A Portal to Leya (11 page)

Lance

COMMENTS

Heather
I’ll admit it now if you haven’t guessed, Lance. I have the biggest crush on
you! : ) If you want to kiss, I’m ready and waiting! I promise it won’t end
abruptly either. I pm’d you a pic of me and my dog, Tip.

@heather
cute, thx

Anonymous
love
that name, Tip.

POSITIVE
CHARGES

I can only think of her today. I am filled with
positive charges. I was remembering her bike, the day her dad bought her that cool
vintage bike at a tag sale for $25.00. He loved her so much. I can see why.
“What color, Leya?” and she said
teal
so he painted it teal.
He
would do anything for her.
I’ll admit. I was jealous. I wished I had a
father like that. Her bike
had a basket in the front. She always had a
couple books in there. I loved how Emily Dickinson was her favorite poet and
that she had her photograph taped inside her notebook. I thought her eyes
looked like yours. I never told you that. One day Neal grabbed her book and
started peeling off the picture. You yelled stop it and tried to get your book
back. That ass, he ignored her and kept doing it. Then she got really angry and
he stopped. “Why do you like that old lady anyway? She looks like a prude,” he
said to her. Then he threw the book down on the ground. It made a thud when it
hit the ground. I wanted to scream. My internal thermometer was ready to burst.
But I didn’t say anything. I’m Sir Lancelot the great wimp. I think Neal
couldn’t stand for her to like something more than him, even a dead poet. Neal
was always mad.

Here’s what I think:  Leya was drawn to the wrong
source, misdirected to his energy because it was the exact opposite of hers.
Opposites do attract when they are emitting at the same consistency. The
opposition is no longer considered when the degrees are of equal distribution. This
scares me.

Edward Leedskalnin said that both positive and
negative charges were of equal importance when it came to magnetic currents. Ed
disputed contemporary science and stated that “All matter consists of magnets
which can produce measurable phenomena and electricity.” Ed claimed to see
“beads of light” and he explained how these were the physical presence of
nature’s magnetism and life force otherwise known as Chi.

I’m trying to remain positive. I’ve been avoiding
Trudy. I got an A+ on my Steinbeck essay. McDermott wrote
Beautiful essay, Lance.
You are a gifted writer.
I really think the blog has helped me. I’ve never
been called gifted before by anyone! Dorrie writes poems and children’s books,
so I guess it’s genetic. But I’ve never really taken a shine to writing until
this blog.

Lance

COMMENTS

Heather
Congrat’s
on your essay!!! I’m not surprised in the least bit. Glad you liked my pic!
Btw: I once had a boyfriend who was a creep. He used to abuse me. One day my
best friend told me she wouldn’t be my friend anymore if I kept this guy. So, I
decided to dump him. I couldn’t see how bad he was until I was away from him!!!

Susanne
Lance,
you made me cry. That memory was so vivid. I felt like Leya was back. I loved
her bike. Neal was so cruel to Leya. I remember, too, when he would make fun of
her poetry. He didn’t like me because I was a threat like you. I love your
blog, but it is painful. Why haven’t you called me? Please don’t be angry about
911. I care about you!

GENETICS
AND TRANSMISSION OF THOUGHTS

am

I’ve
been having real vivid memories lately. Here is my sledding memory:

It’s
February. We are sledding on the Rockledge Country Club hill. Francis is home
and we ride down the hill together on your toboggan. Leya’s legs and arms are
wrapped around me. I am embarrassed because your boot is between my legs and
pressing in that area and making me feel (ok one more time) aroused. It was the
first time that happened. The wind chill makes it ten below. We stay for two
and one half hours. When we get home, my toes and fingers ache as they thaw. I
pull my socks and put them up against the radiator. I notice they are bright
red. It hurts so bad I want to cry. But instead I moan and Francis gives me
that cut it out look. He makes hot chocolate on the stove. It’s Leya’s idea to
put Marshmallow Fluff in our cocoa. Francis seems quiet. Leya keeps giggling
and elbowing Francis, and he grins. I think she likes him the way I like her. I
don’t realize it until later on. Francis leaves for Afghanistan the next day. I
cry all the time because I miss him so much. I don’t tell anyone how much. Leya
doesn’t come around for at least three months. I missed her. But at least she
was alive.

