Bah! Puberty!? What ridiculous NONSENSE! Al thought to himself.
He knew himself well-enough to know that brooding was par for the course. Mood-swings and over-all grouchiness was pretty much his entire personality. Who were his so-called friends to claim that they knew him better than he knew himself?
He scoffed again as he fumbled with his keys at his front door. He dropped them once, then twice, and paused leaning against the door frame for a moment to regain his balance.
Man, Astrid’s wine really is something else… the taste of salt and iron still lingering in his mouth.
Then again… he hadn’t always been this way. He remembered very little of his childhood, mainly because he didn’t want to. But his sister claimed he’d always been a bright child… even kind. His persona since he’d left home had been carefully cultivated to keep people away. Somehow, though, there still seemed to be some who could see right through him.
Al snatched up the keys, and after a little more jangling he flung open the door triumphantly. There were three envelopes waiting for him on the floor that must have been stuffed through the mail slot days ago. He scooped them up and flopped into the old chair by the stove.
One was just junk. The other, from his sister. He set it aside, too fuzzy-headed to think about the implications of her coming to see him anytime soon.
The last one was filled with cash, and a short note, “Deposit. Rent for January.”
He stared at the note for far too long, and let the envelope fall to the floor without counting the money.
Becoming an adult, huh? What does that even MEAN?
Horror stories of going through puberty had been all anybody could talk about at the pub, ever since Astrid’s well-placed jab. Was he just doomed to go through an awkward and frustrating next few years where he would become some itchy sex-crazed maniac?
He had been fending for himself for so long, it was obvious he already thought of himself as an adult. Though his occasional outbursts were enough to remind himself that his childishness was, in reality, due to the fact that he WAS a child.
He sighed heavily. He could handle this. He could handle anything. He snatched up his mail and crawled to the door to the basement, locking it behind him.
With enough locks, with enough walls, with enough barriers, he assured himself, There isn't any storm he couldn't weather.
A week passed uneventfully. Sabre had finished her book… and twelve others. With little else to do, she reveled in her own personal library. She was enjoying losing herself in the books more than she perhaps should have.
The books were arranged in only the most haphazerdous order. She ran her fingers across endless volumes of novels and series, The Dark Tower Series, The Lord of the Rings, The Golden Compass, Dune, Red Wall and easily a hundred more. Then came and unexpected parade of comics and manga, hundreds and hundreds of volumes, Dr. Srange, Astro City, The Sandman, The Watchmen, Deadpool, Spiderman, Suicide Squad, Attack on Titan, The Promised Neverland; it went on and on.
There was a full set of encyclopedias and dictionaries that lined the bottom shelves that bordered the room, filled out by what could have been nearly a thousand volumes of National Geogrphics. In the corner near the closet were are text books, school books for what seemed like every subjuct at any grade. It was all there, history, spelling, advanced microbiology, medical books, geography, as well as a series of language text books and study guides. Shoved in with the language study guides was and old leather-bound book that seemed quite out of place.
The top and largest shelf that ran lengthwise all the way around the room was nothiong but "How To" books, How to Blow Glass, How Constrict and Operate a Drill Press, How fix Pumbling, How to apply Drywall and so on. There was a huge section of it dedicated to Enineering, Avionics and Navigation. There was another book here that looked far older than the others. Sabre splipped it out but couldn't really make heads or tails of it until she realized it was an Atlas of some sort. It was in a language she'd never seen, maybe Gealic? She had no idea. But it intrigues her, so she set it over on the nightstand on her "to read" pile.
In the past year she had been forced to come face to face with the bloody consequences of helping her mother succeed in her life-long crusade against capitalism.
Her most recent, and honestly, most dramatic attempt to end her life had failed, spectacularly. If she couldn’t kill herself, she’d just shut out the world that had taken everything from her. That, she hoped, would be good enough.
Currently four books into The Foundation series by Isaac Asimov, Sabre was lost in admiration of the intrepid Beyta Darell. Her cell phone suddenly sprang to life for the first time in two months. The ringing startled her so much that she threw the book at it, knocking it off the charger.
Still trying to slow her breathing she flipped it open, “Hello.”
“Miss MacGregor?”
“Speaking.”
“This is officer Darrow. We spoke at my office in Edinburgh.”
“I know.”
“You were supposed to call to check in last week.”
Shit, with everything that had been going on, she’d completely forgotten.
“I’m sorry. I was ill,” it was true that she’d been sick while at the mission.
“Do you have any documentation of that?”
“Um… y-yes,” Sabre she fumble through her file folder, and then gave him the contact information of the Mission office, hoping that if he checked up on her story Tulla or Irena would back her up.
