Controlling the Elements

by N. R. Spratlin

  Wow, I forgot how sexy she is when she’s pissed.

  Dillon finally looks directly at me only to glare one last time then high tails it away from us. I can’t help but watch her cute ass as she goes.

  When I look back to Flint he’s rubbing his hands from his face then to his hair trying to keep a grip on his sanity. I rub my eyes more.

  "Look man—," I start but he cuts me off.

  "—Nuh nuh. Zip it Zep." He huffs as he looks around, his eyes haunted. "Why me?" He asks to no one in particular.

  "I'll fix it," I say softly, still not quite understanding what had just happened. “At least that made it without shattering everywhere. Less to clean up!” I nod in the direction of the pane of glass on the ground trying to sound cheery. He turns, and walks towards it. Crouching down, he begins to inspect it. With a huff, he starts to lift it only for the bottom half to drop out, smashing to the ground.

  Through clenched teeth he mutters darkly, "Damn right you will and you will tell me the rest of the story, because a woman doesn’t just act like that from being hurt over a high school love." He marches off; shoulders slumped, muttering in Russian incoherently under his breath.

  He is right he does deserve the rest.

  I nod my head in agreement though he doesn’t see it and wonder if he would finally let me have a beer now.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “There has to be a connection, but what?” - Dillon

  Dillon

  The nerve of him! How dare he? What is he doing in town? How does he know that bar owner?

  I pace back and forth in my foyer, anger coursing so strongly that it feels like it’s bubbling through my veins. I finally understand the phrase 'seeing red'. After all this time with Zephyr Aleksander being a ghost in mine and Lyon's life, I end up running into him at the bar, the very bar I have been freaking out about. So freaked in fact that last night I was twisting and turning in bed unable to sleep, feeling really guilty as I wonder if I was the one to have demolished the bar or not.

  I know the destructive things that have been happening around me lately feels almost at random, but the more I think about it and dig deeper into every interaction I’ve had when things have gone haywire, the more it seems not quite so random. I can't seem to wrap my mind around a specific situation and it’s unnerving me. There were too many to choose from. Each time there has been someone around. Those certain someone’s being the hot new strangers I keep meeting.

  There has to be a connection, but what?

  I blink and focus back on my surroundings. Hmm, when did that happen?

  My subconscious must have decided that the foyer was getting a little too monotonous in the scenery, because I’m now in the kitchen standing in front of the fridge with door open, peering at its limited contents without really seeing anything. I sigh, shutting it.

  I really need to get a grip.

  I turn around and look for my overly large purse sitting on top of the light brown counter. I used to carry just a wallet with the necessities, but since looking after Lyon, I soon came to realize, that I need much more than just a simple wallet in my back pocket. So, unfortunately, I have gone from a simple lipstick kind of girl, to a bonified maniac of a sort of mom.

  When I reach the offensively large bag, I pull out a package of tissues, a bottle of water, my wallet, a spare cell phone charger, my Kindle, and one of Lyon's action figures.

  Seriously, where is it? Maybe I should refer to this as my Mary Poppins's bag, because it seems bottomless.

  I spread the opening wider, but have no luck. So, I decide to tip the whole thing upside down, watching as loads of bits and pieces fall to the counter. After a few more seconds of rummaging through the large pile, finding empty candy wrappers, some sticky stuff that I’m really hoping is indeed from a melted candy, used tissues, sand and other weird stuff, I finally find what I’ve been searching for. I extract it out and smile; a small bottle of vodka.

  Earlier, I had gone to the bar in hopes of apologizing properly to Flint, and since I detected the hint of what appears to be a Russian accent, and plus the name of his bar, I figured he would appreciate the gesture. Or at least may have done, considering its small and cheap, and he probably has this in a larger bottle.

  It really is too bad I had to run out before it got cracked open. I guess I could always bring another bottle to him at a later date?

