A Portal to Leya (7 page)

“Then buy something and
I’ll ring you up.”

“You’re not busy.”

“That's a matter of
perspective.”

“So in your
perspective, you are busy?”

“I think I am so I am. And stalkers who aren’t
buying anything need to go away.”

That was my cue. I walked away from the checkout,
towards the center of the store. I stood in front of displays of Black Diamond
tuna on sale for $1.29 a can and apple juice, store brand for $ 1.99 and waited
for Benny boy to rescue me. I never told anyone this (not even Leya) but when I
was little I used to like to walk up and down the aisles and touch the rows of
cans and jars and boxes. I'd blink my eyes till the images blurred into a
stream of light and colors. I felt a surge of vibrations from the fluorescent
lights. I really did. Now, I needed to stand and wait because I lost Ben and I
wasn’t sure what else to do. I can't do the things I want to do like touch the
buttons on the coffee bean grinder or scan items on the self-checkout. Besides,
Trudy called me a freak and a stalker. I felt weird after that. Maybe I am a
freak. I mean who spends time blogging to a dead person? (sorry Leya) I figured
if I stood very still and didn’t move no one would notice me. I decided I'd
look up stalker when I got home. Trudy is smart. She talks fast, mutters, uses Language
in weird ways. It confuses me when people do that. It takes time for me to
process what people say and what they really mean. I hate that about me. It was
so easy to talk to Leya. When I got home, I looked up stalker because I’m just
weird that way.

Stalker:

a.
A stem or main axis of a herbaceous planet

Source:
Free Online Dictionary

Then
right underneath I found
Psycho stalker
and the legal definition:

Criminal
activity consisting of the repeated following and harassing of another person.

Obviously,
Trudy meant the second definition. Maybe I am a stalker. I do spy on her. Maybe
she knows I do it! I think I’m fixating on Trudy. I don’t see a problem
fixating on the inanimate or the deceased (sorry) but, I mean, Trudy is real. I
wish Leya was still real. I wish she were somewhere else besides in my head. I
wish I could touch her, kiss her. I would do it. But she’s not here,
physically. And Trudy…well, she is here.

Lance

COMMENTS

Heather
u
r so cool, Lance. I miss you!!! : ( Please come back to school!

Anonymous
no, don’t think you’d be categorized as a stalker. But be careful. Remember the
perjury charges.

Jabberwocky9
she
sounds like a witch.

@jabberwocky9
do you mean a witch as in WICCA? Or just that she’s wicked. I think she is just
that way. She really is nice. I think she tried to be funny. I just don't
always get her jokes!!

Jabberwock9
LOL!!!!

@
heather
I would rather be home with good old Don Banks—no offense.

DESIRE

I saw Trudy outside this morning @ 7:03 A.M.. I was
unusually brave. I’ve been getting a ride to school, so I had to come up with
an excuse for Dorrie. She’s always on me lately. I said I needed to get
information from a friend. Of course she asked, who, and I had to tell her,
Trudy Markus. And then she looked at me mistrustfully and I got mad because
she’s a hypocrite and it's not fair that anyone should be judged based on
appearances. So I told her to take her own advice for once, not to judge a book
by its cover, and she said fine, just be careful. And that was that. I love it
when Dorrie is resigned. Honestly, I don't think I could be so easy going and
that's why I might never have kids. I like being right too much. So I ran
outside and had to catch up with Trudy. I shouted to her but she kept walking.
But after the second shout, she stopped and turned.

“What do you want?” she asked in a not-you-again
tone.

“I have a question,” I said. I wasn’t caving.

“What else is new?”

“What do you mean?”

“Forget it! What is your question?

“Do you know Neal is going to be convicted?” I got
right to the point.

“Highly doubtful,” she said.

“Do you know he has no
alibi and he's the prime suspect?”

“He has a good lawyer.
He'll get off,” she insisted.

“Get off?”

“Be acquitted. He'll be
acquitted, found not guilty? In fact, it probably won't go to trial.

“I think it could. Then what will you do?”

“I talked to Neal and he's not concerned. So, I’m
not either.” She was so damn smug. But I liked it.

“That's crazy! How could he not be concerned? Does
he want to go to prison? Or maybe he really did it and feels guilty. That's it.
He must be guilty! I think you’re lying.” I was shaking at this point.

