The Unwanted Winter - Volume One of the Saga of the Twelves

by Richard Heredia

  The kitten immediately disappeared. The make-believe war in its head was still very much alive. It scurried off to some unknown place of ambush.

  “I told you, Jas. I use every tool in the arsenal,” Joaquin repeated through a grin, a taunting cast to his face.

  “You could’ve at least waited until I got the damned cat off my hand,” growled Jason as he watched four tiny driblet’s of blood bubble through the nearly invisible puncture wounds the rambunctious kitten had left behind.

  “Hey, man, don’t get all mad at me,” replied Joaquin, raising his arms, palms facing Jason in mock surrender. “I’m not the one who brought home Cujo the Cat, you did.”

  Jason chuckled, sucking the blood from his thumb. “Ha, no shit, huh? What the hell was I thinking?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” was the other’s response. He placed the controller he’d been holding on the ground before him and was abruptly forced to snatch his hand back up in order to avoid yet another attack from the kitten. “Jesus, where the hell did that little bastard come from?”

  Already, the kitten was gone, hiding, waiting, stalking.

  “I should find the catnip toy I bought for him. He’s getting a little out of control,” surmised Jason as he glanced about his room, looking for the life-sized mouse he had purchased to keep the kitten occupied.

  “I don’t care what you do, just do something, that cat is freakin’ out of its’ gourd,” mumbled Joaquin. “He’s the damned Ted Bundy of the cat world, the Hannibal Lector of the animal kingdom, the cursed Rasputin of the –.”

  “Dude, I get it!” burst out Jason. He saw the toy in the middle of his bed, putting Joaquin out of his mind for the time being. He got up to go fetch it.

  “Ok, man, I’m just saying, the little fart is as wild as a mofo! I mean he’s wild like National Geographic, uncharted like the Goby desert, untamed like -.”

  “…Your mom’s bush,” finished Jason for the other teenager, laughing as he called for the kitten and threw the toy toward his bedroom door.

  Joaquin was muttered under his breath.

  Too low for Jason to hear, but he wasn’t listening. He didn’t sit back down next to his friend until he was sure the kitten was going to go after the toy and leave them alone.

  “You leave my mom’s bush out if this, dude,” said Joaquin, his brow knotted above the bridge of his nose, making Jason lean back a little unsure if he had gone too far, “Because there is nothing as untamed as that thang!” His hard expression melted. He laughed loudly, clapping Jason on the back, who staggered under the blow. He was a little surprised when the pain usually following one of Joaquin’s “taps” on the back didn’t come. Maybe all the weight lifting was beginning to pay off?

  Back toward the door of the room, the kitten was savaging the silken mouse, the profuse douse of catnip doing the trick for the time being.

  “You still going out tonight with Clarisse?” asked Jason. He began to gather up the controllers and turn off the game console they’d been using.

  The subject change made Joaquin raise his brow in the classic “where-did-that-come-from” expression.

  Jason tried to ignore it, feeling the sudden self-consciousness he was trying to mask boil up and flush his face. Damn it, why did I come out with it all obvious like that and shit? Jason changed the input channel on the AUX to cable, and picked up another remote to turn on the cable box, at a loss for blurting out the question in the first place.

  “Yeah, man, we’re going out later on tonight. Why?” Joaquin wondered.

  “Oh, I was just curious that’s all,” he replied, not looking at Joaquin, instead began to click through the menu to see what was on, hoping his friend wouldn’t recognize the blush filling his face. “You gonna take your mom’s car, give her the whole nine yards, the complete package?” What the hell is freakin’ wrong with me! How come every time I open my mouth, everything goes wrong?

  At his side, Joaquin frowned anew, a crooked smile etched on his face. “Yeah… why the sudden interest in how and what I do with Clarisse?”

  Jason shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. His eyes still locked on the television guide as he scrolled down the numerous channels available. He had to stop digging this hole he was widening by the second. Soon, he’d have to lie down and bury himself. He’d have little choice.

  “Come on, Jason, what’s the deal?” pushed Joaquin, more than curious by his friends change in mood.

