the future – Page 4 – A Piece, of the Sky

Alli sat on the porch of the broken house again, in a wooden rocking chair, brought out from inside – made of wood almost as gray as that of the porch. It was now early afternoon. The brilliant, electric-blue sky had been replaced by a cloudy hue, the color a soft, eggshell white.

The drizzle drummed on the black, old shingles of the roof, twisted and turned out of their places. Thunder grumbled beyond her view. The trees looked black on the horizon. Lightning flashed – Alli blinked her eyes and it was gone. The rain wind wafted the fresh smell of wet earth across the land.

Æon stood in the middle of the field of yellow flowers, now looking off-white under the dishwater-colored sky. She wore clothes like what Alli wore when she was in high school, walking through this very same field, almost twenty years ago – a jean jacket over a green sweat shirt, faded jeans, trainers.

She stood in the middle of the field, the Sky Avatar, and let the lightning illuminate her face. Æon crossed through the field toward Alli, an angel in disguise, pushing her way through the tall grass and the raindrops, sweet and cool. She smiled and waved. No doubt, Aro had encouraged her to come here.

Alli watched her make her way up the ancient, rotting porch. Æon sat in the matching, rickety rocking chair Alli had placed out for her. They listened to the gentle whistle of the breeze, watched the thunderheads move in the distance, saw the setting sun break through the rainy gloom.

Æon rocked the chair, in a homey sort of way. Alli was still, “So, you’ve come to tell me to open my third eye, or something like that, right?”

Æon smiled again, and stopped rocking, “It’s finally time for you to become what you were always meant to be.”

The wooden blades of the fan chopped at the clunky summer air. Nealy and Alli sat in a booth. Alli could see the night outside the window: grocery flyers caught the breeze and got stuck on trash cans. She sat under the warm lamplight, in Nate’s Papaya Dogs.

They ate soft, flaky pancakes, dipped in syrup, the late-night breakfast special. “I love this place,” Nealy said, putting another bite in her mouth. She was wearing a fuchsia button-down shirt, with the collar open. A twine necklace, with a shark’s tooth on it, dangled from her neck. She wore a delicate, twisting silver ring on her right, index finger.

Nealy sipped her coffee, black. The rolls and waves of her orange hair lay on her forehead, damp with sweat. She took an Altoids tin out of the pocket of her chinos and rolled a cigarette with a sprinkle of tobacco. Alli watched her tap the first embers in the cerulean ashtray on the table.

“So, you didn’t go to Peary,” Alli asked and didn’t ask. It came out like a statement.

“No, I went surfing in California instead,” Nealy said. She took a drag on her cigarette, and puffed the smoke ceiling-ward, where the wisps were cut up by the fan. The waiter brought another plate of sausages and whisked Nealy’s half-eaten plate away.

“Why?” Alli wondered, “I thought you wanted to go.”

“I did,” Some ash fell from the butt of the cigarette, crumbling on the table, “But I realized that I wanted to stay with you more.”

Alli looked up from the checkered pattern, covered by some acrylic plastic, to protect against stains and spills.

“I realized I wanted to be with you,” Nealy folded her hand over Alli’s on the table. Her hand was fleshy and solid, wider than Alli’s, “We’re going to go to college together.”

Alli let the warmth of Nealy’s hand sink into hers, let it flow down, into her heart. The feeling buoyed her up. Her head felt like a helium balloon.

“I didn’t know you cared,” Alli whispered.

Nealy exhaled through her nose, the smoke billowing upward. “I always cared,” she exhorted, holding Alli’s hand.

They stared into one another’s eyes. Cars rolled down the street, speeding toward Downtown, past the two figures sitting in the café window.