Escaping the 49

Kyle was crazy in the way that he thought Judith was crazy. He had a terrible habit of always assuming he was intelligent even after he left the chickens to die in the storm. Judith once tried to get it through to him that his Ph.D. in recycling dirt only meant that he had a Ph.D. in recycling dirt. But he wasn't open to common sense, and still thought he was wise beyond his age.

Judith didn't have a Ph.D., which was a faulty strategy on her part, maybe that'd make Kyle more receptive to her philosophies. 

"I don't think going out with you again would be very judicious," he'd say, adjusting the glasses that he'd bought with a make-believe prescription. 

"Yes, you see, I know you think that. Now, here's why you're wrong," Judith would respond, lovingly knocking his glasses off him.

"You're crazy!"

"Yes, I know you think that, now here's why you're also wrong-"

"Crazy, crazy," he'd shout back.

And then the whole conversation was moot, really.

It's not that she was desperate for it, like Kyle's sister might assume. But she thought maybe Kyle was someone to fight for, and she had a yellow belt in karate and everything.

She'd sometimes see him kneeling on the ground, being gross with the compost while worms butted his fingertips, muttering under his breath and more agreeable now that he didn't have his intelligence to prove to anyone. That was when Judith sighed for him, her quiet and dirty man playing in the mud.

He thought she was crazy, though, and spurned her advances, which more than often threw a wrench in her plans. They were great plans, she'd tell you about them later, she had bullet-points and everything.

“I- listen, Judy, the first time was…” he’d trail off, flushing and adorable. It was good of him to be embarrassed, though, on account of her being hit by lightning and all.

“Bullshit!” Her friends said then and would say it again once she told them why she was in a tree during a storm on her first date anyway and what chickens had to do with it. She’d stayed in the hospital for two weeks and had a little scar running down her wrist and everything. It was good it was such a weak sissy of a bolt, the quack told her. Judith remarked that she had something of a talent in attracting weak sissies. The quack didn’t laugh, though, and Judith had to cross that one out.

It was an experience, she’d describe it later, pulling on the last word until it begged for mercy. It was good in some ways because now, for as long as she lived, she was forever set for conversation. Storm-catcher, she’d added to her Facebook bio. Life was kind sometimes. 

The one thing that ruined it was Kyle, which wasn’t unusual since he had something of a talent in mucking things up. He ruined it because he blamed himself for the storm, for the tree, for the lightning strike. Judith had told him then, lying in a hospital bed with her ears ringing, that his Ph.D. didn’t suddenly make him Thor. Then he went on to explain that it was all dominoes, everything was butterfly-effect dominoes, and he kicked down the first one with the chickens. Judith agreed that that was a completely man-made disaster. Then he cried some more, then he held her hand, then he promised that this would never happen again.

Judith agreed with that too because she wasn’t keen on a second round, although she did fantasize about adding “Making lightning my bitch 2x” to her Facebook. She didn’t know, however, that his promise involved refusing to ever see her again.

She’d come banging on his door, lip wobbling and head throbbing. His sister answered, eating sugar cereal like a child, “Kyle can’t speak to you right now.”

“Why?” Judith demanded, “and why are you always here?”

His sister smacked her lips, milk lining the corners, “Kyle’s busy.”

“Why are you even eating that, you know it’s for children, right? Tell him to answer my calls, this isn’t fair.” 

His sister raised an eyebrow, silent. Judith scolded her till sobs started to bleed into her tone and her heart began stuttering like an ancient exhaust pipe.

It wasn’t fair. Even after Kyle warmed up to her being around him again, he still kept her at arms-distance, treating her like cheap glass. Judith despised him for it, hated that he was still so hung up on it. It was alright, it was funny, her friends squawked with unbelievable delight at the hilarious heaven-defying audacity of it all. The scar was slight and interesting, it gave her character. 

He told her once about how it felt, how he saw it aiming for her, so fast, too fast. Like it slipped right out of the cloudy fingers, reaching for the laughing girl with her phone raised to the skies, hoping to catch a signal. He shook like a bare leaf, remembering how the ground shivered and the tree spazzed out, how the light was so bright he almost believed it was the next morning, how she folded over and dropped out of the charred branches.  

Judith listened to him despite the whole thing making her teeth hurt and her chest ache. She petted his hair until he jerked his head away. She wished, sometimes, that he could try to feel less, that his heart didn’t always have to go all or nothing. It made her feel phony, hearing him speak like that, with such intense emotion. She herself had used the money her mother sent her for a therapist to buy a month worth of bona fide vegan food, so she didn’t have to pretend to be one anymore, at least for a while. It was expensive and tasted like trash and the spending was good.

“Kyle thinks this for the best,” his sister said, lounging in a Smurf tracksuit, as Judith dejectedly left for the night, “he thinks you need time for yourself.”

Kyle’s sister of course didn’t know that the only time Judith didn’t think of Kyle is when she was with Kyle. He was right, maybe Judith was crazy.

“You don’t know everything,” Judith replied, “I mean, that’s obvious considering you decided it was perfectly okay to wear that blue vomit in front of God and everyone.”

Kyle’s sister raised an eyebrow, silent as Judith continued to harass her.