The Unwanted Winter - Volume One of the Saga of the Twelves (17 page)

Again?!?

Friday, November
19
^th
,
6:39 pm…

Louis Willigan sat on the
edge of his bed in a rare, unusual funk of despondency. He had one
leg curled underneath his butt, the other stretched out, this foot
flat upon the carpeted floor of his room. He was silently staring
into his lap. His straight and coarse, brown hair covered the broad
features of his face. His plump cheeks and the extra roll of skin
forming beneath his chin when he looked down were unmoving.
Absently, he watched with hazel eyes as he picked, using the nail
of the index finger on his left hand, at a small deformation in the
weave of his jeans. He’d long since removed his shoes, put them
away in the shoe carrier hanging from the inside of his closet
door. He’d changed the shirt he had worn to school as well. It was
dirty. In its place he’d opted for a baggy, “knock-around” t-shirt
he could wear to bed later, after dinner and after his nightly
shower.

He wasn’t a fat child per
se, but was definitely flirting with obesity. It could be said he
was big-boned - the term normally used when adults didn’t want to
injure a child’s self-esteem. But, with Louis, there was a degree
of truth to it. He was tall for an eleven-year-old, nearly four
feet ten inches, possessing a broad set of shoulders and hips. His
thighs, though large for his age, weren’t blubbery or loose. They
were somewhat firm actually and didn’t jiggle when he walked,
belying mounds of fat underneath his pants. Most of what made him
appear overweight was in his face and in the roundness of his
belly. Usually, he had a jovial look about him. So, when coupled
with that extra roll of fat about his waist, this did seem add to
the impression he was chunky.

Normally a happy-go-lucky
youth, he was full of energy and an infectious exuberance for life,
Louis was the lifeblood behind any joke, the source of any
laughter, the life of the party. Even at this tender age, he felt
life should be lived and enjoyed with every waking hour. He was a
fountain of pranks, funny quirks and laughable ways of putting
things to words. It was these traits that made his current mood
bizarre to anyone who knew him well.

Louis was depressed. This,
most definitely, had to be one of the few times in his life, he
felt thus.

Being very different from
most kids his age and having an alternate perspective to the world
around him, the wellspring of his dissolution wasn’t typical to
this child growing up in the vast sprawl of Los Angeles. It wasn’t
due to his behavior and a consequent punishment for being
disrespectful or unruly. It wasn’t because one of his classmates
had made fun of him or teased him about his so-called “fatness”. He
wasn’t the object of some mean childhood hazing or anything of that
sort. It wasn’t the result of a youthful rejection to some
misbegotten puppy love either. There was no boyhood crush dashed,
because the object of his affection didn’t feel the same. It was
nothing like any of that.

Simply, Louis wanted his
family to be together more often than they’d been able since his
father’s promotion. This new job put him in charge of larger
organization, spreading across the entire western portion of the
Unites States. It also demanded he travel on a much more frequent
basis than he had in years’ past. Sometimes he was gone for weeks
on end. It was something Louis had yet grown accustomed.

His mother’s growing
happiness over their much improved financial situation did, in
fact, make him smile on occasion. The added monies had eased
enough, so she could do some of the things she’d always wished to
do in the past, but had held off in lieu of saving for Louis’s
college and investing for their retirement. Seeing his mother,
begin her study of Interior Design and its ever-growing application
about their home, fascinated him. It sparked his imagination as he
witnessed the transformation of his mother. He found himself
wondering how doing something as mundane as studying could make a
person so happy, maybe even complete. This, of course, had led to
many more smiles and hugs from her, which Louis absolutely
loved
and wouldn’t trade
for anything else in the world. Except for the chance to spend a
little more time with his father, as they had before.

And yet, all of this
really wasn’t the crux of the issue clouding his otherwise bright
and cheerful mind. He was sitting there, on his twin bed, fingering
his jeans, uncaring of any of his toys or books littering the many
shelves and cases about his room, because of what he’d heard. He
had overheard his parents talking a few minutes ago. His mother
perturbed. His father, to him, was defensive, then apologetic, as
he informed his wife he was going to have to leave for New Orleans
later on that night and would be out of town until Thanksgiving
Day.

Louis realized he wasn’t
going to have his father on the sidelines during his soccer game
tomorrow afternoon
and
they were probably going to cancel the family barbeque on
Sunday. His mother had yet to learn how to use the new high-tech
grill his father had just bought.
So,
great! Now that too was out of the question.
Why did everything have to always be so complicated? Why
couldn’t things just
be
, devoid of difficulty, without mitigating
circumstances?

His weekend was all
jacked-up now. The only good thing he could think of at the moment
was he had a shortened school week ahead of him. But, what good
would that be if his father was gone the entire time? He almost
wished there was going to be no Thanksgiving this year. It would’ve
been better if he was in school for the entire week like usual,
because that way he’d be busy and wouldn’t have to think about all
the time lost with his father. He wouldn’t have to worry about
anything other than going to school and maintaining his usual
schedule. He wouldn’t have to watch as his mother prepared for the
holiday. His favorite, because of all the food, all of the desserts
- things he loved most in life. It wouldn’t be the same without his
father there to exclaim and carry-on over all their plans and their
progress. It was something he’d always looked forward to, and
now…

What a jip!

