A Portal to Leya (6 page)

So, yesterday she tried to take some pills or hang
herself. I’m not sure exactly. Ben told me all he knows. She’s alive. I might
try to visit her. I don’t know how she could WANT to kill herself. Leya never
wanted to die and she did. Trudy wanted to and she didn’t. I wonder if she’ll
try again. If she does die, I hate to say it…but then Neal won’t have an alibi
at all. Winks suck.

Lance

COMMENTS

Susanne
we
were way too hard on Trudy. I know. I’m guilty of it too.

Heather
she
gives me the creeps. Maybe she was nice when she was young. But now she’s not
very friendly.

@
heather you shouldn’t prejudge someone before you know them. Do you know Trudy?
I do and I know she’s decent.

***DECEMBER***

COWARD:
me

I
never did go to Trudy’s house. I couldn’t. She took pills, according to Ben. I
don’t know what kind. I should have gone to her house. But I didn’t. I’m an
official coward now. Leya would say go.
Chin up, Lance.
I can’t get her
out of my head. But now I have Trudy too, and she is different, she’s here,
alive, right up the street, and I’m still thinking about her, and I’m wondering
how she’s doing. I feel guilty for thinking about her so much. I think Leya can
read my thoughts. I remember Trudy’s tangerine lip gloss, the way her puffy
lips shimmered. I wonder how she is now. Maybe I made her want to die. I could
have been the one to push her over the edge. I know if it were me, I’d have
jumped off a cliff. No, I really don’t know how I’d do it. I’ve thought about
it, killing myself, especially lately so I can be with Leya. But I’m a coward.
I’m too scared to even do that. Man I’m a coward, a Sir Lancelot FAIL.

Lance

COMMENTS

2cents
I told you, get some help dude.

@2cents
Listen, either offer productive advice, or I’d rather you not post here
anymore.

MIXED
ENERGY SIGNALS

I
watch Trudy. I watch her walk by the house on her way to school. I hide behind
the blinds. I know if she saw me she’d think I was a real psychopath. She’s not
like Leya at all. But there is something about her. I want to talk to her. I
wish I wasn’t so scared all the time. I wish I had more courage like Leya. She
could talk to anyone. Not me. I get shaky. I can’t breathe and then I walk
away. It’s anxiety. I have way too much of it. People stare at me like I’m a
lunatic. I don’t want to be crazy. I don’t know how to be normal. Sometimes, I
really do despise myself. I am the way I am. I can’t explain why. And really,
it’s not like I hate myself like Trudy. I would never try to kill myself. I’m
too scared. Leya used to say
Breath Lance, just breathe in and out
. I’d
laugh at her and feel so much better. She’d laugh too. She had a great sense of
humor. I think of Francis and how he has to dodge bombs and jump from airplanes.
That makes me less afraid. The thing is I get mixed energy singles, and then I
get overloaded and I can’t read the real message and I get confused. I remember
in health we had to read an article about the connection between stress and
illness. Your immune system can be sabotaged from too many squiggly signals. I
think I’m dying inadvertently. I’m not ready. Not yet! I want to live. (I
think)

Lance

COMMENTS

2cents
I’m
telling you take some meds, get some real help dude. Or try a shot or two of
JD. And go talk to someone who is alive like Trudy. She needs some support.

@2cents
JD?

2cents
Jack Daniel’s my man. Do you live under a rock?

@
2cents AH! Now, you’re finally making sense.

