“Wouldn’t the high energy field also explain why there’s a smell of scorched air?”
“Yes it could. There’s a danger in all this.”
“What? Besides dead pigs coming to life?”
“Energy is neither created nor destroyed, but someone expending energy the way the Delmons do...well, they’ve got to replace it.”
“You mean from the mountain. That’s why the Delmons—if they are Lemurians—climb so often.”
“Most of the time. Yes. But other times, they need a quick fix, the same as a drug addict.”
“So where would they get a quick fix?”
“Story tellers say from us.”
“Us?”
“Other people.”
9 SECOND GUESSING
I heard Dierdra in the kitchen fixing supper when I arrived home. She had a fire going in the fireplace. The cabin felt cherry warm. The wood box sat empty.
“That you, Julissa?”
“Yeah, Mom. How was your trip?” I asked as I entered the kitchen. I could smell chicken pot pies cooking.
“Non-eventful. Client stuff I can’t talk about.”
Tension riddled Dierdra’s voice. She sat at the dining room table, nursing a whiskey sour.
“How’s school?”
“Fine.”
“That’s not what Mr. Whittinghill is saying.”
“Why? What’d he say?”
“Come. Sit, Julissa.”
“The wood box needs filling.”
“That can wait. Sit.”
I pulled my coat and back pack off and dropped them onto a chair. I sat across from my stone faced mother.
“What’d Mr. Whittinghill say?”
“For one, you’ve been missing classes.”
I held up a finger. “One class. I missed one class.”
“Mr. Whittinghill is concerned for you, Julissa.”
“Because I missed a class?”
“This is the second one in a week, but there’s more to it. He had a talk with your biology teacher.”
Now I knew where this was going. I leaned back in my chair. Relief settled in.
“You mean the pig thing.”
“Julissa, we’re concerned for you. I’m concerned for you. You never missed classes before. And pigs coming to life? I know this move has been tough for you. It’s a hard adjustment.”
“Hasn’t been all that bad.”
“That’s the problem, Julissa. We don’t always see the changes in ourselves when we’re hurting.”
“I’m not hurting, Mom. I’m fine.”
“You may think so, but it doesn’t appear as such. We never had closure with your father’s passing. I think that is much my fault as it is yours. I’ve had to grieve in my own way and I haven’t been much help to you. I’ve done for me, but not for you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mom.”
“I mean moving here. Moving all the way across the United States. I know it wasn’t exactly the right thing to do for you, even though I needed the change.”
“I’m fine with it. I’ve made new friends. Cherrie is the best.”
“Still, you never talk about your father.”
“What’s there to say? He’s dead.”
“You don’t miss him?”
“Sure I do. But I was young. I don’t remember much. He was gone a lot. Remember?”
“Yes, I know. I never liked it either, him being out on the road so much, driving truck. And when he was home he’d go fishing and hunting. Doing what he loved to do.”
“And mountain climbing.”
“Yes. And mountain climbing. He’d be gone for weeks at a time. I know it’s been tough for you. I haven’t always been there for you. And even now I can’t be there for you. But others can.”
“Others?”
“Mr. Whittinghill says they have a peer group at the high school that meets once a week.”
“Mom, I don’t need counseling.”
“I think you do. What harm could it do? Just talk with others of your age.”
“About what? About Dad dying?” I rose from the chair. Made ready to bolt.
“No. Just about things. Things in general. Things that are bothering you. Maybe make some new friends.”
“I have friends.”
“Who? Cherrie?”
I didn’t like the way she said Cherrie, as though I was hanging out with a derelict.
“Cherrie’s smart. She’s fun to be with.”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t have her as a friend. But she is older. And she doesn’t go to the same school as you.”
“By choice, Mom. Cherrie chose to go to Jefferson High.”
“I just think you need to branch out a little. Talk to someone your own age.”
“I have other friends.”
“Who?”
“How about Charleen, Sandra, and Brittany? And Jason and Robert.” I ticked them off one by one for Dierdra.
“It’s nice to hear you are making friends. You can bring them by anytime, you know.”
No chance!
“And I met a boy.”
“Who?”
“His name is Aaron Delmon.”
“You like this boy?”
“A lot.”
“He’s your age?”
“Yes, Mom. He’s sixteen.”
“He lives around here?”
“Yes, up above the tracks.”
I smelled burnt food. I got up and pulled the chicken pot pies out of the oven.
“Did they burn?” Dierdra said, as she poured another drink.
“No. Spilt over is all.” I turned the oven off and sat the pies on the table.
“Good.”
The warmth of the oven sent chills through me. I realized how chilly it was getting in the cabin.
“I’ll go get some wood,” I offered.
“Eat first. I’ll help you after dinner.” Dierdra motioned for me to sit down.
I stabbed at the crust on my pie.
“Tell me more about Aaron.”
“He’s just a boy I met.”
“Sounds like he is more than just a boy. Is he cute?”
I didn’t think telling Dierdra, Aaron is a golden Adonis who, in my opinion, has super powers, would work in my favor for staying out of the peer counseling group.
