Root (Book One of The Liminality), Page 4

  “You look lost,” she said.

  “That’s because I am.”

  “What are you looking for?”

  “I … uh … I was invited to this beach party. Can’t seem to find it.”

  “Bummer,” she said. She cocked her head. “Wanna hang with us?”

  “Um … thanks, but … I really need to find these guys.”

  “Okay,” she said, her lips forming a perfect smile. “But … if you can’t find it. Come on back.”

  ***

  I never did find it, but not for any lack of diligence. I walked the whole five miles to Avalon State Park barefoot, reaching it about the time that most people were packing up for the day. I roamed the parking lot, heart pounding hard, knowing this was my last gasp to find Jenny’s party and catch a ride back home.

  I found plenty of old folks alone, young couples and families with small children, but no one I knew from Ft. Pierce High. As the shadows of the dune grass etched the white sands like Arabic calligraphy, I sat myself down on the curbing at the edge of the main lot, by a prickly bush studded with dried and leathery fruits.

  My head throbbed. I needed a drink of water badly. There was a spigot and a shower on a little cedar deck for people to rinse off. I waited for the queue to disappear, then went over and drank directly from the spigot.

  The sun was going down. There were only a few cars left. I turned around and limped back down the road, defeated.

  As the sky darkened, my pace slowed. Every step hurt. Cars whisked past me, with music thumping and people laughing.

  Maybe I wasn’t intended to be around people. This whole social thing never seemed to click for me, whatever the reason. Maybe my being here on earth was a sad mistake. Maybe I should have volunteered for a one-way trip to Mars.

  A couple of miles down the road, a police cruiser slowed down abruptly and pulled alongside me. The officer rolled down his window.

  “You James Moody, by any chance?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “Your mother reported you as a missing person. Everything okay?”

  Chapter 5: Sonic

  Mom picked me up at the police substation on Avenue D, looking disheveled but relieved. She didn’t say much, which was good, because I didn’t feel like talking.

  I hobbled after her, out to the car. The pain in my feet felt like an abstraction, as if my brain had become disconnected from my body. I cared little about what happened next, no more than a tumbleweed worried what fence lay in its path.

  Mom didn’t say much at first, but at the first traffic light, she studied me in the glare of the headlights and streetlamps. “Look at you. You’re burned to a crisp. Did you even bother to put on any of that sun block?”

  “Dunno,” I said, staring straight ahead. “Don’t remember.”

  “Well, obviously not,” she said. “You look like a lobster.” The light turned green. She powered ahead. “Have you eaten?”

  Food. That would explain the hollowness and cramping in my midsection. Not that I had any desire to do anything about it.

  “What the heck is wrong with you? Are on drugs or something? I asked—‘have you eaten?’”

  “Um. No.”

  “So what did you have all day?”

  “Um. A Mountain Dew.”

  “That’s it?” Her face got all pinched and determined. “I’m pulling into this Sonic.”

  “I’m not even hungry.”

  “You need to eat.”

  “I’ll have something when we get home.”

  “What the heck is wrong with you? Are you ill?”

  “No.”

  “Then what?”

  “I’m … just …. pissed … at myself. I’m so stupid. I can’t believe I stood her up.”

  “Oh stop. You didn’t stand anyone up. You’re in mourning, James. Of course your sleep patterns are going to be a little disturbed. She could have waited for you, or called you, or dropped by. Something. It’s not all on you.”

  “Wouldn’t’ve been a problem if I had my own cell phone.”

  Mom took a deep breath. “Listen James. If the family budget allowed, we’d all have cell phones. And I’d have a wardrobe that didn’t depend on 90% off sales. We might even have that dog you always wanted.”

  “But cell phones are cheap.”

  “She should have called you or come by the house. Her family knows where we live. They sent us a sympathy card.”

  “No. You can’t pin the blame on her. This is my fault. I should have gotten up.”

  “I wonder what it says about a girl’s character when she invites you to a party, offers you a ride, and then just blows you off like that. A kid whose father just died.”

