Silverlighters (revised version as I edit)

12

              12

My father was training when I got home. His body was covered in sweat, and his hair stuck to his forehead in stringy clumps.

He punched the red and white boxing bag hanging from the ceiling. A series of quick, furious jabs.

“What are you doing home?” he puffed, putting a hand up to stop the bag from swinging.

“They let us leave after the memorial service,” I said. I didn’t mention we were told to leave after the scene we caused, and there was no way I was telling my father what I suspected.

I was still trying to make sense of it.

Besides – he already knew. He just neglected to tell me.

If I told him, he would make us leave, and I might never get the answers I needed.

My father nodded, taking a closer look at me. “Get your gear on.”

“What? Now? No. I’m not in the mood,” I said.

“It’ll do you good.”

“No – I know what will do me good.”

He raised a brow.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

He punched the bag, then kicked it.

I ran up to my room and slammed the door, breathing hard. But within minutes I had changed my mind, and pulled my black tights and my purple gym top on. I grabbed my old faithfuls – black canvas sneakers – out of the wardrobe, almost cutting the circulation off as I yanked at the laces.

I knew it would do me good. I always felt better after training. Calmer. Clearer. And I needed to be clear when I met Jonathon.

My father and I spent the next few hours in a flurry of punches and kicks. No thinking – just reacting.

“Come on,” my father growled, sweat flying as he flicked his dark hair out of his eye. “You’re not even trying.”

I realized what he was doing. He saw the anger in my face. Was giving me the release I so desperately needed.

But I resisted.

I knew what would come when the anger broke.

We moved through the house, my father dodging every punch. Every kick. Even the swing of the broom handle and the heavy telephone directory as I went freestyle, grabbing anything I could get my hands on.

I felt my body loosening up. The workout became tense, savage.

All the while my father was shouting at me. Taunting me. Telling me to let it all out.

“Come on.” He bounced back and forth. Daring me to hit him.

I turned, my leg swinging. A round-house kick meant to connect with his head.

He blocked it with the side of his arm. “Is that all you’ve got? Thought I taught you better than that.”

I completely lost it then. I was like a wild animal. Turning my body, I swung my knee up and out, a short sharp kick to the side that was never meant to connect. My father tried to block it, but he wasn’t expecting me to pull back at the last minute, aiming a little higher so that my foot connected with his shoulder.

I pushed off, hard, using the momentum to propel me as I brought my leg back in, and twisted my body, spinning. Swinging my leg around into a thumping good spinning back kick.

The heel of my foot connected with his belly, and he bent forward, the air gushing out of him.

I stood there, panting, my breathing jagged as he caught his breath.

He nodded his head, a slow smile curling the corner of his lip. And I couldn’t help but be pleased by the gleam of approval I saw in his eye.

And so it continued, both of us beating away our inner demons. The need to connect with solid flesh, to feel alive, unhealthy and all consuming.

My father suddenly stopped, running a towel across his face. “I’m going for a shower. The news will be on soon.”

I wasn’t done. Nowhere near it.

I wiped the sweat from my forehead with the back of my arm. My hair hung in my face in thin, damp tendrils and I was panting like a dog.

Then I saw that the shadows outside the window were getting longer. The sky was beginning to darken.

“Fine. I need a shower anyway.” I pushed past him, running for my room.

I kicked the bedroom door closed and waited until I heard the shower come on. I locked the door, and turned my music up as high as it would go.

I had to hurry. I didn’t have long – but there was one thing I could count on. My father didn’t move when the news was on.

Pushing open the huge bay windows, I stood on the seat. I felt kind of stupid wearing my training gear, but there was no time to change.

I took a deep breath, raised my arms, and with my feet planted firmly on the window seat, I leaned forward, letting gravity do the rest.

The branch was only a short distance away, just below me, and I easily latched onto it. As soon as I had it, I pushed lightly with my feet, swinging out, my body curving.

I dropped lightly to the ground, glad of my dark clothing, and the soft tread of my rubber soles as I ran, gasping for breath.

Until I saw the candles flickering ahead of me outside the Pizza Parlor.

I slowed, when I really wanted to keep running. But somehow it seemed wrong not to stop. Not to look at the photographs of Chris plastered across the newly-replaced window.

The wilting flowers and teddy bears piled on the ground. The envelopes with his name on them tucked in wherever they’d fit. The candles lining the wooden ledge of the window frame.

I felt a sob threaten to rise, and clamped a hand to my mouth, as though I could hold it back.

I hurried towards the park. I could feel it building. Because he didn’t have to die. They could have stopped it.

The thought was more than I could bear.

I heard a branch crack behind me.

I turned, my wobbly smile forced.

Only it wasn’t Jonathon. It was him – his silver eyes gleaming in the darkening night.

He stepped back. He hadn’t meant for me to see him.

“Why?” I asked, my voice husky. The tears I’d been fighting welling in my eyes.

He stopped, his face torn at my anguish. I didn’t realize why then. That I knew him. That I’d always known him. That I always would.

I had no idea our lives were forever intertwined in ways I couldn’t possibly imagine.

He continued to move back, his strange silvery eyes filled with pain.

Something inside me threatened to crumble, to break apart. I was teetering on the fragile edge of reason.

“Why didn’t you save him, too?” this time it was a scream, my voice breaking, my arms dropping helplessly to my sides.

It happened so fast. Within a heartbeat.

He was kneeling in front of me, his breath so close I could feel it. As though he’d moved time and space in order to get to me.

But by then I was no longer thinking. I was reacting. My fists hitting and punching at him as he drew me closer.

“Why?” I choked the word out, the tears still coming.

His silver eyes flashed as he looked up, his expression changing.

And just as suddenly I was in his arms and we were no longer on the ground.

We were nestled in the hollow of an enormous tree, in that magical place where the thick limbs of the branches met, as though it had been designed especially for us.

It just felt so right, so familiar, being in his arms.

I felt as though I had finally come home.