“Of course. He’s tall, has blonde hair, blue eyes that sparkle, and he’s smart.”
“Sounds like a nice young man. Do I know his parents?”
I picked at my pot pie, found a piece of chicken, stabbed it, and slipped it in my mouth. It was hot—too hot. I swallowed hard. My eyes watered.
Dierdra leaned forward. “You okay?”
I waved my hand over my mouth. “Hot.”
Dierdra handed me her glass. I took a slug of the whiskey sour. I don’t know that it helped the burn, but it sure did help settle the nerves.
I was hoping mother would forget her last question. She didn’t.
“So, do I know Aaron’s parents?”
“I don’t think he has any, Mom.”
The concern roared back. “Then who does he live with?”
I wasn’t sure how to label Bernard and I wasn’t one to lie to my mother.
“He lives with Bernard. He’s the janitor at our school. I think he is Aaron’s uncle or something.”
Dierdra seemed satisfied with the answer. After all, I had just met the boy. How would I know all the details of his family life? She put down her glass. She nibbled on her pot pie.
“I’m glad we’re doing this,” she said. “I know we don’t get to talk much anymore with me busy with my clients and trying to make sense of my life. So this is special.”
“I miss it too.”
I lied. But I lied to myself. I didn’t like the idea of drifting away from my mother, but at the same time I felt distancing, normal under our circumstances. She was exploring a new life and so was I. We were just two people traveling at different speeds in different directions. That
reminded me of the maroon beanie. I felt like sharing, so I did.
I pulled the beanie from my head. “Aaron bought me this,” I said. I corrected. “Actually, I bought it, but he sold it to me. He works at the Fifth Season.”
I saw Dierdra’s face cloud over. “Your father shopped there.”
“Yeah. I know. Carson Gruen told me.”
Her face lightened. “Well, let me see it.”
I handed the beanie over.
“It’s pretty. I like the colors.”
“Aaron picked it out.”
“He has good taste. Are these clouds?”
“Yes. Wave-clouds. There’s a picture of them over Shasta.”
“Really. Clouds in the form of waves. How does that happen?”
“Aaron told me, two layers of air moving at two different speeds in opposite directions cause them. He said it doesn’t happen very often.”
“Aaron seems to know a lot about the mountain.”
“He does. He’s climbed Shasta a bunch of times.”
“Alone? Isn’t that dangerous?”
“No. He goes with Bernard and his two cousins, Belmont and Beaumont.”
“What kind of names are those? Belmont and Beaumont.”
“They mean beautiful mountain. Aaron means mountain of strength.”
“You’ve been busy. How do you know all this?”
“The internet, Mom.”
“You can’t trust everything you read on the internet.”
I thought about everything I had read on the Lemurians. What Dierdra said was true. I sank in my chair. So much of what one reads on the internet is suspect. How could I share with my mother what I had read and assumed of Aaron?
Had my imagination gotten ahead of me? Was I smitten by puppy-love, as Cherrie kept saying? Was my judgment clouded? Had Aaron really pulled the car off the cliff on Shasta? And bringing pigs back to life? And sucking energy from other human beings?
Maybe I did need therapy. Maybe the peer group thing wasn’t such a bad idea.
After two whiskey sours, Dierdra needed help getting to bed. So what else was new? I tucked her in, kissed her on the forehead, and said good night. Her eyes closed before I shut her bedroom door. I heard her say, “I love you, Julissa.”
I stepped out into the chilly night with the wood tote. The air stood crisp. Stars hung low, so low I expected if I reached up I could touch them.
There goes that imagination again.
I stumbled through the dark to the wood pile and filled the tote. I took a breather and looked north. Mount Shasta loomed larger than life. Her white crested top stretched into the star studded heavens.
I remembered what I had read about Shasta; it’s the cone of an extinct volcano, it stands 14,179 feet high, and it is considered to be one of the most sacred places on earth. I read about its mystic powers and about how its roots reached down to the core of the earth and the energy that radiated from within. It was said to be filled with tunnels and caverns where the survivors of ancient Lemuria lived in a city called Telos.
In stark daylight, much of what I read sounded like folly. But on a starlit night, Shasta appeared to be a breathing, living entity, capable of living up to the spiritual needs of those who visited her, including my father. I was hoping Aaron would eventually share why he and others were attracted to the mountain, to the point of death.
10 DREAMS
I slept fitfully during the night, mostly because around midnight something more than rain beat down on the cabin’s metal roof. I learned the mountain created its own weather patterns. The sky could be clear—like it was last evening when I went out to get wood—and then, hours later, a full blown storm could ensue.
I snuggled under the comforter feeling warm and secure, but disturbed. Dreams took over as I drifted in and out.
I dreamed I was walking through my high school. I was in my senior year, just finishing up with my classes, but I didn’t want to leave. I knew the administrators would force me to depart if I didn’t fail a class or hide away. My grades were more than good and I didn’t have it in me to deceive, even if I was cheating by failing. So my only option was to hide. I found a door in the school I hadn’t noticed before. When I opened it I saw stairs leading to a basement.