  “Mom. Don’t blame her. Please. I’m the one who blew it. It’s all on me.”

  She turned into the Sonic a couple blocks from home and pulled up next to a backlit menu board. “Okay. So what do you want?”

  “I told you. Nothing.”

  “Fine. I’ll order for you, then. Fries, two double cheeseburgers and a chocolate shake. How’s that?”

  I just stared out at the Miracle Mile and the blinking yellow lights in front of the empty lot that used to hold a Kmart.

  ***

  I slept pretty well the first half of that night, considering. I had to drag myself out of bed at one point to get a drink of water. I was so dehydrated.

  While I was up, I slathered myself with some Aloe Vera gel and Lanacaine. Blisters were popping up on my upper arms and shoulders. My nose and forehead were pretty bad too, but I couldn’t stand the feel of having all that gunk on my face.

  I saw all those pills in the medicine cabinet again and was tempted to grab some, but I left them alone this time.

  When I lay down again and started drowsing off, those crawly sensations returned. And this time they meant business. They went after me like a nest of anacondas, striking out and squeezing me in their coils. I gasped and wheezed, jerking my arms to break free, but they were so strong, and so determined.

  Loops kept wrapping round and round until I was encased in a thick and fibrous capsule. I gave up fighting, the way a gazelle relaxes in the jaws of a lion. Once I did, this buzzing warmth oozed all through me. I grew calm as a baby yet to be born, hugged tight, deep inside a womb.

  I must have stayed that way for hours, dangling in the darkness. Muffled thumps and groans sounded in the distance. I peeked through a little triangle of space between the roots at a patch of light glowing green on the wall of a perfectly round tunnel, formed of roots but smooth as a culvert.

  It all vanished when a sharp click and a bright light snapped me awake. Mom leaned over my bed, raising the shades. The morning sun violated my pupils. I shielded my face with my hands.

  “Mom? What are you doing?”

  “Well, it’s half past ten.”

  “So?”

  “So you can’t just sleep all day.”

  “Why not? Where have I got to go?”

  “How about some brunch?”

  “Let me wake up first.” My stomach whined in protest of my professed disinterest in eating. It begged to differ. “What … what are you making?”

  “I’m not making anything. I thought we could go out to the mall. How about the Cheesecake Factory? And a little shopping afterwards? Maybe it’ll cheer us both up.”

  “Um. Okay. I swung my feet off the bed and sat in a slump. I couldn’t help looking at the sheets for traces of the thing that had held me. I saw nothing there but wrinkles and Lanacaine smears.

  Mom picked my dirty socks off the floor and tossed them in the hamper. She was all washed up now and looking way better than she did the day before. She looked at me and winced through her teeth.

  “That’s quite a burn you got there.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why didn’t you use any of the sun block I gave you?”

  “I … uh … lost it. And … the towel … and the cooler.”

  “James! What were you doing out there all
day?”

  I opened my eyes and blinked, my eyes adjusting to the brightness. “Looking for Jenny.”

  She gave a deep sigh and started to reach for my sunburned shoulder, intending to rub it or pat it or something, but she held back, realizing it would probably only make me scream.

  “If you’re so obsessed with her, why don’t you give her a call?”

  “Nah,” I said. “It’s too late now. What’s done is done.”

  “Why is it too late? You can tell her what happened. Find out why she didn’t—”

  “Nah. What’s done is done.”

  “What’s going on? You’re acting all catatonic.”

  I didn’t want to tell her. But she had this imploring look that had a way of prying things out of me.

  “I think I got a problem, mom.”

  “O-kay,” she said. “What kind of problem?”

  “It’s … mental … I think. I see … and feel … these hallucinations. And it’s not the drugs. I didn’t do any … not yesterday … and I’ve never done LSD or ‘shrooms. None of that hallucinogenic shit.”

  “Well, that’s good to hear,” she said, sitting down on the foot of my bed. “I guess. So tell me, what is it exactly that you see?”

  “Roots,” I said. “All these writhing, twisting roots reaching, wrapping, squeezing.”

