At Odds

Unfinished

2

I cannot recall the number of times Jake trailed me.

"You have the persistence of a cockroach, you know that?"

He smiled unabashedly at my joke. It was times like this when I couldn't tell whether he was oblivious to the insult or received it with the same sardonic gesture I use when the other girls insult me.

"How can you refuse this?" He asked in all sincerity, "Your status has dropped 7 points, that's 7 classmates who all previously said you were a decent girl. Want to know the worst part?"

Beneath my glazed composure lied an insatiable desire to punch him in the face. It was common knowledge that he knew everything about every student, but with me, it was as though he had a particular infatuation.

"It's that several of them all said the same thing: that you look more flat than a bulletin board."

I raised my left brow, a psychological trick I learned that would administer any kid or adult with overwhelming dread. His corners hung still. His coffee shouldered hair only making it more charming. In a bad way.

"That's probably the most perverted thing you've ever said to me. Let alone the fact that I don't believe you, how is this any concern of theirs, yours, or mine?"

He rolled his eyes. "Because, if you're going to let them target you like this forever, then that armor of witticism and citrus is going to fade."

Jake had the strangest metaphors.

*

1

The American Regions Math League (ARML) was in a few weeks.

Being brought up from one of the best schools in California, it was only a matter of time before I recognized my strengths. Straight A's was unrealistic for a girl like me, mostly because the pleasures of conformity looked pale in comparison to the independent thought that the school incessantly prohibited. As such, I never expected anyone to appreciate my subtle and meticulous method of learning Calculus at 9th grade. But this team proved me wrong, a rare occurrence in my life. A discontinuity to be more poetic.

What I didn't anticipate however was the exertion it took to collaborate with my teammates. Within several months, it was silently agreed that I was their most valuable asset, even by prodigy Chi Wei, or Bernard as we liked to call him. But what annoyed them was my inclination towards perfectionism and lack of personality. Idiots, all of them.

My bones did not creek as I stood explaining the integration of a three variable function. I had grown quite accustomed to the role I slipped into, and as much as they hated to admit it, so did they.

Afterward, they asked if I'd join them for lunch, but a non verbal twitch of resignation was all it took.

In the halls, I glanced at the plexiglass wall that coiled left and right from one end of the building to the other. It was spotless as always. The school was silent as always. But still, by some impromptu, I treated myself to a whiff of air. Everyone had either gone off to sports, after school clubs, dilettante jobs, or to recharge their social batteries with friends. My mother had made an excuse for me to be absent from having to choose any of those because I was special. She told me herself.

"So why must I go to school? For how long?"

"Just a little while honey. In the meantime, make some friends."

The words seemed to reverberate off the reflective tiled floor and bulletin board confines outside the classrooms. Whenever the conversation recurred in my mind, I played a little mental game. I tried to figure out, based on today, whether what she said was for my own good or for worse. With a self congratulatory nod, I landed on the former.

The competition was practically won, no one would likely give me a run for my money. School had become the bottom of my priority list. But what had made my week was the news that I qualified to drop out of school by the end of the term.

No more walking in single file. No more prejudice against the bohemian of children. No more time spent trying to be amiable. No more feeling vacuous. Just a few lousy months and I was out.

I meandered through the halls, relishing in the spare time that I gifted myself.

"Goodbye School, and goodbye Jake."

*

3

Narrator asks mom Jake's favor for Will and his father

"Mom are you serious?" I asked.

It was only after she rolled her eyes and exhaled with the stress of a mine worker that I reanalyzed my response. I was never sarcastic with her, not after what happened. But she didn't know that.

"I didn't mean it that way, but...Really? I can be done?"

After a pause she scoffed at her own gullibility and smiled. "Yes. I keep telling you what an amazing girl you are. You have nothing to prove to those penguins."

I returned a grin to her, a visual delicacy that only she was granted. If I was being honest, she deserved far more than that.

"But, what about our situation. Won't the school report this to the Superintendent or something?"

Her hands released from their folded rest and gripped her wine glass with a heartwarming zest. "Fuck the superintendent. No one cares about one renegade. Besides, there are university courses you can start in the summer or fall. You could be qualified to be a surgeon by 19."

Typically, exaggerations were something I judged people upon, and had fun with too. But like me, mom was the exception to many of my social approach. Especially in this case. With that in mind, I sipped from my mason jar. Nowadays, we recycled nearly everything we could, even conversations.