In the cellar I saw a huge swimming pool, which nearly filled the room. In the middle of the pool sat a stage. A man stood on the stage. He was tall and wore his blonde hair shoulder length. Because he kept his back to me at all times, I could not see his face, but somehow I knew him to be beautiful. He was in the process of arranging microphones, tuning guitars, and manipulating the amplifiers. He also took turns singing various songs.
Testing his voice, I imagined.
I got it in my head that if I could sing and join the band I would be allowed to stay in school. After all, I had reason to believe there weren’t any jobs to be had outside in the world. I circled the pool. I listened to his voice. I listened to the words, and I listened to the harmony. I began to hum and then sing right along with this man.
At first he ignored me, always turning his back toward me, always looking away.
I sang louder. I surprised myself because I ordinarily do not have a good voice, nor can I carry a good tune. But here I was, in the clearest voice I could ever have expected, belting out the words in perfect harmony.
The man finally took notice. He turned to me. I still couldn’t see his face, but I heard his words.
“Do you want to make music? Together?”
And I said, “Yes. I do.”
Morning came, the alarm clock sounded. Rain, sleet, snow, a mixture, pounded the tin roof. I found it hard to get out of bed, but I was determined not to have any more infractions, lest the administrators and Dierdra would force me to attend peer group counseling.
After drinking a mug of instant coffee and eating a bowl of fried oatmeal sprinkled with brown sugar and raisins and doused with a dab of half and half—another Minnesota staple—I bundled up and headed out the door.
There would be no escaping the weather. Rain, sleet, and snow fell and blew in from all angles. In Minnesota you might get rain, you might get sleet, you might get snow, but you got them at different times of the year and on different days. In the sunny state of California, it seemed, inclement weather had to be squeezed into small timeframes. Either that, or, as I looked in the direction of Mount Shasta, the mountain needed to vent upon the populace.
Getting to school without falling and having to sit on a wet bottom all day would be challenging. Once again, as I walked by Cherrie’s place, I envied her schedule. There was no doubt in my mind she was hard at work sleeping while I blazed a trail to school. I wondered how hard it would be to transfer to Jefferson High. At the rate I was going, adding up the infractions, I might get the offer, but then I would never get to sing with the man in the basement.
I was halfway to school when I saw a dark figure standing on the snow and sleet crested sidewalk ahead of me. As I drew closer I could see he wore a heavy parka with a hood, but he wasn’t wearing the hood. Instead, even though the rain turned into full blown snow, his long blonde hair remained untouched.
“Aaron,” I said, “what are you doing out here?”
“I came to walk you to school. Figured since I couldn’t walk you home last night the least I could do is meet you half way this morning.”
“How did you know where I lived?”
“It’s not hard to find someone in this town.”
“Well, thanks. Shitty weather, huh?”
Aaron looked to the sky, more or less in the direction of Shasta.
“Yep. Mother’s throwing a fit.”
“Mother?”
Aaron nodded. “Mother Earth.”
I couldn’t help but notice, despite donning my rubber soled boots, I kept slipping and sliding. Aaron, on the other hand, seemed to glide over the slick surface. I thought it ironic. I was the Minnesota flatlander where winters are nine months long, lakes freeze over, and slick surfaces abou
nd much of the year; he hailed from sunny California.
“How do you do that? Walk on this stuff without slipping.”
“Practice.”
“Oh, come on.”
“It’s a technique.”
“Show me.”
“Give me your hand.”
I did.
Aaron led me down the sidewalk. It didn’t feel any different.
He walked, I slipped.
“Okay,” he said. “Give me your backpack”
I gladly handed him the backpack.
“And take your glove off.”
I looked at him with concern. The cold bit into us. Did he want my fingers to freeze?
“It’s okay.” He took a glove off his hand and stowed it away in his pocket. “We’ll hold hands. It’ll keep them warm.”
I was all for holding hands with Aaron and, if that meant losing a finger or two to frost bite, so be it. I pulled my glove off and tucked it in my pocket. I felt the bite of cold on my hand, but only until Aaron took a hold of it. My hand not only returned to normal temperature, but I’m pretty sure my whole body, including my heart, ramped up a degree or two.
As we strode forth, I felt sure footed. It was as though someone had come along and, in an instant, taught a baby how to walk. That’s how dramatic the change felt.
“Some technique,” I said. “How’re you doing this?”
“I’m not. You are. I’m just carrying your pack and holding your hand.”
“And the gloves off?”
I could see Aaron struggling to find an answer. The wait was worth it.
“I like touching you.”
What do you say to that? I still felt there was more to the technique than he offered, but I wasn’t going to pass up the chance to bask in the emotion generated by his answer.
“I had a dream about you last night,” I told him.
“Oh yeah. What about?”
“It’s a bit corny.”
“That’s okay. Most dreams are.”
“I was supposed to take this test, this big final. All of us, the students, were milling around not knowing where to go to take the test. Finally this teacher comes along and shows us this door. We go in and it’s like going outside. There are hills, and trees, and flowers, but there are also places to sit.”
Solstice - Of The Heart Page 9