  Mom’s face blanched. She gasped like she had the wind knocked out of her and buried her face in her hands.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She took a deep breath. “I was hoping … that it would pass you by … that you could avoid it. But no. It’s gotten to you, too. This is bad news. Real bad.”

  “Got what? What’s got me?”

  “This thing that happens. These … visitations. Our family … my side … we’re kind of prone to it. Uncle Ed so far seems immune, but your grandmother had it. I’ve got it. Had it for years.”

  “But what is it? What does it mean?”

  “It’s … a skill, I guess. Maybe curse is a better word. It’s sort of like an ability to see … the other side … the darker side of our souls. I don’t quite understand it, but … it kills me to have you go through it, James. You’re too young to have to deal with such things. And once it comes … it’s hard to break free. Therapy doesn’t help. At least, it did nothing for me.”

  “Last year, when you wouldn’t get out of bed, dad said you had the blues. Was it actually because of this? You were having these visions?”

  She looked up and frowned. “They’re not just visions,” she said and stared at me with this deep and serious look. “Sounds like you’ve only had inklings so far. You have no idea, James, how … intense it can get.”

  “It got pretty intense last night,” I said, studying her eyes. “So, are you all better now? I mean, does it go away?”

  A weary expression came over her. “No,” she said. “I’ll never be all better. Once it gets to you, it has you for life. You need to stay on top of it. You don’t ever want to go to that place again. Nothing good can happen there. So please. Please! Don’t let all the trivial bullshit bring you down. For Heaven’s sake, it was just a beach party.”

  “No,” I said, staring at the dust bunnies under my desk. “It was more than that.”

  Chapter 6: Glow-worms

  We reached the mall a little before noon. We had brunch first, ordering a la carte. I had Belgian waffles; Mom—Eggs Benedict. We didn’t say much to each other at the table. Mom chatted with a lady the next table over that she knew from the library. I just sat there and shoveled food into my mouth.

  “Feeling better?” said mom, after her friend left.

  “I’m okay,” I said. “I was okay before.”

  She leaned closer and looked me in the eye. “You know, you really should call that girl.”

  “Yeah. Maybe I will. When we get home.”

  “James. If you want a cell phone, we can get you one. Why don’t you have a look around? We can put you on a prepaid, or maybe some basic monthly plan.”

  “For real?”

  Mom looked defeated.

  “Sure. Why not? These days … it’s important, I guess.”

  So she paid the bill with a credit card and we split up to do our own shopping. I headed straight to the Verizon store, knowing I should take full advantage of mom’s offer. But looking at all those phones just brought back the specter of yesterday at the beach. I don’t even know why, but I had to get out of that place. I wasn’t quite ready to join the rest of my generation.

  So I headed off to Eddie Bauer where mom said she would meet me. We had come here in the first place to get me a new pair of jeans. On the way, I got distracted by Brookstone shop. I played with a few gadgets and went off to fulfill my duty, only I couldn’t resist wandering into Barnes and Noble.

  I poked around the manga racks for a while, turned a corner and found Burke staring blankly at the General Fiction.

  “James! Hey man, what’s up?”

  “Oh nothing. Just … hanging out.”

  “I gotta get a book for school,” he said. “Fucking sociology teacher wants us to read something written by an African author. Any African author. But just try finding one. Hey, you wouldn’t happen to know of any, would you?”

  “Nega Mezlekia,” I said. “He wrote ‘Notes from the Hyena’s Belly.’ You’ll like it. Lots of action. It’s non-fiction, though.”

  “Whoa, dude! You’re amazing! Mez—how do you spell that?”

  “Just look it up under hyena.”

  “Hey, how come you weren’t at the beach the other day?”

  “Say what?”

  “The beach. Weren’t you supposed to—”

  “Look at this burn,” I said, displaying both of my ruddy profiles. “Does this face look like someone who hasn’t been to the beach?”

  “Yeah, but, I thought you were going with us. Jenny said she invited you.”

  “Oh man, you went with Jenny?” I sighed. “I overslept. I tried to find you guys, but…. Where’d you guys end up going?”