There was still another matter to be discussed before we cleaned our small table and went to shower. I almost wish I hadn't brought it up because of how happy she looked. Even if she didn't hate me for tearing away the celebration to reveal the reality behind it, I would still feel ashamed. When your mother not only raises you, but defends you from every other human being in your life, whose attempt at cynicism was laughable, you cannot help but feel a dose of guilt. Rarely did anyone make me feel like my nature was a curse. But my parents often did, and the most conflicting part was, I didn't blame them. And I didn't blame them for giving into my urge to call attention to the worst plague upon our family.

"What about dad?"

*

4

"So as I was saying, Kathy, Samantha and her little pat have basically considered you a student at this point. No longer a friend. What do you say to that?"

"First off, it's Kate not Kathy. And second, I say they've figured out a truth that is as old and depthless as the epitaph on the Common building."

"Low blow insulting our esteemed founder."

"Well, you're attempt at dating me isn't exactly inspired either. A matter of fact, your lack of inspiration is your problem. And lack of tact. You know that."

"Excuse me? You think I'm not inspiring?"

"Despite your attire, accent, appearance, and loose personality, you give no one real confidence."

"Says the girl who won't do me a favor."

"What's that?"

"Glad you asked finally. As you're well aware, Dr. Blake has been under a great deal of pressure. And I'm don't mean the sort that pays big or puts banquets on the table. On the contrary, he and I eat from Burger King's now, in silence I might add. And he fucking hates waiters, they just mismatch the coffee and don't give him enough fries. But to my surprise, I saw him these past few days just sign the check. He signs it as deferentially as he would water the plants or something."

"What the flying fuck are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about what's got my dad so stiff he barely has the energy to go to work pants on."

"...what?"

"It's your mother. He told me yesterday after I asked, tacitly I may add, that your mothers sick and he's not sure if he can give her the treatment. What disease and why, don't got a clue. But its turned all smiles upside down, including mine."

"My mother's cold was simply Covid. She should be recovered now. Why is she going back now?"

*

Symbolism: houses are unique but all lonely and no one appreciates inner beauty (like her)

(ravens indicate doom)

After his Death

5

The car is pulled beside Carter street. It was like any other urban composition. Appealing geometrical houses on one side with lush pines and willows on the other which seemed to give the illusion that one was standing between civilization and the untamed forest. I think that's the first time I felt that way.

Out the window, I could see all the brown leaves blanketing the lawns and streets, but the houses stood on ceremony all the same. The closest to me, a house with a foot thick glass awning protruding from its front, and the roof tilting in three different directions, caught my eye. Something that disappointed you was how echoic the material ornamentation estates were in this city. Hellenistic and brilliantly unconventional the deigns were at first, once inspired by the asymmetry that mesmerized agents and owners alike, now architects rarely innovated beyond their uninhibited imaginations. I'd wanted to become an architect when I was younger, the passion fueled by lego sets and visits to regal homes of my mother's friends. I had the vision, but I worried that with age, my imagination would either be considered outdated or I'd simply morph into another fast dealing minimalist. Falling back into single file, only on a grander scale.

But I was still a child. I had some time. Or so I wished.

I didn't want to think of how long I'd been waiting in the car. I'd never waited before but dignity demanded it now. Pressing my head against the furnaced unpolished window, I got a view of the grey sky. When I was much younger, and I faced a choice where I could either beg my mom to take me home or allow boredom to do its work, I took notice of the room or environment with all its contents. As I began to allow the diegetic noise to fly through me, my sight captured a trio of ravens looming like the proverbial birds of doom they were.

My father once said that Ravens hold a special place among the animal kingdom. They steal only what is discarded by humankind and only protect themselves. Despite their physical meekness in contrast to the more ferocious birds of prey, they have an arcane wisdom. One which is so poignant that they refuse to share it with any other species. This, according to him, was why the cawed hoarsely at the death of their kin, perched from high places, and watched us with promised entertainment.

Regardless of his conjecture, watching them allowed uneasiness to sink into me as the light flashed green.

I turned my head to face the red brick home. The most mundane one in sight. I wanted to cry. I wanted to leave. I just wanted it all to fade.

*

Hi. Do you want to lift and talk or do one before the other or just sweat in front of me.

First off, it's water. I'm a swimmer. I thought you knew everything about me.

Clearly not enough. I never saw you on the team.

I'm not. I've taken the liberty of keeping it secret even from the teachers so you'd be oblivious.

Clever.

And second, this is a weight room for athletes like myself. This place is for those with nerves of steel. Not for goldbrick's like you. And third, the fact that I'm stronger than you is a testament to how insignificant you are in the eyes of others.

That's a strange way to phrase it.

I'm phrasing is the one thing you do better than anyone else. Twisting the truth, asking ulterior questions, and prying into people's lives like mine.