“You're a complete dolt. Of course he didn't murder
anyone. Neal is definitely not a murderer.”

“How do you know?” I was shaking but excited from
the intensity.

“I know, believe me. He was with me like I said.”

“Why don’t you tell? Why? I don’t understand how you
could keep this a secret and then expect me to do the same?”

“Ok. That’s it. I’m done talking.”

Trudy reached into her pocket then and took out one
of her brown cigarettes. She flicked a Zippo lighter with a Pac Man design and
lit it. I never saw a lighter with a Pac Man design. The smoke blew right up my
nose and burned. I liked it. I really wanted to hold the lighter, check out the
design. Ok, so I’ll admit I get easily distracted by these things. But when I
asked, she rolled her eyes and slipped it into her pocket. Then she started
walking fast. I switched back to the topic of Neal and she told me to get the
hell away so I crossed the street and walked on the other side.

I am not sure how she could think Neal will get off.
But it bothered me all day. I kept thinking about Trudy smoking her brown
cigarettes, her head thrown back, blowing smoke rings up into the air, that Pac
Man lighter. I decided that I definitely needed to see her again. That's how I
am. I mean I know I don’t like to be wrong and I do get stuck on a thing. But I
hope I’m not a stalker. I wonder if stalkers know it. I know stalkers are
criminals, most of them. I don’t want to be a criminal. I’m so damn vulnerable
I can’t stand it. I suddenly feel a tremendous need to be with Trudy. And when
I think of Trudy, I’m not thinking about Leya. And this makes me feel guilty
and slightly off kilter.

Lance

COMMENTS

Heather
You
won’t want to hear it but I’d be careful, Lance. I do know Trudy hangs out with
a bad group. You are not so stable right now. Give yourself some more time. : )
just trying to help.

@heather
not your concern

THE
VISIT

Benny boy wants to talk. He comes into my room and
stands by the window. He does this every morning lately. He just stands there.
What a buffoon. Adults are so damn weird sometimes. And so incredibly dull most
of the time. He asks how I’m doing, talks about the sun setting, the bad
weather or some other trivial matter like how he wants to get the book shelf
finished for Dorrie as a Christmas gift, and would I consider helping him.
Today, he came in and talked about the Blackwater’s house. “Looks like they
finally put their Halloween decorations away and got some lights on their
tree,” he said to me. I didn’t mention the Nativity scene because he wouldn’t
have remembered it. He wouldn’t know how Leya and I set it up together. I
wasn’t going to mention it either. What’s the point? He just stood there
waiting for me to say something. Then he said “You might want to consider
visiting. I’m sure they’d love to see you, Lance.” I didn’t say a word. I could
tell he was being careful. He looked at me with this stupid dreamy expression.
I couldn’t discern. I’m tired of trying to figure out what someone is feeling,
thinking, wanting from me.

But when he walked out of the room, I started
thinking about the Nativity scene. And then I thought about what would make Leya
happy. Benny boy’s ploy worked. He’s a clever man.

I went to the Blackwater’s
house. I was numb when I walked up to the door. Not cold numb, but emotionally
numb. I don’t recall most of it. It’s the only way I could do it. I rang the
bell. I imagined Leya’s footsteps, her voice yelling COME IN! Instead, it was
her mom. She was old looking, older than I remember, as if she forgot to wash
her face, or put on makeup, or whatever it is old people do to look decent. At
first I wanted to run. She was staring at me with this strange look on her
face. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was Leya; she looked the same but
different. I’m sorry to say these things. But it’s the truth. Here’s the gist
of the conversation (after the initial small talk):

“I was wondering about
the Nativity scene,” I said.

“Oh, well, I guess we just didn't get to it this
year, Lance.” Her voice cracked when she said this, and I felt like I wanted to
turn and run. I sensed she was going to break down right in front of me.

“I thought I could help you with it.”

“Help with what?”

“I could help with the Nativity scene. I helped Leya
set it up last year and the year before.”

“Yes...that's right. Leya was the one to remind us
about it. She loved doing it.”

“I could set it up.”

“You could set it up?” she asked in a foggy way as
if she were disconnecting.

“Yes. I could do it for you.”

