Clouds

  Chapter 3

  That Friday passed, bringing a stormy Saturday morning. Clouds draped the town of Miles like curtains on a stage. Rain showered, thunder clashed, lightning cracked; the storm began at 8:15 am. Grant slept heavily, until being woken by a loud clash, and a shaky rumble of the house. He woke up with his short brown hair matted to his flat forehead, his taut lids covering sleepy eyes, and his heart full. It had been a long time since Grant was able to wake up to happiness. In fact, as he blinked his eyes wearily, he couldn't remember a time happiness filled him. Even though the atmosphere had taken a sick day, Grant was anything but.

  After many years of emptiness, Grant felt full. Maybe it was just love fixing it for the moment. Then again, maybe it wasn't a temporary fix. Maybe this beautiful girl was the solution to emptiness. Of course he was skeptical. What if she wasn't the happiness he had longed for? What if she wasn't what she appeared to be?

  All he could think to ask himself were questions of doubt. It was as it had always been. But, deep down Grant knew that she was the one for him. He knew she would be there to love, and care for. Sometimes he just had to take somebody's word for what it was, instead of dissecting the smallest of details.

  Ultimately, the decision to get out of bed, shower, and feed a famished self were one of his easiest. Even though Grant had always been one to test the water before jumping in, his approach on Chelsea wasn't to be careful. It wasn't to listen to the pessimistic poltergeist presence. No! For too long Grant had been distrusting of so many people, that only one stuck. And even that friend was beginning to slip. Chelsea was Grant's renewal to the outside.

  Both were deeply wounded people, searching out an anecdote for happiness. Chelsea was swimming in a sea of guilt over the death of her sister; Grant was facing demons wearing memories as costumes. But, maybe together they would make each other full. It was a big maybe, but it really was Grant's last hope. He had been standing over a cliff, ready to plummet into a dark abyss. Grant hadn't jumped yet because of his reluctance. Death didn't scare him. Death was easy to grasp onto. What did scare him was the possibility of something after.

  Now though, he wasn't standing over a cliff. Grant was happy. The abyss that had called him was lurking in that deep dark chasm, nowhere near him. Not anymore. For once in a very long time, he was able to look at the clouds and see the silver lining everyone spoke of. Happiness showered him, frenetic thoughts filled his head, and a smile crawled onto his chapped lips.

  He now sat in his car, listening to rain pitter patter against the window, and watching it seep through a wearing sill on the passenger side. After a few soft beeps, Grant's pocket vibrated. He dug in and pulled out his cell: What r u up to? -Bobby-

  After reading it once, Grant flipped his phone shut. He couldn't send text messages. Bobby realized this, and about a minute later the phone rang. Grant let it ring twice, and then answered:

  "Hello" he said while yawning.

  "Hey." Bobby answered. "What are you doing?"

  "Nothing really." he tapped his hand on the steering wheel. "You wanna hang out?"

  "Sure. I gotta get out of this house for a while. Dad just shit himself."

  "God," Grant allowed a moment of silence. "Um, I can pick you up."

  "Alright, thanks, man."

  "Sure." replied Grant. "I'll be over in a minute or so." And within a minute, he pulled the tires of his '94 Mercury Sable up to the house on Three Roads Ave, and Maple Point. Grant sat outside of the house, idling. After a few minutes, Bobby ran out quickly. His eyes were in a fester and his cheeks were powdered in red. He opened the car door and entered.

  "Hey." said Grant. "What's wrong?"

  "I'm not gonna bug you with it, Grant." Bobby said under his breath.

  "I really don't mind, man. Anything I can do to help?"

  "It's everything. Every time I look at my dad's face, I see humiliation. I want him to die, just so he doesn't have to hurt anymore." Bobby shook his long hair into individual wet strands.

  "Do you really want that though? I mean isn't it better to have a dad, than to not have one at all?"

  "I thought so," he paused. "But now I'm not so sure. I mean, he's not here anymore. Every day he moans in agony and it makes me want to renounce God. But, I don't, because He's the only one who can save him."

  "I felt the same way on the drive to see my dad. I pretty much gave Him an ultimatum. But, I've never believed, Bobby. You have for a long time."