  I need something to settle my nerves a bit, but I’m second guessing my choice of opening the vodka. I sit it down next to my bag and go to check the fridge again to see if I have any wine, I would drink a small glass of that if I did. I open the fridge, looking high and low and unable to see any of my glorious red sitting on the shelves. I sigh, closing the fridge again, putting my forehead against its cool surface.

  Well, that answers it, vodka it is.

  I move away to grab a shot glass from the small upper pantry that sits just above the hood vent of my stove. I glance at the time on the white microwave which is to my right; I have exactly twenty minutes to get my shit under control before Lyon gets back from lunch with his tee ball team. I smirk, thinking at how the moms have been treating me lately. I guess I’m now worthy of respect and kindness because of that horrible event where I was the only level-headed adult on the field looking after their panicked, frightened children. They give me all big smiles and perfumed hugs when they see me now, always asking after Lyon and me. I roll my eyes. It’s sad that it took something as traumatic as that to finally make an effort with me. Although, I have to admit, I’m glad they are acknowledging my existence now. I feel a little less like a leper even if I’m still the main topic of conversation, but at least it’s more in a positive light now. In all honestly, I’m also glad that they insisted for me to not worry about the snack rotation for the past few weeks, that it was their way of thanking me.

  I pick the bottle back up, cracking the seal, and pouring myself a shot.

  I hope it tastes good, because vodka is not my first choice. But, desperate times call for desperate measures and all that.

  I take a deep breath in preparation so I can hold it long enough to get through the burn, then tip the small glass to my lips, and chug down the contents. I cough, spluttering some of it.

  Oh wow, this is definitely the good stuff!

  I pick up the bottle again trying to read the label, but unable to because it’s in Russian. I instantly feel it warm my stomach, spreading to the rest of my body like a warm hug surrounding me.

  Within five minutes of staring at the bottle, thinking about insufficient things, I finally feel the effect of the alcohol numbing my brain; my body starts to relax.

  I’m glad it isn’t a powerful overhaul; it’s more like a smooth caress over my senses and nerves. Stroking them like someone would a scared cat, until I finally feel my emotions are in check if not a little muffled and numb. I screw the cap back on and put the bottle in the fridge, assuming I need to keep it cold. That automatic relaxation could become addictive, and that is not something I want to toy with.

  I scratch my nose, while my mind involuntarily jumps back to when I saw Zep at the bar. I couldn’t place what was off about him at the time, but the most prominent thing was the smell; he reeked of stale alcohol. That both confuses and aggravates me. The Zephyr I knew did not drink to get drunk. Hell, he barely drank alcohol at all. If anything he disliked it, not the taste but the intoxication being out of control.

  I walk away from the kitchen, quickly picking a lukewarm bottle of water before I leave and head to the couch to settle down and hopefully think through my now quieter emotions. After peaking around the corner to check if I left the door unlocked for Lyon, I tuck my feet under my butt and settle back throwing a blanket to curl up in for comfort.

  Since I ran from the bar because of Zep earlier, all I have been thinking is the fact, he’s in town and quite able to work for Flint, yet come here to see me and Lyon? Hmm guess that’s too much of a feat for him. What type of person doesn’t even go to their b
est friend’s funeral or be there for a little boy whom adores him?

  I must admit, Zephyr looked like absolute shit, and I’m still absolutely baffled as to why he was reeking so badly of alcohol like he went on an all weekend binge.

  I think back to the day Zep finally opened up to Deacon and me on how his father passed away. My heart tugs in my chest as I remember the broken look on his eight-year-old freckled face as he told us his father has been sick and passed away in his sleep. Quickly after that, his mother sought the comfort of alcohol to ease her pains. The reason why they had moved to our small town is because of the fact his mother had fallen into such a depression and drank all the time that she lost her job and they were unable to afford staying where they were. Those early years with Zephyr really messed him up, especially the alcohol part.