He banged his other hand,
balled in a fist, into the soft fluffiness of his comforter in
anger. He felt the beginning of a sob develop in his throat, but
tried with all of his will to internalize his frustration, not
wanting his parents to overhear. He didn’t want them to know he’d
eavesdropped on their conversation, that he already knew what topic
they were going to approach him with during dinner.

He stood, some of the
pudginess of his body flattening out as he did so. He glanced about
his room, trying to figure out what he could do in order to
distract him, while he waited around for his mother to finish
dinner. His toys didn’t really raise any interest for him nor did
any of his books. Even his computer didn’t make a good choice. His
brain was overloaded enough already without the additional
onslaught of outside stimuli. He’d probably go bonkers if he
tried.

He sighed heavily. Then
looked at the door leading to the bathroom he would share, if
anyone was staying in the guest room. An idea sprouted in his
brain. Finally, one that made him feel good. He walked over to his
chest of drawers and stooped to open the lowest one, extracting a
pair of comfortable sweatpants. He opened an upper one next, much
narrower drawer, grabbing onto a pair of tube socks and a clean
pair of boxer shorts. A smile spread across his face.

For the first time, Louis,
without being prompted or told outright, was going to take a nice,
long and hot shower. This was one such occasion that called for
drastic measures, because he, without a doubt, had to relieve some
of the troubles in his young life. He was purposefully going to be
very un-Louis-like for the remainder of the evening.

He closed and locked both
doors to the bathroom, turned on the hot water and let the steam
fill the small space. He began to strip, already feeling
better.
I’m going to wash away all these
bad thoughts. Down the drain, down the drain they’ll go…

It was twenty minutes
later when Louis emerged from the bathroom, his face flushed. His
skin was so clean it was pink. Though the thoughts of his father’s
soon-to-be absence were still bothering him, they didn’t seem to
carry the same weight upon his shoulders as they had before. Now,
he could cope with them. He would make do. He would be a good boy,
make things smooth for his mother. He would celebrate Thanksgiving
with even greater fervor than usual. His father would be home by
then! All would be well.

“
Leeda, shut
up!”

It was his father,
shouting at his dog from the backdoor, downstairs.

Louis moved to the window
of his room, looking out onto the terraced backyard of his parents’
home, searching for his pet. He could hear her barking now, as
clear as a bell, except, she was doing so fiercely. Something she
only did when she felt their family was threatened.

“
What’s wrong with her?”
asked his mother from below.

“
Hell if I know!” replied
his father, annoyed.

Louis saw her. She was on
the highest level of the yard, the largest, barking ferociously at
something farther up the hill, shrouded in darkness. She looked
like she was getting ready to pounce.

“
I better go get her
before Dad tried,” he said to himself. “He’ll spank her for sure…”
He bent in search of his slippers. “…I don’t want him to hit my
dog.”

“
God damn it, Leeda, don’t
make me come out there and get you!” bellowed his
father.

Oh crud, I better
hurry!

In the upper region of the
yard, Leeda continued to bark.

~~~~~~~~<<<<<<{ ☼
}>>>>>>~~~~~~~~

Unexpected

Saturday, November 20th,
10:42am…

“
Come on, Elena, you’re
taking forever!” exclaimed Mikalah. She was waiting outside the
backdoor, upon the verge of her grandmother’s backyard. It was much
cooler than a usual mid-morning in Los Angeles, even though this
was the latter half of November and winter was just around the
corner. This southern California city didn’t experience
temperatures in the middle forties this early in the afternoon all
that often.

So, Mikalah had been
instructed to put on her light blue sweats and matching sweatshirt
along with her longer, thicker cotton socks that stretched all the
way up and over her small calves. On her feet were her favorite,
multi-colored Nike’s that sparkled in the bright light of the sun.
She had her straight, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, out of
her face. A small black beanie atop her head, placed just over the
tips of her ears, kept them warm. Over her hands, she’d donned a
matching pair of black, cotton gloves. While, in each palm, she
held the barrels of two different toy machine-guns – one, an
ever-familiar AK-47, the other, an ever-stylish AR-15.

Her and her sister were
supposed to go hunting
enemies
this morning in her grandmother’s backyard,
except something was keeping Elena much longer than her typical
snail’s-pace. Since she was the punctual of the two, more aware of
time, delays of this nature went against her grain. Mikalah had
been forced to wait and wait and wait.

Now, she was thoroughly
irritated.

The wind blew cold over
the girl’s exposed face. She could already feel her cheeks chapping
from it. She shifted slightly to her right and balanced on her
tiptoes to look at her reflection in the glass of window showing
into her grandmother’s office. From her reflection, she could
barely make out the redness on her cheeks.
Man, it sure is cold today!
she
thought to herself, opting to step a few more feet into the yard,
into more of the weakened rays of the sun. She hoped the chill
would loosen its grip on her a bit, blinking in the bright glow of
the day. She set the “guns” against the back of the house, turned,
shielding her eyes with her hand, to gaze over the wide expanse of
the backyard. Even to an adult, it was huge.

At a third of an acre, it
was clearly the largest backyard for miles around and it was
perfect in Mikalah’s eyes. Everything about it, she loved. Its many
terraces, walkways, and patios weaving around and about trees and
plants and hedges were the perfect setting for a child’s
imagination to run wild.