  "Time changes things, Grant." Bobby said softly, while pulling his thick rimmed frames from his face, and wiping raindrops from the lenses. "I can't say how I'll feel when that day comes. I want to say I'll continue believing, but I can't say that. It feels like I would be lying."

  "Yeah, I don't know." Grant rubbed his face, and then began driving. "So, yesterday I met someone."

  "What do you mean?" Bobby glanced over at him.

  "I mean I have a girlfriend."

  "Wow." he widened his eyes. "That's great, but I didn't think you were interested in dating."

  "I know I used to say that, but when I said it, I didn't know how it felt."

  "Are you smitten, Grant?" asked Bobby while smiling.

  "Yeah, I think so." he nodded his head, and smiled as well.

  "Then when do I get to meet this girl?"

  "Right now," Grant pulled up to Chelsea's house, and stopped the car. "You'll like her. I know you will."

  "Okay," Bobby furrowed his brow, and shook his head. "So I'm meeting her now?"

  "Yeah,"

  "But, I'm having a really bad day, man. It'll be awkward as hell."

  "You're awkward in front of everybody, Bobby. You're my best friend. She is my girlfriend. It's kind of important that you two meet each other."

  "Alright," he sighed. "Next time warn me or something."

  "Okay, but I didn't warn her" Grant opened the door smiling.

  "What?" Bobby asked discreetly. "What do you mean?"

  "She doesn't know you are coming. Surprise." Grant shut the door, using his arm as an umbrella, and ran up to her white house with red shutters. Bobby followed, not as quickly. In fact he dragged his feet, hung his head, and sighed. Grant didn't know all of the reasons why Bobby had quit school; he assumed it was his father's terminal condition. And that it was, but everything branched out from there. Even though his father hadn't died yet, something that had made Bobby, Bobby, had.

  Grant walked onto the porch. Bobby followed. He knocked a couple of times, put his hands in his pockets, and waited for her to answer. After twenty seconds of standing in the storm, the door opened, and Chelsea stood there smiling.

  "Hey." she said mid-blush.

  "Hi." Grant answered smitten. "This is Bobby."

  "Hi, Bobby,"

  "Hello." he answered with a clenched jaw, and a slight head nod.

  "So, what do you want to do?" asked Grant.

  "Well, daddy is in the den, mom is baking cookies. We could watch a movie or something."

  "All right," Grant looked over at an awkward Bobby, shook his head with a grin, and then stepped in the house.

  "You can come in too, Bobby." Chelsea said while running her fingers through freshly weaved hair.

  "Ok." he answered quietly.

  All three walked up the stairs, down a hall, and into her room.

  "So," Grant said. "How are you doing today?"

  "Better." she answered. "I'm happy."

  "Good."

  "Yeah," she smiled. "So Bobby, tell me a little about yourself."

  "Um," he was confused. "Well I really don't do much."

  "Neither do I. I mean I draw some, but not very well."

  "Yeah, I draw too. It's fun I guess. But, I dropped out of school, so I'm not very active."

  "I just graduated, taking online classes. I didn't like school. I tried high school for a few months-eh, wasn't for me." she said while biting her lip.

  "I've never seen you in the high school," Grant said.

  "I was only there for like
maybe two months in ninth grade. I was really quiet." she answered. "It doesn't matter. It's the past."

  Bobby nodded his head in agreement, "Yeah, I got my G.E.D a couple of years ago. It wasn't for me either.

  Grant changed the subject. "So guys," Grant clapped his hands once. "What do you wanna do?"

  "Doesn't matter." answered Bobby. "I'm fine just sitting and talking."

  Not much more happened that day. After a little while Bobby crawled out of his shell; he liked Chelsea. Grant found her to be even more beautiful the second day through. Finally, things were starting to look up. Brighter things were in the future, he just knew it.