  “Nothing major, just wondering why the big change with Clarisse. I mean, last month, before you got your driver’s license and the car, you wouldn’t give that a girl a second look and now… the red carpet and all.” He clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth and settled for a local channel currently broadcasting the news, but would be showing the Lakers in less than forty-five minutes. He decided he’d just wait for them to come on, desperately trying to think of a way out of the emotional quagmire he had just landed himself, and headlong at that!

  “Red carpet, what the heck are you talking about? I’m picking her up, we’re going to dinner and a movie, have her home by 10:00 pm, nothing else – a simple boom-boom date, what’s the big deal?” queried Joaquin, his palms splayed to either side of him as he turned, sitting on the very edge of the bean bag, so he could face Jason directly.

  Both of them ignored the reporter on the TV screen.

  “…do not know for certain what happened in this sleepy suburb of Los Angeles late last night. Authorities say they do not know why young James Henley was in possession of the strange paraphernalia when he was killed. They’re not certain if it was planted on his person later, after his arm was savagely torn off and his body stuffed into a mattress…”

  Jason finally looked at his friend.

  Joaquin met his gaze.

  The two friends stared at each other for a few seconds, until Joaquin’s face changed all of a sudden, registering with understanding.

  Again, Jason felt foolishly embarrassed, as if he’d shown too much of the part of himself he liked to keep private. Sometimes knowing a person for more than a decade had its downside - this was one of them. Joaquin could read him as easy as a story about Curious George.

  “Dude, still, seventh grade was a long, long time ago,” bleated Joaquin a trickle of astonishment in his voice.

  “Yeah, I know,” whispered Jason, though he knew his friend had heard him.

  Time to come clean…

  It had indeed been a long time since he’d dated Clarisse McIntyre. It was also, equally true, he’d barely held hands with her, let alone kiss the girl, but still, to him, she had been one of the first girls he’d experienced anything remotely like a girlfriend. Those first feelings were sometimes hard to let go. It didn’t matter they merely waved at each other on the school grounds nowadays. Sometimes they smiled briefly at one another in the hallways. Though, he still had her number, he hadn’t called her in years and neither had she.

  It wasn’t anyone’s fault. After four months of going out, things in Jason’s life had deteriorated to the point he’d become too distracted. He’d lost interest in the concept of having a girlfriend. His parents had divorced. His mother had moved back to China in shame, leaving him with his father, not really explaining why she had done so in the first place. She hadn’t said so much as a single word to him, detailing why she hadn’t taken him with her as so many other mothers would’ve done in similar situations. For some unknown, unexplainable reason, Jason’s mother hadn’t. Instead, she’d left him behind to share a life with a perplexed and emotionally drained shell of his former father. She had left him to fend for himself, while she jetted back to Beijing, to the largest portion of her family, to a new life.

  It had been such a confusing time for him, so heart rending and mind consuming, when he looked back on it from time to time, he realized he’d forgotten about everything and everyone else around him. He had crawled in a hole that spring and summer. He’d been content to shield himself from a world that had become too painful
to be a willing participant.

  Though, he hadn’t wallowed in self-pity or self-loathing in any form. He’d not asked the proverbial “why me?” questions or cry himself to sleep night after night. There was no wallowing in despair. Rather, he just pulled back from everything around him, secluded himself and sequestered his mind and thoughts from all of those around him. He hid within himself. He became a withdrawn, unfeeling boy, going through the act of living, but not tasting a single morsel of what it meant to be alive.

  Of course, the inevitable had come to pass. Clarisse had sent him an e-mail one day. A message he ignored for a week before he opened it, only to find she was intent upon breaking up with him, or had done so apparently a week earlier. Even then, he had no real reaction, no true emotional response to her message. She had written she was sorry for what had happened to him and she understood his reaction to it. She went so far as to say, she felt it prudent that he not be in a relationship, as he plainly needed time to himself, to heal and regroup. She had wished him well and had asked him to keep in touch.

  It was sort of mature for a seventh grader when he thought about it…

  Maybe she’d had help?

  An awkward silence had settled about the room.

  Although, it was periodically broken by the tiny squeals and growls of the kitten. It was still trying to disembowel its’ toy near the door, rolling about, slashing with its forepaws, kicking with its rear.

