08-17-2018, 08:14 PM
(This post was last modified: 08-17-2018, 08:20 PM by Jay Carpenter.)
The window shade slid on jagged edges, worn by age and millions of hands. The magazines were empty words. Their paper frayed and ripped around the edge. The lap tray had a ring on the plastic, remnant of another man's drink. The bouncing of Jay's knee yearned to run, or lift, or kick. Anything other than being pent up in a box. A hurling cage in the shape of a tube plowing through the air at ungodly speeds. At least the cargo planes shipping him around the southern hemisphere felt more open. Packed in with people, definitely, but there was airspace overhead, cold flows on his face. Always something to talk about. This was torture.
An anchor gripped his hand. The sudden weight may as well have been a bird landing on his finger, but it was crushing. Like a palm upon his soul willing it to ease. The sudden absence of movement was profound, he realized, and looked to her.
She was focused upon the pages in her lap. The steady graze of her thumb passing rhythmic like waves. His shoulders sank a little as his own fingers wrapped around hers, trying to catch a glimpse of what filled the pages occupying her attention when the phone rang.
Natalie's mom. He didn't have to overhear to sense the tension. Guilt dripped from Natalie like dual obligations attempted to tear her in half. She was needed somewhere. Missed by someone worried about her welfare. Was it undue worry? Or was there justification. Jay turned off his own wallet, blocked from everyone except Cayli, like the world was too distracting to remain connected to it. He knew his own limits, and he had to focus singularly on Cayli. Otherwise, who knows what would happen.
He didn't ask when Natalie disconnected what the call was about. He already knew. No point dragging her through the mud of regret any more than she already endured. He didn't stay silent, though. "I should probably have to told my family we were coming."
He searched her expression in case the comment elicited some sort of reaction, he was ready to flash a dark smirk. Dual errors in judgement. The despondent banded together, but at least he had some insight into her mood.
By the halfway point, probably somewhere over Indiana, a different kind of stillness settled. An empty plastic bottle rolled lazily between the fingers of his free hand, absently turning it over. Another one laid on the floor at his feet. But other than the slow motion, Jay was absolutely still. Fully awake. Eyes fixed on the seat back in front of him.
Though to be more accurate, they were fixed upon the cube of threads being constructed. They were invisible to any but him and Jensen, since the weave did nothing except grow more complicated. It turned and twisted like a Rubik's cube, a self-constructed puzzle that grew more complex even as he solved it in his mind. The exercise was distracting, or soothing in a way without being disruptive like the previous fidgeting. Other than the never-ending stare and intensity of concentration, the only other hint of the activity came from the barest narrowing of eyes, the purse of lips, the racing of a calculation being solved in his head. Rubik's cubes were all math. Specifically, it was math theory, but Jay was never interested enough in the process to study it in depth. Solving a Rubik's cube in front of the cheerleading squad counting down the time, now that was a worthwhile investment of effort. Shoving that same Rubik's cube into his pack filled the time during his early days in the marines. Being a soldier was boring more often than it was exciting. Everyone had their own methods to deal with stagnation. Jay was no exception.
The threads flipped or rotated. Colors spun in slices, then twisted in columns. The innermost portions of the cube were continuously buried by new ones, something he was doing to himself, but mostly for the challenge of solving it rather than an unique strategy from the start. But the idea was the same as the standard Rubik's cube. Memorize the pieces, assign the plots different values and sub-values, and monitor the cycles each passes through.
Jay didn't even know if this knot of threads and power could be solved, but it passed the time to landing in Des Moines.
More importantly, it kept him from losing his mind until then.
An anchor gripped his hand. The sudden weight may as well have been a bird landing on his finger, but it was crushing. Like a palm upon his soul willing it to ease. The sudden absence of movement was profound, he realized, and looked to her.
She was focused upon the pages in her lap. The steady graze of her thumb passing rhythmic like waves. His shoulders sank a little as his own fingers wrapped around hers, trying to catch a glimpse of what filled the pages occupying her attention when the phone rang.
Natalie's mom. He didn't have to overhear to sense the tension. Guilt dripped from Natalie like dual obligations attempted to tear her in half. She was needed somewhere. Missed by someone worried about her welfare. Was it undue worry? Or was there justification. Jay turned off his own wallet, blocked from everyone except Cayli, like the world was too distracting to remain connected to it. He knew his own limits, and he had to focus singularly on Cayli. Otherwise, who knows what would happen.
He didn't ask when Natalie disconnected what the call was about. He already knew. No point dragging her through the mud of regret any more than she already endured. He didn't stay silent, though. "I should probably have to told my family we were coming."
He searched her expression in case the comment elicited some sort of reaction, he was ready to flash a dark smirk. Dual errors in judgement. The despondent banded together, but at least he had some insight into her mood.
By the halfway point, probably somewhere over Indiana, a different kind of stillness settled. An empty plastic bottle rolled lazily between the fingers of his free hand, absently turning it over. Another one laid on the floor at his feet. But other than the slow motion, Jay was absolutely still. Fully awake. Eyes fixed on the seat back in front of him.
Though to be more accurate, they were fixed upon the cube of threads being constructed. They were invisible to any but him and Jensen, since the weave did nothing except grow more complicated. It turned and twisted like a Rubik's cube, a self-constructed puzzle that grew more complex even as he solved it in his mind. The exercise was distracting, or soothing in a way without being disruptive like the previous fidgeting. Other than the never-ending stare and intensity of concentration, the only other hint of the activity came from the barest narrowing of eyes, the purse of lips, the racing of a calculation being solved in his head. Rubik's cubes were all math. Specifically, it was math theory, but Jay was never interested enough in the process to study it in depth. Solving a Rubik's cube in front of the cheerleading squad counting down the time, now that was a worthwhile investment of effort. Shoving that same Rubik's cube into his pack filled the time during his early days in the marines. Being a soldier was boring more often than it was exciting. Everyone had their own methods to deal with stagnation. Jay was no exception.
The threads flipped or rotated. Colors spun in slices, then twisted in columns. The innermost portions of the cube were continuously buried by new ones, something he was doing to himself, but mostly for the challenge of solving it rather than an unique strategy from the start. But the idea was the same as the standard Rubik's cube. Memorize the pieces, assign the plots different values and sub-values, and monitor the cycles each passes through.
Jay didn't even know if this knot of threads and power could be solved, but it passed the time to landing in Des Moines.
More importantly, it kept him from losing his mind until then.
Only darkness shows you the light.