The Last Flameling of Solnis

Speak

"Isaiah," she calls just as he nears the archway to their side of the house. "You just got home. Sit down and have some lamb chops. Besides, Shiloh has been waiting all day to talk to us about something important to him."

"That's right. I'm sorry Shi," dad apologizes as he returns to the table. He sits down to his plate and stirs the juices of his lamb into his mashed potatoes.

"Nah. It's ok. In fact, your thing seems more important. Mine can wait," I try to push off my anxiety fueling news.

"No it can't," dad cuts almost angrily, but his finger tapping next to his plate tells me it's his haste. "You've been waiting all day. Come on. Tell us,"

"It's not a big deal, really," I start, distracting my trembling hands by cutting tender lamb from the bone. "There's just someone I like at school. Like a lot. And I just wanted to tell you guys. I know I've dated girls before, but—"

"But this one is serious," dad finishes for me. There's something about his eyes that says 'that better be what you were about to say'. It's a familiar glare I know well. It shows up whenever my he seeks to push me. To mold me. "You think this could be your first real love?"

"Yeah," I admit as I think of weekends sneaking out an hour away to New Vine with Keon to meet his eclectic friends. Just to dance in a place where I'm a nobody and be free for a night.

"So who is she?" Dad assumes, and my vibrant memories of techno and house music dissolves as I'm steeped in my reality. I push the droplets of lamb juices that decorate my plate into my mountain of mashed potatoes no longer feeling hungry, but forced to front.

I think to tell them of Keon in my own way. To describe him as a girl that makes me feel whole. Someone who reminds me that I'm not just some rich, football playing, legacy kid living at the top of Black Hills. Someone who reminds me of my sensitivities and teaches me to be passionate about carving out my own path in life. But with parents like them, it would go against their plans for me.

"Yeah Shi. We want to hear all about her. Ooh no wait. Let me guess. It's Celeste isn't it?" Mom tries to push the same girl she's been pushing on me since she arrived in town. They take turns talking her up without a care for my own thoughts.

"Celeste McCoy? Turner and Sophia's daughter? Oh she's a good girl son," dad starts.

"And she's so beautiful. Her skin's so rich and dark. Her melanin alone makes her a queen worth marrying."

"And just like your mother she's smart. She's got some serious goals too. Her dad once said she wanted to be a—"

"Brain surgeon. Yeah I know." I cut across him for once, for a single win, but I just talk myself into a trap.

"Oh so it is her," he laughs and lights up as he sips on his bitter Chianti.

No. She's just only said it's her dream job since she moved here in freshman year, I backtalk and roll my eyes in the safety of my mind because I'll probably never be too old to get slapped if I push them far enough.

Still I want to say something aloud, if not the truth. Something to take back control of this conversation because I feel in a way I'm being trolled by them.

"Does it matter this much who I date?" I wonder as I force down homemade mashed potatoes. I feel all my nerve, and the anticipation of hearing some choice words, falter as I start a cowardly retreat from honesty.

"If you're anything like your father, which I think you will be, yes. And Celeste will be good for you. She'll balance you and be your peace like I am with your father. She'll be able to save you from yourself when you find yourself faltering. The two of you together is a power that will allow you two to survive and thrive in this world son. And that's all we want for you."

"But how do you know for sure she's the one?" I try one last time to go with my feelings. To not give in to their desires to keep them happy. "It's such a big place for a small town. How can you keep up with so many people here?"

"Your father and I are well connected Shiloh. When I became a lawyer, which I hope you'll still consider as a back up plan for your sports dreams, it opened up our world to me. We know nearly everyone here and many people beyond our small town."

"Wow," dad sighs with a mixed look growing across his face. "My son is really growing up. Soon enough you'll be going pro, getting married, and giving your mom and I grandbabies. Babe do you truly think they'll be compatible? There's still some things we'd have to find out, right?" My dad requires, but his words start to feel like code, his raised eyebrows a signal.

"Don't worry. I'm always doing my part," she returns to him encrypted words of her own. It's like they know the truth, but they want what they want. So much so, they'll go after it right in front of me as if I'm just a means to an end.

"Dad don't get all sentimental," I laugh and smile, frustration for them hiding behind my grinning mask.

"Oh Shi, don't tease your father," mom joins. "You know how important lineage and legacy is to your father and I."

I thought it would take coming out to have this particular burden of guilt thrown onto me. It's not even needed. I see it in the big, empty rooms down the hall from mine. It's even here at a table for ten where only three are seated.

"Yes. I know mom. I'm sorry," I express as I meet their gazes. "I only meant don't worry. I'm only fifteen. There's still plenty time to worry about legacy and lineage. Anything can happen." I soothe them, while still digging my heels into hope for my own life.

"Well the clock of time is relative to the hands of fate," dad retorts, that bittersweet look holding steady in his eyes. Then dad's phone rings. He looks at the number and silences it. "With that being said, I'm proud of you Shiloh. Morgan. Let's talk now please."

My mom and dad break from the table and retreat to their study. I finish eating and silently go to clean the dishes left behind. I could load the dishwasher, but I choose to clean the few dishes by hand and listen to Paradise by MNEK.

Just as my hands dip into waters of the past, I find myself back in the present, a blue flame still ignited all around me.

It's another one that doesn't burn. In fact there's a deep chill on the room unlike any flame I've seen before, but at this point it doesn't surprise me. It just leaves me with more questions.

The dark of night has now seeped into the windows of my bathroom. Dustin stands there mid walk, his jaw slightly agape in the frame of the doorway.

"I'm not a faggot," I repeat as I pull my hands from now icy waters. My blue flame begins to draw down and Dustin begins to reanimate. I inhale deep as the core of me races. The smoke of his breathe from the cold flame disappears as he closes his mouth. "I'm just gay."

I say those words aloud and inside it feels like running through the grass in a warm summer rain. It tastes like burnt marshmallows and smells like the smoke of the crackling wood it cooks on.

"Is there a difference?" Dustin tries as his hands rub the chill off his bare arms. He looks around bewildered as he approaches me.

"Is there a difference between a nigger and a black person?" I ask rhetorically.

"Touché," he cedes. "But this isn't over Shi. You got a lot of things to answer for. 'Specially those blue flames I saw? The ones from the video? And how is it nighttime already Shi? I came here this morning."

"I don't know," I give honestly. All this time I've never understood these fiery moments, I've just learned to cope with and conceal them.

"I'd like to think that I could answer that," a new voice calls from the comfort of my bed. He sits there shrouded in darkness all casual and relaxed. There's a small, red, flashing light near where his head must be and his pale fingers stretch into the moonlight as they run over my silky gray throw blanket. "But first someone must die."