Keeping Things Whole [ON HOLD]

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

My guitar hums under my fingers, the strings quivering as my hand slides up and down its mahogany neck. The steady, familiar tune vibrates through me and I can’t help murmuring the lyrics softly as I finish the opening chords. Gran’s out to the grocery store and I can be alone to vent all over my guitar without breaking anybody’s eardrums with my mediocre singing. I close my eyes and let my mind wander. I remember when I was a kid, before Dad’s promotion. Before life happened and shit got real, I guess. He wasn’t always a total prick; at least, I don’t think he was.

“Hey, daddy, look, my tongue’s blue!”

He laughed, peering into my gaping, gap-toothed mouth. “It sure is.”

I ate another spoonful of snow cone and shuddered. “Brain freeze!” I glanced over at him, impatient. “Dad, when’s it going to start?”

As if by command, I felt the Ferris wheel shudder beneath us and the spokes beginning to move. Startled, I scrambled across our little both and jumped onto his lap, holding his knees tight.

“It’s okay, Shy,” he chuckled, peering out the window. “We’re safe in here. See? We’re starting to go up, now.”

I still didn’t leave him, though my grip loosened and shifted to his free arm instead. My eyes were wide, taking in the fair as it slowly grew smaller and smaller, our little cabin going higher and higher. The evening air was brisk and smelled like the ocean. “Daddy, how high are we?”

 I felt his chin rest upon the crown of my head, and giggled as his stubble tickled my scalp. “However high you want it to be, kiddo.”

My mouth went wide as the sun dipped low and the stars winked on, white little pinpricks of light amongst all the nothing. I reached out and touched the plastic window, my breath fogging the pane. “I wish there was a shooting star.”

“Why?”

“So I could wish for something, silly,” I said.

“And what would you wish for, Shy?”

            “I’d wish that you’d never have to work again. We’d be able to go to the fair ad the park every day, and you could teach me to throw the football like you promised.”

            I glanced over at him; his graying brows were knitted. “You know I have to take that new job, Shiloh. We need the money.”

            I lean back against his chest and hold his hands tighter. “But I miss you, daddy!”

             My fingers stop and I sigh, run a hand through my hair. That was ten years ago. I haven’t been called ‘Shy’ in so long…

            Suddenly, the edges of my vision begin to blur and I freeze.

No.

No!

            Everything goes stiff. I can’t move my hands, my fingers, my toes. No, no, this can’t be happening again, not while Gran’s gone! My guitar falls from my hands and bounces on the carpet. I try to breath deeply, try to tell myself, “Shiloh, be a man; don’t let this seizure make you it’s bitch.”

            …It doesn’t work.

            And just like that, it hits. Everything starts shaking and thrashing, like I’ve been kicked out of my own body and forced to watch as its system goes haywire. I fall off the side of my bed, feeling a rush of pain as I land badly on my shoulder. That isn’t enough to make it stop, though. I convulse as my nerves and limbs go crazy, my body shuddering and quivering, and I’m so scared. This one’s even worse than the first one, I know it.