  That went for drugs too; he spent the rest of his young life refusing to take anything unless he was extremely sick. Anna, his mother had to take him to a doctor one time where they injected him with antibiotics over an ear infection. He had refused to take anything to help, even down to the ear drops.

  Impressively, he also stuck to not drinking to get drunk throughout high school. I can only remember one time he actually got severely tipsy, and that had been at a party in junior year when the guys had discovered beer pong. I shake my head with a fond smile on my lips as I think back to how bad they were that first time. I had to drive home and sneak both Zep and Deacon into the basement. Which was no easy feat considering they both outweighed me by about a hundred pounds and seemed to have found any noise or word funny. It was really annoying at the time, and I was on high alert from listening out for the parents, lucky they never caught us. Much to their dismay, I gave them both a big lecture come the morning that would have made our parents proud. Zep looked all cute with his hair all a mess, blinking up at me with puppy dog eyes, I couldn’t stay mad for long.

  So, this leads me to my question that’s bothering me; who was the Zephyr that was at Mesto today? I mean he looked like Zep but a rougher shell of the man I used to know.

  Did Deacon’s death do that to him? And if he is struggling why hasn’t even bothered to reach out? Doesn’t he know or care that I’m hurting too? I know that after…

  "Aunt Dill," I jump when I hear Ly shouting from the front door, making me lose my line of thought. “I am home!" he loudly proclaims as a thud of bags sound on the hardwood floor as they are chucked to the ground. I shake my head.

  Not long after, little feet catch up to where I’m sat on the couch. I look up to see his food smeared smiling face.

  "How was lunch at the arcade?" I question as I open my arms up for a hug. I always take every opportunity to hold him and smother him with kisses; he really is growing up too fast.

  "Oh, it was awesome!" he bounces on my lap happy, making it hard for me to hold on to him. He is like a squirming puppy. I kiss the top of his head. "We ate pizza and played games and had cake!" he stops mid bounce to yawn loudly.

  "Looks like you had fun." I proclaim as I pull his small body closer to mine and lean back on the couch, trying to get him to settle a bit.

  After a few minutes of getting in to a comfortable position, he wraps his small arms around me and snuggles closer into my shoulder. My heart strings pull tight as I embrace him closer and give him as much love as he is gives me. When it comes down to it, I know that we will both be okay, because we have each other.

  "Hey Ly?" I mumble quietly into the top of his hair.

  "Huh?" his sleepy little voice replies.

  "I love you to infinity" I say before kissing the top of his head.

  "I love you beyond' he responds quietly as he buries in closer, a content sigh falling from his lips.

  I manage to grab the blanket from the other side of the couch with my toes and ease it up and over our bodies without disturbing Lyon, then for the next few hours I just lay there and doze with him, basking in endless love that this little human brings into my life.

  ***

  Zephyr

  One thing keeps going on repeat in my mind; where is that board that Deacon and I had been making Lyon? It almost seems to be like a wakeup call I need. Well, more like the nightmare version. I had a dream last night that I was unable to find it and Deacon came to me and tried to strangle me to death because he was trying to give it to Lyon for his birthday this year and I had let him down. I need to find that board, I have fucked up enough in my life, I really don’t want to add this to the ever-growing list.

  I check the clock on the kitchen stove as I slip on my shoes. They should be here in just a few minutes.

  "Why are you leaving again?" Tucker asks as he grabs the dishes from the cabinets, preparing to set the table.

  "I told you I have stuff to take care of and it can't wait." I give him the truth, albeit a vague version, but the truth none the less. If the board is still in the same shape since we had last worked on it, then I most definitely have my work cut out for me. It’s exactly four weeks until Lyon's birthday and to fix up a board in that limited number of weeks is an extremely short time frame to do it. Clients normally have to order a board within at least six months in order to have it competed and perfect. I just hope I’m able to do what Deacon wanted to do with Lyon’s board. Luckily it has already been started and shaped so that should help some.