Finished?

Could ask you the same thing.

Far from it. I've come to ask you something.

Can it wait.

Sorry, but this matter outmatches you in impatience. I assure you.

Ugh. Alright, let's walk and talk.

*

DURING THE CIONFLICT"S HIEGHT

THIS IS WHEN THEY FIGHT

During the time when I was being ushered through a transitional period that I detest with fiber of my being, my frustration and fear were all the rage. I channeled it into bold steps upon the granite walk. Decades of experience and nothing could damage it. My hand instinctively caressed the fresh line along my left cheek where I was hit. I had gotten scars before but this one, despite its lack of blood, ran deeper.

I stopped at the curb, where one road across the forest meets the town. Me neck stretched up to the pale screen and traced it back to the buildings I was next to. My house was several streets back southeast but that wasn't where I was going.

It was after school and the four hour hiatus until dinner began. This forest was national, which meant that anyone any age could come here, scream their feelings for the world, practice athletics or even take a shit behind the bushes. But it only took me the first six visits to find my slice of sanctuary. A large weeping willow with crevices like ravines that cut into my back in a furious passion, and whose plaque reminded me that it stood on these grounds since before mom was born. Unlike most trees, its trunks were low and twisted symmetrically with each other. No matter the season, the grass that hung from its fingertips was always rich and green.

I was grateful for the days when it would shield me from the rain, gnat inviting sunlight, and children who never got under the lush bewhiskered overhang before their parents said they were too young to climb it. I pitied them. I was grateful for days during the summer when the confines of my bedroom and plethora of youtube videos would not satisfy, and the only antidote was the presence of century old nature.

But mostly I was grateful for it during the fights. Typically the argument was contained so that it rang through our house and to me room, but the neighbors got a good night sleep. But when the late night spectaculars occurred, I slipped out the front door, taking my laptop, purely for the sake of studying, and followed the three block route to the site.

All this time, pouring my time into my solitude, and I never felt lonely. On the worst days whether had to offer, I had a knack for eavesdropping, but largely, the call to nature was infinitely more powerful than the call for revelation or surprise. Speaking of which-

"Hello Kate not Kathy."

I jumped to my feet at the unapologetic and playful voice of my pretentious classmate. He emerged from behind a shrubbery with his signature hairstyle, a sight so fictional any spectator would be reaching for their cell phones.

"I do sincerely hope you greet all people this way." I said assuming an expected posture.

He made his way next to me, arms extending like a showman, eyes broadening. Then he stood near me and clasped his hands together, rubbing them as if to preserve a special warmth underneath the sun.

"So how is he? Your dad I mean."

In a flash his smile was gone. I assumed not a glare, not even a frown, but a resigned smirk, where only the left side of his cheek showed dimples. His hands shoved into his pockets as he straightened his spine and faced the woods. Maybe a part of me felt sorry for the brutal transparency of my question, standing there thinking I was above him in all respects, but if there was, I didn't notice.

"Funny you're the one asking the questions. Let alone the most obvious and personal one."

The was no change in cadence, but I could tell he was trying his best to make it as sinuous and forlorn as possible. But more importantly, I neglected to recognize a flaw in my approach. After getting used to him knowing what exit door I'd use, what people I sat with, it was habitual to deflect his attempts at penetrating my privacy and get to the point. Now we stood opposite roles, a situation that would hopefully change in the course of mere minutes. But his reticent advance to me seemed to imply otherwise.

"Jumping to conclusions. There, you've got your first piece of dirt on me."

He twisted his head and wrinkled his furrows.

"Well since you've brought the admiral up, he's fine. Business is...viable. So what ypou doing here?"

I didn't break away from the forest. "I'm waiting for my mom. And there's room for only one of us."

To my uttermost bewilderment he chuckled. My gaze fell from the forest and onto his crooked grin. It wasn't the sort that one gives after hearing a knock-knock joke or while kissing a girl. It was self depreciating and somewhat piercing. But after a split second relaxed.

"That's what my mom and dad say to each other. Matter a fact- what time is it, 3:34. Yeah they should be saying it in 'bout three hours. Hopefully I'll be with the gang by then."

I could not imagine what 'gang' he referred to. But whatever self absorbed circle he sass mouthed his way into, I was sure they had to be older than me.

"So.... all quiet on the western front, hm?"

I thought back to earlier. "Your sense of direction and sound are on point, I'll say. But I'm really just waiting here."

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed his hands wringing untold amounts of red shade into his skin. But his face, still stoned, bore no sign of physical distress.