  “I can break it off with her if you want me too… There’s still a little time,” offered Joaquin.

  Jason felt like a brick of hot lead just dropped in the pit of his stomach, leaving a metallic aftertaste in his mouth. He was embarrassed and feeling like a retard for harboring such meaningless feelings. He should’ve never even bothered to bring it up.

  “Do you want me too?” asked Joaquin a second time.

  Jason looked up at his friend, the only other person, other than his father, who had stood beside him through those horrible first days when his mother has destroyed his old life for a new one of her own.

  The selfish bitch!

  “Naw, man, just be nice to her, ok? Don’t get all horny on her on the first date or go all Chris Brown on her during your first argument, and shit. None of that stuff, because she really is a nice girl,” he said softly, not sure why setting the basic ground rules between them would serve as a quality method of getting over feeling stupid.

  I should’ve just kept my stupid mouth shut!

  Joaquin smiled broadly. “You know me, man, I’m a perfect gentleman with the ladies, that’s why they always come back for more. They love the wining and the dining, the entertainment, the whole… what the hell did you call it?”

  “The red carpet, you wank-job,” supplied Jason, suddenly glad at being able to laugh, thankful Joaquin was one of the coolest dudes he had ever known.

  “Yeah, that’s it, the red carpet treatment. It kinda grows on you”

  That was when the kitten suddenly attacked Jason’s shoe and began meowing at the top of its lungs, staring up at him with eyes almost too big for his skull. “I think he’s hungry,” he managed through the high-pitch peals for food.

  Joaquin just sat back and gesturing he didn’t care one way or the other. “You should feed him, so he’ll shut the hell up,” his friend added, looking at the kitten with an unsure expression written across his face.

  “Yeah, I should,” Jason muttered, scooping up the cat and making his way out of the room, toward the kitchen where he had the little cat’s food.

  Meanwhile, Joaquin turned his attention back to the TV, not quite sure what he was watching.

  “…I am here now with a neighbor of the Henley family who lives just a few houses down from where James Henley, Jr. lived with his parents and his younger sister. Hello, sir, and you are?”

  “Ah, I’m uh -. Dan. Dan Mckenna,” responded a portly middle-aged man in jeans and a flannel shirt, clearly some sort of construction worker.

  “So, um, Mr. Mckenna, how well do you know the Henley’s and would you ever expect such a gruesome event to occur here in your own neighborhood…?”