  Every day brought a same monotony: school was endured, a job at The Family Restaurant was found, and his mother's personal life had been accepted. Grant was happy. Why shouldn't his mother be? Soon, days turned into months. Everything grew, including Grant and Chelsea's relationship. What started as smitten eyes, love laced sighs, and infatuated thoughts, were now intimate moments, sexual productivity, and long talks beneath a starry sky. They were closer than ever. Neither Grant nor Chelsea were shut away emotionally, not anymore.

  This day, which was a very bright Thursday in December of 2011, was just another day. The wind was harrowing; the clouds were pieces of torn fabric strewn about; the ground was covered in twelve inches of snow, and Christmas was on the mind. Grant had been working at The Family Restaurant for a few months now; he was a busboy. Little did Chelsea know that his future plans were much more than being something with her. From day one at the job, his priority was that one ring, the one that sat behind a plexiglass window at Hal's Diamond store, the ring with a 14k setting and a diamond sitting in the middle, with smaller ones lining the edges. It was the PERFECT ring!

  The PERFECT ring would have to wait though. Grant had only begun to scrape away at the $3,000 dollar price tag; mostly because he had to pay the cable/internet bill and car insurance monthly. It was a goal involving gradual accruement. But, it would be worth it, right? Grant had no doubt that when the time came, she would shed a tear, hold out her pretty little finger, and say yes within a gasp.

  It was like any other day that Thursday. Grant had just returned from a seven hour shift at work. He entered his house, said hello to his mother and sister, slipped off his shoes, and went to bed. For the first twenty minutes or so, he was aware of the light above him, the blaring TV next to him, and the blanket across him. But, after those first twenty minutes, his awareness slipped into an ongoing illusion of the mind:

  "I'm happy!" his thoughts announced to open air. "I'm happy!" Grant had not yet opened his eyes to the verbal jubilation his mind exclaimed continuously. But, when he did, he found himself standing in his candle lit house. "I'm happy!"

  "No you're not." his father answered, stepping from the shadow. "You never will be."

  "I'm happy." Grant now stood aware of the senseless frenetic thoughts. He had no control over it. "I'm happy!" it blurted out just the same, but every time he said it, it became more apparent that he wasn't.

  "I'm proud of you, kiddo. You escaped your loneliness, and self-loathing. Hell, you've escaped the memory of me."

  "I'll never escape the memory of you. You haunt me every day. You're dead, why can't you just die?!"

  "You keep me alive, kiddo. Your guilt only feeds this memory. I told you to run, but you didn't. You never listened to me. You renounced God when I said to believe in Him. You came back when I told you to leave."

  "I tried." whispered Grant, now able to control the erratic voices.

  "Not hard enough!" Suddenly his father's head split open, and horns grew. "I told you to run!"

  "I'm trying." his feet were stuck to the floor. "Please, dad, help me."

  "No!" The monster that had been haunting him since his father's death stepped out of the shadows. From his temples came blood tinged horns, his chin and neck were now a bloody mouth with teeth jutting out of pale skin; his father's head sat atop lifelessly.

  "Da-dad?" he asked helplessly. "Please help me."

  "Sorry, kiddo." the head atop the bloody mouth spoke candidly, breaking through pervasive growls. "This is your demon, not mine."

  "What do I do?"

  "Survive." Several tongues flailed about, odors engulfed the air; after ten years his demon had taken form in the body of an abstract nightmare. It took one step after another, until standing a foot above his six foot self.

  "H-h-how?" he stuttered.

  "Forgive yourself." The abstract demon brought it's hand up to his face, and caressed his cheek lightly. "Grant?" the voice had grown feminine.

  "Leave me alone." Grant pushed it's hand away.

  "Grant?" the feminine voice called again as It placed it's hand back on his face...

  He awoke with the side of Chelsea's hand brushing across his cheek. At first, Grant was tongue tied. Was it that easy? Would it all go away if he could just forgive himself?

  "Hey," she smiled. "Are you okay?"

  "Ye-yeah, I just had a nightmare."

  "Was it bad? You looked really scared."

  "I was just facing old demons, guilt over my father's death."

  "How can you feel guilt? What could have you done differently?"

  "Sometimes people feel guilt for what they didn't do. It goes both ways."

  "I guess." she sighed.

  "Have you forgiven yourself for the death of Theresa?"