"You know, K-Kate. The forest is a big place, but its not bigger than this town. I get it, I dive outside this place that makes pasta-Lombardo's. But when I got bored of the smell, I just decided that the bedroom was more at home. Lots of shouting and chores aplenty to do, but these past weeks, its given me a new sense of reality. Now do I believe in shit like epiphanies, no. But I think this is more of a, transitional period. We all go through them. And we need guys like the Fast and Furious boys I'm with now. Shit, they're like the most dunderheadest of dunderheads."

With the unwanted knowledge of the gang he was with, I looked squarely at him. Then, against my typical covert nature, I said, "Your parents argue lot? Mine never did. I guess that left a good mark on both of them just before my dad died. Now, its just too much silence. But its familiar, and it has that sense of structure. I might be a rogue but I need some order. Everyone does."

It was after I stopped talking that I noticed his smile returning. Seconds before, it was oblivious to me that I had poured out my most recent sentiments to a boy who annoyed people to kingdom come, and yet it felt releasing. A great stone block was lifted from my chest and was being shared by another. And even though I was still as pessimistic as ever, I didn't mind it.

He didn't seem to either and he took two steps closer.

I was certain he'd say something

"Nicest thing you've ever said. See you round."

And with that he left. and he didn't look back as I crossed the street.

*

It's bad enough knowing that your parents split, but even worse when you had a part to play in it. Sad thing is, I was upset about the wrong thing.

Yeah that's what I mean, Thomas Blake. You're telling me he's more famous than Fleming? Somehow doubt that he's no different than any other doctor in the next hospital, or clinic, or office, or wherever they live.

I'm serious. This guy is city famous and he's never gotten a shitty star in his life. Forget my mom's praise, I've heard it from every patient there. My own personal Blake homestead insight has shown that he's kept sober five years to be on the safe side. Literally, this man lives to fuck with diseases.

Well with the amount of people he sees, surely he can't be that expensive. Else, no one would be living here. They'd all be crossing the border.

Hey, I'm no psychologist. I'm just a wisenheimer who knows more than one ought to here.

You shouldn't say that out loud. Even to me.

Shit, like you're going to tell mommy.

Don't act like we're that familiar. It wasn't two weeks ago that I discovered her dirty little secret.

Not all of it apparently. And that's what I was getting at. So Da-Dr. Blake, or Thomas as you know him, has been seeing my mother for some time now. Even lended me the car for school. But then I have to see her come out those doors looking yellow with dread. But she's still holding up, physically and financially that is. I'm still in the dark as to how.

So is she actually sick?

His prognosis is that based on the prevailing cancer, which has by now reached stage three out of five, without the operation she'll have two months max before it reaches the threshold. It was only after I spent an uncomfortable amount of time lurking around her that she revealed it totals to 40000 dollars.

Shi- So will she have enough.

That really depends on how much we're willing to lose. And that's going to be infinitely more hard given our...situation.

Yeah.

What?

You call it 'our' problem now. So true.

*

The hospital is bleak

You know,

I walked away but as I did, I could sense it. The warmth of something familiar complementing the coldness with which met this new feeling. Beneath his defeated face lied an insatiable desire to punch me in the face.

I pitied him.

I awoke and was breathless. It took my an entire minute before I became aware of my surroundings. Folded chairs in the corner and a piano to my left. It was covered by an obsidian blanket but the keyboard emerged from underneath it, as if someone had been too sloth or too hasty to remove it. Could have been me.

I did not remember what I had done last. Only that I was distant from this place. A dream that I choose to last for longer than it should have until now it had become something else entirely.

I eagerly wished to run my hands along the ground with all its lint and gloss. It reminded me of how I once wished my life had been. Flawless and simple. After flexing my abductors in my fingers, I leapt to my feet toward the piano. The cover bristled my fingers, a perfect antithesis to the floor I felt before. Of their own accord my hands found their way to the keyboard and hit a low hum. The sound seemed to give the room aesthetic and elation and simultaneously, show me that the room lacked both.

The room was dark. But until the music awoke me, I felt as though I was standing in an eternal light that could not be silenced by electricity. It would not whisper a sweet nothing to its owner and fade until the next night. This light came to my hour of need and not the time that the owner designated it. Disobedience. A quality so potent it retrieved some lost memories, or feelings.

The light followed me around the room as I continued my search for tangibility. It didn't take long for me to find the draped walls. After cataloguing the soothing sensuous feeling of the curtains, I turned attention to the window. It was black. Nothing to see., and no light crept from beneath its blackness.

I was still unsatisfied. Empty when I should have felt ecstatic. Surveyed when I should have felt private. Scared when I should have felt safe.