  Joaquin cupped his chin with both hands, his elbows on his knees, thinking. Why does that name sound familiar?

  ~~~~~~~~<<<<<<{ ☼ }>>>>>>~~~~~~~~

  ~ 19 ~

  A Hello, Of Sorts

  Sunday, November 21st, 10:27 pm…

  When he thought about it, after dropping her off at her house and getting a quick peck on the lips for showing her a good time (and for being a gentleman), the date hadn’t gone all that bad. In fact, when compared to his last few dates, it had gone through the stratosphere.

  The more he thought about it, the more he’d begun to realize how much he liked Clarisse. He found his mind wondering back to her hair, the color of corn stalks in the autumn, long and curly. He recalled her light blue eyes, sometimes shining with specks of green in the light of the sun. No matter what he’d been thinking about earlier, his mind was shift back to her. She was pretty after all, and it was easy for him to see why Jason still had a tween-crush on the girl. However ridiculous it might seem now.

  She had a thin face with a pair of high-set cheekbones, naturally blushed regardless of emotion. Her face ended in a sort of squarish chin giving her a feminine, but chiseled cast. She was neither tall nor short, but of medium height, just over five foot three, which put the top of her head just below Joaquin’s armpit. He didn’t mind though, he preferred petite girls to the taller, larger girls, the type that typically approached him in a more than friendly fashion more often than not. Her skin was more tanned for a girl who had been born in the mid-west, but it went well with her hair and her eyes. It made her look even more exotic in his book. Since winter was almost upon them and every day this week had been colder than the last, Joaquin figured she went to a tanning salon. He was unable to picture her, in her back yard, in a bathing suit, tanning in the chill winds that had been blowing of late.

  Still, though, the good ole’ Sylvania Tan is doing her justice! he mused as he drove down Yosemite Drive toward his parents’ home, five blocks south of Rockdale Elementary school.

  He could still feel her thin, soft lips on his, the sweet smell of her perfume on his clothes.

  After leaving Jason’s house, he’d gone back to his place, showered, shaved, brushed his teeth and ironed his clothes. He’d done his hair next and then dressed. Heading out the door, he gave his mother a quick kiss (who told him to behave himself) and his father a wave from across the living room (who promptly winked and told him to have good time, which made his mother wiggle her finger at the man as she growled in disgust).

  He was out the door, still grinning at his father’s antics, promptly at 6:00 pm on his way to pick-up Clarisse. She lived on Addison Way, about a mile from the house he shared with his parents.

  He’d parked, gone up to her house and knocked, so he could present himself to her parents as he was taught – always show respect, always be kind, and always be on time. Clarisse’s father answered the door. A friendly, middle-aged man with a firm, dry handshake (he’d been thankful, sweaty palms grossed out Joaquin big-time), and the typical salt and pepper hair, unshaven, but still well kept. He was dressed in a pair of tan chinos, a polo shirt of a slightly lighter hue and a pair of well-worn loafers. To Joaquin, he looked like a man enjoying his Sunday to the fullest. They exchanged “hellos” with the usual introductions following as Mr. McIntyre backed up a pace and let Joaquin into his home. They had only made it through the foyer when Clarisse came bounding down the stairs. This amazed Joaquin to some degree, because she was wearing three inch heels with black, skinny jeans, a flowing black blouse, and a sweater in the crook of her arm. Good balance, he made himself think, not wanting to ogle Mr. McIntyre’s daughter right before his eyes. It took a most valiant effort, because Clarisse looked totally hot!

  I should’ve asked her out a long time ago, he remembered thinking. He knew he’d been missing out – most definitely.

 
; She came up to him and gave him a quick chaste hug, which for some reason she had to do standing on one foot. A thing girls sometimes did that Joaquin could never quite understand. Clarisse’s mother came to the top of the stairs at that time and said goodbye to them, after she had smiled at Joaquin, giving him a quick nod of her head. Clarisse’s father had asked Joaquin where they were going, Joaquin told him to Glendale to grab a bite to eat at a restaurant on Brand Boulevard and a movie after. Both places were on the same block.

  Then, Joaquin handed Clarisse’s father a three by five card with the addresses and phone numbers of both places they were about to go to. He was relieved when the gesture really seemed to impress the man. Respect, kindness and punctuality, they were three words that were part of his dating mantra.

  Clarisse’s father had told Joaquin he was grateful and shook his hand again.

  Excitedly, they’d left.

  Joaquin took her to the California Pizza Kitchen. They pigged out on the sort of pizza one could only buy in California. The chorizo and avocado pie on ultra-thin crust was one of Joaquin’s favorites. So much so, he usually ate two at a single sitting. Clarisse was a good date, the kind of girl Joaquin liked; she scarfed-up almost as much food as he had, not bashful or shy about eating in front of him in the least.

  Again, he found himself thinking, why he hadn’t asked her out sooner?

  They had sat opposite each other, eating, laughing, and deepening their relationship for so long, if Joaquin hadn’t glanced down at his watch (a nervous habit), they would’ve missed the movie.

  He smiled inwardly when he thought of the movie - titled, The Canopy. It was about a group of tourists boating up the Amazon River on the vacation of a lifetime - three couples and four single adults, who from almost the beginning of the flick were hunted by a demented maniac, known locally as “O Diabo”, Portuguese for The Devil. It turned out to be no different from the hundreds of slasher movies Joaquin had seen over the years. But, what made this one even more fun to watch, was having Clarisse snuggle close to him during every scary part. There had been many and, by the middle of the show, he was praising the person who’d invented stadium seating with removable armrests. That man, or woman, had to be the greatest genius to have ever walked the earth. How could he believe otherwise when Clarisse was hugging him about the chest with one her legs straddling his lap, her face buried in his side. He had just held onto her, enjoying the feeling of being protective of her, languishing in her warm embrace, the press of her fit body up against his.