“So,” her probation officer continued, “You made your way to Odann then?”
“I did.”
"Find any family there?"
"No."
“Do you have a permanent address I can fill in then on your paperwork?”
“Um, yes. I’ve signed a lease here,” she gave him the address and name of her landlord.
“And how are you doing?”
“...”
“Getting settled in?”
Again, Sabre remained silent.
Officer Scott Darrow sighed, “Listen, you know I have to ask these questions. It’s my job. Could you at least cut me some slack here?”
“Sorry,” Sabre yielded, “I’m doing fine.”
“No violation of the terms of your probation? I know it’s hard these days, what with technology everywhere-”
“No,” she interrupted, “Have you ever been to Odann?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
“It’s just a small fishing village. I think they get a lot of tourists in the summer… but it’s not exactly tech-central.”
“Okay, then. Have you found a job yet?”
“No.”
“Per the terms of your release-”
“I know,” she interrupted again, “I have three months.”
“Okay then. Have you followed up with the councilor?”
“...No.”
“Well, get it done. And don’t forget to check in next month.”
“I won’t.”
“Miss Sabre,” officer Darrow said in a softer tone, “Call if you need anything.”
“Right.”
"I do mean that. I'm here to help you, okay?"“Okay then, I look forward to your next call.”
She hung up first, annoyed by the whole conversation. It was so hard for her to not hate him. Officer Darrow wasn’t a bad man, just an average case worker. Keeping tabs on her was his job after all. She just didn’t like being reminded how dangerous she was.
Sabre sighed and flopped back onto her bed.
Twenty five years probation… I’m not to break the law. I’m not to access the internet. I’m not to leave the country.
The thought of killing herself began to creep up into the back of her mind yet again.
Earnie was snuggled into her regular spot at Marco's Pizza, the closest table to the huge stone oven, his eyes glued to her phone. Jasper, who'd been browsing social media since he got there, looked up from his own phone.
"Where's Wendy today?"
"Had to work," Earnie grunted in reply.
"Whatcha' reading?" he asked, wondering what had her so entranced.
"Just another article on the residual effects of the Spider Virus."
"Heh, computer stuff, I'll never get it."
"It's interesting shit though," Earnie continued, completely ignoring his blatant disinterest, “To think that just a year ago this little bug had brought the entire international financial system crashing down…”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Jasper mused, “Vigilante hackers and spies and shit, makes it all sound like some James Bond movie.”
“It’s not a movie, dude, this shit ruined so many people’s lives.”
“But it probably helped a lot of people too, y’know?”
“The fuck Jasper? Don’t tell me you’re one of those anti-government conspiracy nuts too?”
“Oh, fuck off with all that,” he snapped as Max slid two gigantic slices of pizza onto their table, “I’m a fuckin’ farmer for god’s sakes, what do I know about it? I’m just sayin’... well, shit, I don’t think all this global capitalism shit works.”
“Whatever, you just don’t like it ‘cus it’s too complicated for you to understand.”
“No need to get all snippy. I get it. I’m just saying I ain’t no fan of the system, bro.”
“Ugh, you sound like Tember. So what if the ‘system’ is unfair. Ya’ can’t just burn it to ashes without having a back-up plan.”
“True that, but the fact that we’re all still talking about it is just annoying.”
They continued eating in silence for a moment.
“It’s funny though,” Jasper said, “People always talk about how much they hate being stuck living in this hick town, but in a way… we were pretty insulated from all that chaos.”
“Yeah… I guess,” Earnie was somber, clearly more altruistically in tune with the woes of people he’d never meet, “The bank here is small, still keeps paper records, same with the clinic… anybody that owns land ‘round here has owned it since the damn dark ages.”
Jasper snorted, “Ain’t that the truth! N’ shit I don’t even know anybody that trades stocks hahaha!”
“Like living in a bubble,” Earnie sighed with mixed feelings.
He stared at his food. He knew one day, he’d have to get out of Odann. Escaping his family would be harder than he had imagined at first. Earnie suddenly found himself in a daydream…
Many years ago, when Alistair had found his first ceramic fuselage, he proudly displayed it as he lay out on top of it as if he was sunbathing.
“Well? What are you waiting for!? Hop up!” His arm stretched out toward her, his eyes bright, barely able to contain his excitement.
“What is it? Oh-!” He cried out as Al yanked him up, nearly dislocating his shoulder.
“My bad,” Al said, “You, uh, don’t weigh as much as I thought.”
“Well, duh, ya’ brute. My bones are hollow; so what did you expect?”