  "Look, I’m sorry, but this can't wait,” I ignore the glare he shoots my way and walk around the wall that is Flint, whom has taken up a spot against the hallway, that leads into the foyer, partly blocking it.

  "You can't keep running man." He mumbles as I’m getting closer to him, stopping dead in my tracks, while staring him straight in the eyes.

  "I’m not running this is important.” He takes a second, I assume to feel me out. I try not to fidget. He sighs then nods, running a hand over his hair, finally shifting his body enough to let me pass.

  I’m almost to the door when the doorbell rings. I freeze.

  Shit, I wanted to get out of here in time. I have been struggling the past few hours between leaving before she got here or waiting to see her for just a minute. I guess the part of my subconscious of needing to see her again won out, because here I am, frozen in our hallway, seeing her blurred figure behind our waved glassed front doors.

  "I'll get it." Connor calls from the kitchen, happiness radiating from him so strongly through the alliance that it seems to now permeate from his pores. For some reason, that happiness pisses me off.

  "No, I will get it." I take a few large steps to our dark brass door knob. I take a deep breath and send a quick prayer to the heavens that I’m not about to receive a matching hand print for my other cheek.

  "Hey!" I shout rather loudly, oops, startling Dillon out of her task of straightening Lyon's bow tie. My heart clinches when I look upon his face.

  He’s grown so much since the last time I’ve seen him. What they say is true; you can't blink because kids grow up way too fast.

  "Uncle Zip!" Lyon's face automatically lights up in excitement as he launches his tiny body all the way up into my arms. I grab him up and cling to him like he is my life preserver; my heart clinching for another reason when he whispers in my ear, "I've missed you Uncle Zip." A sad smile comes to my lips as I whisper back, "I've missed you too Squirt," I close my eyes and savor the moment, even if it’s for a minute.

  "Come on in." Flint says over my head, and I snap my eyes open and look to Dillon; her eyes are locked on the embrace Lyon and I are in. There is a mirage of emotions that fly across her face, happiness, sadness, a bit of anger, but in the end, she looks relieved.

  I sit Lyon down and flash a quick genuine smile at Dill, knowing I need to tread carefully and respect her feelings and boundaries, "I hate to hug and run, but I have to go take care of some stuff." I look down at Lyon and run my fingers through his shaggy hair.

  "Aw, but we just got here Uncle Zip!" Lyon pouts out his bottom lip, clearly not happy with me. I squat down to face him, and place my hands on the thin frame of hi
s shoulders.

  "I know and I am sorry Squirt, but I have something very important to take care of." I look him in the eyes and hope to the heavens he will understand. He breaks eye contact with me, his bottom lip wavering. Clearly, he's really upset, but I don't know how to fix it. I grab his small body and pull him in for another hug as I look around me for some help.

  Dillon has her gaze locked on Lyon and her brow is crinkled, her jaw set, like she is furious. I try not to focus too much on how sick to my stomach that makes me feel and continue to search until I find Flint's gaze.

  I lift my eyebrows in question for help; he subtly nods his head in reply. As soon as Lyon lets me go, I rustle his hair and Flint swooped in to save the day. He seems to be doing that a lot. I’m surprised he doesn’t have a hero complex.

  "Oh, wow buddy! Did you dress yourself? Because your outfit looks so cool!" Flint explains with excitement and Lyon automatically launches into describing his outfit.

  I grab my jacket and open the door, but before I make my way down the driveway, I turn back to see Dillon's eyes following my every move. I quickly turn around and try to avoid the look of anger or hurt I know I would find there.

  I wish she could understand why I have to go, but I can't explain it to her right now. Very soon, she and Lyon both will eventually see.

  ***

  Flint

  I crouch down to the pint sized blonde boy in front of me, trying to control my laughter. His choice of outfit is uncoordinated, but all it takes is looking through the eyes of a child to truly see the magic in what he has concocted.

  "Wow buddy, you look so cool!" It takes him a moment to meet my eyes. I know he is trying to weigh the sincerity of my words.