  “Vero,” said Burke.

  “Oh Gawd! I had no idea. I thought you guys were staying local.” I sighed again. “Was Jenny upset?”

  “Well … she was a little mopey at first. She kind of holed up with Marianne, They went off by themselves, whispering back and forth. It was … kind of awkward. But then she met some guy, and that perked her up.”

  “Say what?”

  “There were some other Ft. Piercers there. We kind of linked up with them. You know Jared?”

  “The pothead?”

  “Yeah. Well, Jenny … uh … Jenny kind of … hooked up with him.”

  “Shit!” I stumbled into a table and almost knocked over a stack of paperbacks.

  Any facade I had been able to erect over my outward feelings came crashing down. Moisture welled up in my eyes and threatened to spill. My jaw trembled. I had to look away.

  “Are you okay?” said Burke.

  “Burke, I gotta go.” I wheeled and head for the door.

  “Hey. Come on out to the park sometime. Okay?”

  ***

  The story of Jenny’s day at the beach only got worse. I had to piece a lot of it together second hand and well after the fact, mostly from her friend Marianne, but it seemed my absence that day had triggered a nasty string of events.

  When I didn’t show, Jenny indeed felt humiliated. When Jared, oblivious to the situation, tried hitting on her, she was flattered and receptive, in part I guess because she wanted to feel better about herself and to get back at me for standing her up.

  The problem was, it was no one time thing. She continued to go out with him for weeks afterward. And this guy Jared was a total loser. I sort of knew him from hanging out at the park. He was this acne-scarred, pothead who had dropped out of vocational school. She couldn’t possibly be serious about him.

  The best I could figure, she was just pretending to go out with Jared to make me feel jealous and try harder. Problem was this ploy, if that’s wha
t it was, had not only punished my little mistake, she had crushed my spirit and made it uncorrectable. Her little ruse made me lose my last shred of hope and self-regard.

  Maybe if it had happened a month earlier I would have been more resilient. But dad’s passing had stranded me out on the edge. I had no guard rails to keep me from going over the side.

  I conceded defeat and retreated into myself, spending less and less time with her circle of friends. The few times I saw her in public, she would toss a wistful look at me, but I couldn’t even bear looking at her.

  I had this overwhelming sense of being finished with it all, that I had had enough, that this is where I made my exit. But again, this was nothing compared to what was to come.

  I realize all of this sounds pretty trivial and pathetic, but I’m not here to impress you. I’m just telling you how I came to recede into the deepest funk that my young soul had yet experienced, and how that opened the doors to a world that would soon become very important to me.

  ***

  When we got back from the mall, I sank into the couch while mom went outside to spruce up around the yard. She tried to coax me into coming out and helping, and I told her I would, but the truth is, I never budged.

  There was some crappy show on, with guns and stuff blowing up, but to me all that registered were random shapes and light and noise. Mom had left her new prescriptions on the counter. They lay there all wrapped like little birthday gifts. I wondered what new toys the doctor had prescribed for us. Maybe this time I’d sample a whole bottle. No more onesies and twosies.

  But before I could even reach for the bag, the roots came, and this time they came fast and they came hard, and they didn’t even wait for the sun to fall. And I let them come and take me until the world of my house no longer registered in my senses.

  I found myself naked and wrapped tight again in that dark passage, a dim glow filtering through the weave of my pod. I swayed, all snug and tight like a caterpillar in a cocoon, almost wondering what kind of butterfly I would become, but I certainly wasn’t growing any wings in there.

  My mind filled with a pleasant buzz. A light intoxication. Nothing dramatic. Enough to feel pleasant without being impaired. It kept me from feeling bored and made quite happy to just chill out and dangle and wait for the inevitable, whatever that turned out to be.

  There were those groaning things again, and this time some of them were louder and closer. They didn’t sound like people in pain. They didn’t even sound like people. They were more like grunts of exertion or some kind of belching. They were way too deep and loud to have originated from a human. They had to come from something large, something elephantine or whale-like.