door. It creeks loudly as I open it and step inside to call for my mom.
“Mom!” I stand and listen to silence.
“Mom, where are you?” Silence still.
“Mom!” I yell once more and open the door to the basement to see light dimly escaping the clutching darkness.
“I’m downstairs.” Mom was in the basement. I walk down the stairs and they creak loudly beneath my feet. She’s sitting alone on the old brown couch that’s in the middle of the basement. I walk over to her with my face furrowed.
“Are you ok?” I ask as I sit beside her. The couch is surrounded by boxes and metal shelving. A single bulb is fastened to the ceiling above us and a metal strings dangles from it.
“You never sit in the basement alone,” I tell her. My Mom shared my hated for basements. She told me once that she always felt like someone was watching her when she was alone down here. I didn’t grasp the meaning of what she said until I was a little older. Mom looked at me with a weird look on her face, but it was a familiar look.
In my peripheral vision I saw the wall moving slowly, the cement walls were beginning to melt. I sat still but I sat in awe, my hands were still and my mom turned to see what I was looking at. A natural warmth developed into my stomach and a calmness shadowed the couch. The basement evolved into a funeral home. The room was dark with the only light source illuminating from the hundreds of lit candles on the stage. The candles surrounded the casket and they are white and red; all perched on black iron holders that twisted to the floor. The couch vanishes and my Mom is now sitting in one of the pews near the front. I stand alone in the back entrance. The calmness never leaves my stomach and my breath is slow. The stage is glowing orange and thousands of flowers litter the floor surrounding the casket. The smell of roses and candles embrace the entire room. I close my eyes slowly and breath it in. I feel compelled to walk into the room, compelled to see Courtney one last time. The calmness is starting to turn into anxiety, my legs are wobbly, my feet are slow and my hands are sweaty. My jaw is clenched to fight the tears in my eyes. I walk slowly down the single aisle of the room, there are candles at the entrance of each row. Fifteen rows of wooden pews each filled with blurry silent people dressed in black.
I make my way to the front area of the centre stage and there are three red steps that match the red carpet. Each step feels like a mountain to take but I eventually make my way to the casket mounted high on an oak base. I look down and see Courtney resting peacefully.
The air is hot from the flames and my face is sweaty. I put my hand to my mouth and start to weep uncontrollably. Hyperventilation sets in and I start to panic. My arms and legs shake like lightning has coursed through my entire body. My head snaps back and my body continues to tremble. The tears stream down my face and a bright light pushes out the dark so the whole room is bright and shining. The light forces my eyes shut as I continue to shake, my body hurts. My head begins to pound and my fingers stretch out, all of my extremities are aching and my lungs begin to close out. I’m gasping for a breath but only feel pressure against my skin. I feel as though my breaking point has arrived until the light vanishes, the candles blow out and the room is dark. The air smells like smoke and I lay crumpled onto the floor. The room is empty and silent, everyone is missing from the pews, but I remain on the floor beside Courtney. The silence is terrifying but I can only think about getting to Courtney. Blind, I reach out and feel for the base of the casket. I climb to my knees and rest my head against the side.
“Genesis.” I say my name three more times under my breath as tears continue to roll over my smiling cheek.