THE
FADED FUSCHIA

I feel off. The weather is freaky, eerie. I didn’t
see Trudy this morning. I want to see her. like I want her mom’s warm brownies.
That’s weird, I know. But it’s the weekend, so I won’t see her. I’m stuck on
her. She is my latest obsession. I have to wait until Monday. And the weather
is weird for December. The meteorologist reported an average temperature of 50
degrees for December. Today it was 65! Ben and Dorrie convinced me to take a
walk around Elizabeth Park. She caught me at the tail end of a contrived laugh
(that’s all I can muster). “It will be good for you,” she and Benny said. They
were begging. I thought to myself how would they know what is good for me? But
I decided to go. I don’t know why. I guess I really wanted to be there—in the
spot where Leya took her last breath. Morbid, I know. I wasn’t feeling scared,
or sad, interestingly. I felt neutral, numb, like I was disconnected. It was
warm; the sun was shining and melting small patches of snow. We walked through
the back entrance, off Prospect Avenue. Last winter was a record breaker. If it
were last winter, we wouldn’t have a path to walk on. I was thinking about all
this stuff. But, I tried not to block the energy waves too much. I wanted to
free up space to allow Leya in. She was here just two months ago. She took her
last breath a few feet from where I stood. She died violently, so her waves
would be more concentrated in the place where she died. Ben and Dorrie walked
ahead of me, holding hands. Then we get closer to it, the spot, and I started
to feel an increased numbness. I couldn’t move. I started to feel a tingling
like an itch, a chill…something. Then I saw Trudy Markus, moving towards me,
smoke lingering like a fog above her head. “What are you doing here?” I asked
her when she was a few feet away.

“Same thing you as you I guess.

“You’re okay,” I said.

“What do you mean?” She
looked perturbed.

“I mean, you didn’t
die.”  

“I’m here, right?”

“I don’t know. One can
never know. Maybe you’re not really Trudy. Maybe you’re a ghost or an alien
that has invaded Trudy Markus’s body.” I was on a roll. I never felt so
confident.

“Maybe,” she said.

“Leya was murdered here, you know.” (I don’t know
why I said it).

“I know. I know. What about it?” she asked.

“Residual energy pools in areas where there was a
violent crime.” I don’t know why I was saying these things to Trudy Markus.

“I think you’re losing it, dude,” she said.

“I don’t feel anything. I’m not sure why,” I
confessed.

“Like I said, you’re
losing it. There’s nothing to feel. It’s Elizabeth Park. It was Elizabeth Park
before Leya was murdered and it’s the same Elizabeth Park now that she’s dead.”

“I don’t know about
that. The energies remain behind and alter the atmosphere permanently,” I
explained.

Trudy cared less. She stared
at me like I was a lunatic. She took a drag. Her cigarette looked like a thin
cigar. She blew the smoke circles into the air. I watched the circles
dissipate. And then Leya returned like a paused movie clip resuming:

August—

The air is ripe with
roses ( I love that). We ride our bikes under an arch of reds and pinks and
stop midway: Leya puts her palm over the tops of the roses hanging off the
arches:
Oh my God! I LOVE this color!
she shouts. She was so excited.
That was Leya, always happy about small things.

“It’s fuchsia.” I say.
I watch her bend into the roses and inhale; her shirt lifts revealing her tanned
back. I want to touch it. I feel a flutter of excitement which turns into a
jarring like an electrical charge. I switch to facts. “Did you know there are
800 types of roses in this park? 800 imagine?”

Wow! No, I didn’t know
that…the fuchsias are definitely my favorite
.

“Elizabeth Park is
listed on the National Register of Historic Places.”

Oh, yeah?

“There are 1500 plants
and 102 acres. In 1894, Charles M. Pond bequeathed his estate to the city of
Hartford but he requested it be named after his deceased wife, Elizabeth.” (I
knew Leya would appreciate that. No one else would).

Neat! I like that
story. How do you know?

“It’s on a plaque at
the entrance. And we studied it in a community unit in fourth grade.”

Oh, geez. I can’t
remember that far back!

“You know our school is
named after Charles Pond, right?”

Yes! I know that much,
brat!

She throws a handful of
fuchsia petals in my direction; the wind catches them and they float downward,
slowly; she smiles and rides off ahead of me, through the arch. I watch as she
moves further away from me, along the grass, standing as she pedals, her body
moving up and down, her pony tail flipping side to side, framed in an arch of
green and fuchsia. I imagine wrapping my arms around her waist.