“So you do have some family traits, huh?”
“Nevermind that,” Earnie dismissed, “What’s it supposed to be.”
“It’s my ticket outta’ here, is what it is,” he said excitedly, laying back and pointing up at the sky, “Out of here, and up there.”
“You’re crazier than I thought,” Earnie said, hanging over one side of it looking down into one of the small windows, “You mean to tell me you think you’re gonna build a plane?”
“I don’t think so, I am.”
Earnie looked back to where a wing had been ripped off, leaving a gaping hole in the structure. There was no tail or rudder, no engines or propeller. The whole thing looked like it had been crumpled by the hand of God. It was barely recognizable as the cabin of a small plane.
“You’re kidding right? This thing is a tin can.”
“Don’t nay-say little Sprite.”
“What’s your deal anyways? Not satisfied already with living up on a cliff.”
“No,” Al said plainly, “I’m not.”
“Are you ever satisfied?”
“Say what you want,” he slid off the side of his newly acquired prized possession, and stared off into the sunlight filtering through the clouds, “But I’m going to fly.”
“Helloooo? Earth to Earnie!”
“Hm? What?” he snapped back to the present.
“What’s up with you? It’s not like you to not finish your food… and then order more,” Jasper added with a smirk.
“You callin’ me a glutton?” Earnie replied, shoving another unnecessarily large bit in his mouth.
“HA! I would never.”
“I was just wondering if it was hard for him,” Earnie continued, talking with his mouth full.
“If what was hard for who? We still talkin’ about the Spider Virus?”
“No, no, I mean Al, leaving his home, his country, cutting ties with his family… at such a young age.”
“What’s got ya’ goin’ on about all that all of a sudden?”
“Meh… it’s nothing really. But…” he hesitated, “Don’t you ever feel boxed in here? Stuck in Odann, doin’ what your family’s been doin’ for centuries?”
“Keepin’ chickens?”
“Oh, c’mon, you know what I mean. Don’t you n’ Lewis get sick of always just doing what’s expected of you?”
“Nah, not really,” Jasper slurped his soda, “I barely manage to do what little is expected of me. Lord help us all if I was ever given any sort of real responsibility.”
“Ha! Can’t argue that one.”
Later that afternoon, in the family apartment above the tea shop, Earnie was pouring over a college application letter at their kitchen table.
“Whatcha’ doin?!” Azzie popped up.
“Yeah! Whatcha’ doin’?!” Rosette echoed.
“None of your business, you little imps,” he said, shoving their faces aside.
“Are you studying?”
“You’re done with school.”
“Daddy won’t like that.”
“No, he won’t.”
“Whatcha’ studying for?”
“What’s this page? Do you have to write a report?”
“A report on what?”
“Yah! What are ya’ gonna’ write about?”
“Oh for fuck’s sake! Would you two just get outta’ my face! What’s a guy gotta’ do to get a little privacy around here?!”
“Ooooooo! Bad word! Bad word!” Earnie’s two little sisters chanted.
“Shut yer yaps you brats!” Earnie began to chase them around the table, “You tell dad about this and you’re both dead meat!”
“Eeeek! He’s gonna’ feed us to her scary friend!”
“Ahhh!”
A looming figure suddenly appeared in the doorway, arms crossed, draped in an intricately woven shawl that hung down to the floor.
“What. Is. All. This.”
All three instantly froze.
Earnie stood straight as an arrow and cleared his throat, “Hello, Mother.”
Seamus had been at it all day with his blowtorch all day, but it was no use. The weather just wasn't going to let up. He tossed his welding equipment aside and poked his tongue through the gap where he was missing a tooth, as was his nervous habit.
It’s time for a drink, he thought, standing and brushing off his frozen beard.
He glanced back at the ice-caked docks where Riley and David Nubar aimlessly tended to stiffened shiplines.
“I’m goin’ for a puff, Dave!” he hollered at them.
“We’re good boss!” Riley shouted back and waved him off.
Once in his shack, Seamus stomped off the snow, and threw another bucket of coal into the fire. He poured a generous amount of cheap whisky into a copper mug and collapsed into an ancient recliner.
“Ooof, I’m gettin’ too old for this shit,” he said to noone at all, as he lit a nub of previously abandoned cigar.
He eyed the radio on the wall with apprehension.
What’s she think she’s doin’ tryin’ come up in the dead of winter anyways? This wench wants the impossible, he took a gulp, and I seen her when she don’t get her way.
He shuddered at the thought.
This was not a call he was looking forward to making.
Comments (4)
See all