  "I don't think I'll ever forgive myself completely."

  "Yeah, I think I understand." Grant lifted his head off the bed, only to find his lips meeting hers. She crawled into bed with him, rubbed his chest with her fingers, and soon they found themselves naked and satisfied. "What time is it?"

  "Um," she pulled her phone from her pants on the floor. "Like 9:00."

  "Alright," Grant sighed relief, while wrapping his arm around her, and kissing her forehead "That was good."

  "Keeps getting better and better." she laughed. "Apparently Christmas sex is the best."

  "Maybe it's just the jolly spirit of the season." Grant smiled. Life was good. Though, did that mean bad things wouldn't happen? Grant couldn't escape his belief that happiness is only temporary. He didn't want to believe that bad things were coming. But, they were.

  Finally, after countless hours of working at The Family Restaurant, and another year and a half's passing, Grant had saved up enough to buy her the three thousand dollar ring.

  Meanwhile, Bobby's dad had been healed: a lasting remission. Bobby tried to obtain the faith he once had, but couldn't. He knew the day was coming. It was inevitable. God tended to wave happiness in front of his face, only to pull it away again. Even though his father was looking healthy and feeling better, it didn't mean he was better. It was only temporary.

  It was May 14th of 2013, a Tuesday. Grant was standing outside, cupping his sight into tunnel vision, and pressing his face against the plexiglass window of Hal's Diamond store. He couldn't help but smile. It sat encased in a plastic box, shimmering, winking purity. Eagerness led Grant into the small store, over to the plastic box, and up to the counter. It sat in his hand, provoking subtle jubilation within.

  "Finally got it, huh, Grant?" Hal said with a smile as he rubbed his thick goatee.

  "Yeah, Hal." he answered. "Thank you so much for saving it."

  "Don't mention it. You're a good kid. And that girl of yours is a keeper. You be good to her."

  "I will," he glanced up while pulling a credit card from his wallet. "I promise, Hal."

  "Good." Hal grabbed the credit card, slid it through the machine, pushed a few buttons, and gave him a receipt. "Keep me posted." he gave the card back, and pulled the ring out of its plastic casing.

  "Alright, thanks again." with his head held high, Grant left the store, placing the wine colored velvet box in his pocket. It didn't matter how high Grant stood. No height was high enough to leave reality behind. Happiness was nothing but illusion. He couldn't be happy; life wouldn't allow it. All it did was allow glimpses of someone else's hap
piness.

  Grant was no longer the wary, touch-my-toe-in-the-water-before-jumping-in kind of a guy. He had learned to trust, despite the voices telling him different. This was his life; it was time to start living it. Spontaneity led him to happiness; wariness led him to seclusion, and loneliness. A large portion of his life had been lived in loneliness. But, finally his future was looking bright.

  Grant opened his car door, and started it. After driving by the high school, coming to a four way intersection, and taking a right, Grant arrived in front of his house. There was a lot to do before the day became night. The first thing was to grab the mail from his mailbox out front. Grant stepped out of his car, pinning the secret in his pocket, and smiling.

  He hummed while opening the mailbox, pulling out the mail, and sorting through: bills, a Hallmark card, and the LETTER. Sitting quietly at the bottom of eight pieces of mail was the LETTER. Instead of humming, Grant found tears building up in his eyes.

  "You can't be doing this to me." he said, closing his eyes. "Not now!"

  America was at war, and the younglings were called:

  URGENT! OPEN IMMEDIATELY!

  Something inside broke as he slid his finger into the top of the envelope, and pulled out the LETTER:

  Grant Jonathan Smith

  20 year old male, born April 5th, 1993

  You have been selected to serve in the United States military.

  Your task: repair the Middle East, stop terrorism, rebuild their economy.

  Estimated time period: unknown.

  Report date: Friday, May 17th, 2013.

  Training spot: Highland, Arizona.

  This is a great country. A free country, now it is time for you to fight for your freedom.

  The President of the United States

  The man who had promised change had been re-elected to a second term. The war was now branching off into smaller wars. The Draft was put back into effect; change required sacrifice-ultimate sacrifice.