I LOVE the fuchsia
!
she shouts one more time, the last time she would say it.

I wonder what it means to love a color,
or a rose. I want to love like you, I had thought at the time.

“Are you zoning out or
what?” Trudy asked

“I was just thinking
about Leya, the last time we were here. It was vivid,” I admitted. It felt good
telling Trudy. I’m not sure why.

“
Well,
time for reality, Mr. Lance Bryce.”

I watched Trudy take
another drag. Hang her head back and exhale slow and it was sensual, seductive.
I thought that. I don’t know why. She walked away. I said “Bye”
and she
waved without turning back. I am intrigued by Trudy Markus.

Today, when the sun is
setting and the day has cooled and breath hangs like Trudy’s smoke in the air,
I think of Leya, how she will return to Elizabeth Park against her will. That
was my last thought before I left Elizabeth Park. I loved her. I know now. I
know the electrical jolt, that jarring was my desire for her; but I can’t do
anything about it. Life isn’t fair. As a matter of fact, most times, it sucks.

Lance

COMMENTS

Jabberwocky9
I
know you were expecting something to happen at the park, but I agree with
Trudy; it doesn’t always work that way. Chin up like Leya used to say. Glad you
saw Trudy. But you need to really TALK to her about YKW!!! The perjury issue is
majorly important wouldn’t you say? I think you are digging Trudy. I think
that’s cool too.

Heather
Aw!
Thanks for sharing. And I’m not mad at you, even if you are rude to me. I love
Elizabeth Park. Maybe we can meet there one day? I agree with jabberwock9. You
really should do something about that information. I saw you today at your
locker. You seemed so lost. You looked frozen! You’ve missed so much school
lately. Sorry about calling you that name. I love your hair, btw.

ROCK:
me

Trudy
smokes thin brown cigarettes. I don’t think they are cigars. They have a nice
cherry smell. If my window is Leya, I can smell her before I see her. I watch
her every day now walking past. I think I will try to talk to her tomorrow. The
problem is when I think of it, I start to shake. I’m a freak who can’t walk or
talk. I’m a rock. I need Leya to charge me up. I’ve been staying home from
school so much that Dorrie hired a tutor, Don Banks. He’s old and British
sounding. He called me bewildering. I guess because I don’t talk. Why should I
talk? Words are for the living.

Lance

COMMENTS

Anonymous
I’ve
tried them. I quit a few years ago.

Heather
I hope you return to school soon! : (

STALKER:
me

I think I’m a stalker. Today, I went to the grocery
store with Ben to buy brownie mix and whipped cream—Dorrie's request. I
actually planted the seed because I had been thinking about Trudy’s mom and her
warm brownies. Well, point being, guess who was at the checkout? TRUDY! It must
be fate that or she is sending me signals. She has been stuck in my head. I
don’t know if it’s because of the perjury or the attempted suicide or something
else. I walked past Trudy and she was wearing a gold tee-shirt with the Shopping
Bag logo on the left side and a name tag on her right side. But she was looking
down and didn't see me. “You look bright in your gold shirt,” I said. Honestly,
it was a putridly gaudy color (I didn’t say that). She looked up and made a
weird face at me and raised her eyebrows as if she didn't hear me.

“
I didn't know you
worked at Shopping Bag,” I said.

“Well I didn't exactly broadcast it.”

“Do you like this job?” I asked her.

“Love it. It's my dream, you know, to be head
cashier, move up to management so I can wear the purple shirt,” she answered in
her smug-Trudy manner.

“Hey, sounds like a
plan.” After I said this she laughed and shook her head.

“Listen, I'm busy dude
can't talk now,” she said, and I sensed she was done with me, but it didn’t
matter. I was relentless.

“I was just wondering
why you were with Neal that night? Do you really like Neal that way?”

“I gotta work now.”

“I’m your only
customer.”