“Oh, I see. Well that is a nice gesture, Lance. And
I think Leya would want that. I think she would. So, why don't you come by on
Saturday? We won’t be home but I'll leave the shed unlocked for you. Do you
know where it's kept?”

“Yes. I know. I helped Leya a couple of times.”

“I guess you did. I don't doubt it. Leya was so fond
of you, Lance.”

I wasn't sure what else to say then so I said
goodbye and left her standing at the doorway. I just left her there alone like
I left Leya, that night she rode off by herself to the dance. I should have
been with her. I watched her ride off into the dark, alone. I shouldn’t have
let her go alone. Mrs. Blackwater was still there when I turned back. She was
frozen or something. I decided it was an overload of negativity associated with
loss that made her shut down. She would never be the same. Nothing would ever
be normal again. I decided I would help with the Nativity scene, but I never
wanted to go back there again.

Lance

COMMENTS

Susanne
I
thought you’d appreciate this one from Leya.

Hi,
Suz!

I
feel so weird. Lance and I set up the Nativity and it was making me so sad for
some reason. I didn’t tell Lance. But it was a weird feeling. I felt as if it
was our last time. I don’t know why! After he left, I was bawling. What is the
matter with me, Suz? Do you think I’m depressed? I just love Lance so much.  I
think of him as a brother. I hate that I’m an only child. After he left, I felt
so incredibly lonely! Come over tonight. Please!!! We can make rice crispy
treats. I need some company. Neal has been so annoying. I don’t want him
anywhere near me. And Suz if you don’t come over I might be tempted to text
him. Lance isn’t picking up his phone!!! I think he’s out somewhere.

Hugs,
Leya

@susanne
she had a premonition. I’m not surprised. I wish I was there for her.

BROKEN

I broke down. I’m a confirmed coward. I walked over
to 19 Braxton Road. I kept thinking about the email, how Leya felt the last time
we set up the Nativity scene, how she needed me that night and I didn’t pick up
my phone. I was feeling off right from the start. In fact if someone was home,
I might have said I was sick. But I had to stay, to stick it out. I opened the
shed in the backyard. I found the pieces exactly where Leya and I left them
last year in the corner of the shed, covered with a green wool blanket. She refused
to use a plastic tarp. Instead, she went inside and brought out a wool blanket from
the closet. I told her she was nutty. I took it off, held it up to my nose and
smelled it, remembering that she was the last one to touch it. I folded it
nicely and placed it down next to the pieces. I carried each piece out to the
front of the yard, next to the spotlight. I wanted to make sure each one got
special treatment. That’s what she told me to do. I remembered what she said:
my
Aunt Julia made these and she’s very religious and had each sculpture blessed
and everything. God knows what would happen if one were to break,
you had
said. I brought out the Manger and saved the Baby Jesus for last like we always
did. I lifted him up and (here’s where it gets weird) I noticed his left hand
was broken off. My heart pounded. My head was spinning. I had to find the hand.
I saw spots and I could barely focus. And then I found it concealed under a
piece of the wool blanket. I bent down and picked it up. My thoughts raced. I
needed to get out of the shed. I couldn’t breathe. The broken hand was an omen,
I decided. I had an anxiety attack right there in the shed. I ran, and I mean
ran, to the front yard. I collapsed down next to the Nativity scene. A sharp
piece of the broken hand pierced my palm. I pressed harder. I liked the pain. I
deserved the pain. I deserved to bleed. That’s exactly what I was thinking. I
would have cut my wrist but I didn’t know how to do it. I thought I should be
dead. It was a major brain glitch, an overload; I rocked back and forth like an
idiot, holding the Baby Jesus, the broken hand stuck in my palm, and I knew I
couldn’t fix it so I just sat there frozen. I was such a freak. In fact, I
can’t believe I’m confessing all this on a public blog. At some point, the sky
turned grey and sleet pricked my cheeks like pins, and I felt someone, a
presence. I was convinced it was Leya. I could sense her standing next to me. I
called her name. And then I felt a hand on my shoulder and I looked up and I
saw her, Leya, standing over me. I would have bet my life on it being Leya. But
then it was someone else. “Come on, dude. What are you doing? It’s cold out
here. Let’s go.” I looked up then and saw Trudy Markus.