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Under The Apple Tree

"If you haven't been home in a month, where have you been sleeping?" I questioned further.

"Wherever I feel. If I'm close to the beach, I sleep on the beach. If I'm close to the bowling alley, I sleep in the bowling alley. If I'm close to your house, I sleep under this tree." Jim seemed to be answering my questions with some reluctance. I didn't want to hurt him, so I stopped asking questions.

"Regina, why are you so interested in me? How do I fascinate you? Why did you look for me all that time?" Jim asked. I felt glad to be able to answer one of his questions.

"Because you are special, Jim Harrison. You see things no one else sees. You hear things no one else hears. You know the world, inside and out. You're the boogeyman, the medicine man, the town nutcase, the lunatic and you are my only friend."

Jim smiled. I melted on the inside.

"Regina, you're my only friend, too. Did you know that?" I shook my head.

"You are. I don't know what I saw when you hit me with your head, but I'm glad I saw it."

I blushed a little. It was one of my most brilliant screw-ups ever.

"I have to go soon, Regina. You do, too. We can't lay under this tree all night." I checked my watch. More time had passed than I thought could be possible. I didn't want this time together to be cut short by a trivial thing like light.

"Sure, we can. My parents are out. We can sleep under the branches under the stars. No one can tell us not to."

"In that case, we'll sleep here. You and I together. We'll be like the two first humans. Sleeping among the animals, out in the wilderness." Jim seemed to like the idea, but he might just have been humoring me. You never could tell with Jim. I nodded and scooched closer. We were hugging each other in the night, under the tree.

I woke up in the cold, wet grass. Jim was still there, sleeping peacefully. His breathing was slow, and rhythmic. He didn't snore, his nose didn't whistle, but you could hear every breath. The sun hadn't yet risen, so I closed my eyes and tried to sync my breathing with his. In and out, in and out, in and out. Everything was calm, the birth of a new day. The day was still pure and innocent, a virgin day. It would be corrupted before the sun rose. Jim was starting to rub off onto me, I realized. I smiled to myself and looked at him. He was curled slightly on his left side, facing me. His arms were bent in front of his chest, as if reaching for something. I leaned up and propped myself on my right elbow. It was oddly satisfying to watch him sleep. Not in a stalker-esque way, though. I turned myself so that the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes would be me. Perhaps I was harboring a stalker tendency. He was just so calm, so tranquil. The sun was just about to rise. I could see it over the houses. Jim's eyes fluttered open.

"Good morning, Jim. Did you sleep well?" I whispered.

"Better than when I'm sleeping alone. Have you been up for a while?" he whispered back.

"A few minutes." I lied. I had been up for an hour. Two at the most.

Jim sat up and stretched. His hair was tousled and full of grass. I knee-walked over and sat behind him. I started picking out the grass. Jim tensed for a moment, then relaxed. We sat there in silence, me picking out the individual blades of grass, him sitting perfectly motionless.

"Thank you, Regina." Jim said, as I was picking out the grass.

"For what? Picking out the blades of grass from your hair?" I asked. My tongue started inching out of my mouth in concentration, as I looked for the grass, without messing his hair up more than it already was.

"Yes. For being sweet and caring. For realizing the mistakes of the world before you were crudely pulled into them. For not giving up on me when I left. For being my friend."

Feeling satisfied of my work, I knee-walked to Jim's right, like how we were sitting the night before. I sat on my knees, feeling the wetness of the early morning grass through my jeans, although it was somewhat subdued because we were under a tree.

"Jim, if I had to look for a hundred years, I probably wouldn't have stopped. You are probably the only one on this whole, messed-up planet who sees things as they really are." I insisted. Jim shook his head.

"Anyone can see things the way they are. Most people do. What most people don't do, however is develop all their senses. Blake considered the senses the 'windows of the soul'. The body is the soul's prison unless all the senses are fully developed and open. I just have a lot of soul open and free."

I considered his statement for a moment.

"Jim, how do you open your senses?"

"The foremost and easiest way is through sex. I guess to open your senses, you have to listen to what each one is telling you at all hours of the day and night. You have to see, smell, touch, taste and hear everything. If you do that, you realise things others didn't, haven't and won't. Do you remember the sound the ocean was making, that day we were at the beach? The smell it released every time the waves receded? If you take the time to notice that, eventually your senses will be open." Jim explained. I was truly fascinated. Maybe Jim stayed in the wilderness to open his senses. Either that or he was trying to get me interested so we would have sex to 'open our senses'. Whatever he was doing, it was working. I was interested. I wanted my senses open, to release my soul from the prison that is my body.