pm

A
year later…it’s foggy with no snow. It is a white day, white like a canvas, so
white I have to squint, and I can feel an odd sort of moisture in the air.
Dorrie and I walked to the bookstore. We are here now. I’m blogging. It’s been
a long time since we’ve done that, Dorrie and I going for a walk. I have to
admit, it felt nice. It was peaceful. She didn’t ask me any annoying questions.
There were no expectations. When I passed St. Benedict’s Cemetery, I didn’t think
of Leya. Up until this point, whenever I passed the cemetery, I felt compelled
to go inside, as if I could get closer to her somehow. I don’t want to think
her waves are dissipating. I can’t live without her. I really can’t. But, right
now, I feel a sense of peace at the bookstore. I like it because everyone is
doing the same thing—reading, writing, or talking in hushed tones. We all have
a single purpose in mind. Our waves are on level, balanced. I haven’t felt this
calm in a long time. I feel connected. Our brains are emitting similar energy
levels, but I don’t have to interact with anyone. It’s not that I dislike
people; I just don’t want to be interrupted with small talk.

Yet, I have to admit, I do feel different in a
possibly good way, and even that worries me. Honestly, I worry that Leya is fading
and it makes me feel out of sorts. Also, before we left for the bookstore,
Dorrie asked me what I thought about Neal going to prison. If he did it, fine,
I told her. Then she asked if I thought he did it. I looked over at her. Our
eyes met. She thinks he’s guilty. I know she does. She didn’t have to say a
word. I sensed it. Dorrie and I are so connected that way. The closer you are,
genetically, the more powerful the waves. This is what I mean by ingesting
waves. You become part of the other. Energies intermix and thoughts words and
feelings are transmitted via satellite via our brains. Brain waves assimilate
into the environment and mix with other satellite waves and become charged like
a computer. Brains, then, have an IP address just like a computer.

Ed Leedskanlin planetary grid hypothesis purported
that the earth is covered by an invisible web of energy which is concentrated
points of telluric powers. When these points converge they create unusual
phenomenal. Ed claimed to have discovered the secret to creating anti-gravity.
Neighbors reported Edward singing to his stones with his hands laid on them as
if he were attempting to make them lighter. Others reported stones levitating
above the coral structure like hydrogen balloons. Edward was intuitive. He only
completed 4
^th
grade, but most of his knowledge came from reading and
his sixth sense. So why are my senses so fickle? Why don’t I know for sure if
Neal is innocent or guilty? Maybe it’s just easier to believe he is the one.
There seems to be a firewall I can’t bypass.

Lance

COMMENTS

Heather
y
es,
I am like that too but with my Dad. He knows what I’m going to say before I say
it! I hope I see you in school on Monday!

THE
RAPIST

Benny boy is interesting. I’m sort of glad that he
is around so much. Tonight, he came after dinner. We were eating apple pie
a-la-mode, heated. He told us some news, the topic de jeur (he referred to
it)—Neal Lourdes. Neal has history of anger problems, Ben told us. I could have
told him that. Police were called to the Lourdes home on several occasions. I
have anger problems too (sometimes), but I have no intention of murdering
anyone. Lots of people have anger issues, especially teenagers. We are more
sensitive to energy waves and the increase in hormone levels. Contrary to what
adults like to say about us, teenagers are not likely to injure or bully
others, despite angry outbursts. Murder is rare. Sure, we may break a window or
put a fist through a door, but murder? Not likely to happen.

Second top story: I
walked home with Trudy today. She said she needed me. I wasn’t sure why. She
was distraught and breathless. I knew something was up. I couldn’t believe what
she told me:

“You know there’s a criminal in our
town. He almost got me but I ran away.”

“
What?”
I was
flabbergasted. We were drinking our cups of wine, sitting on a dry part of the
porch swing. I was halfway through the cup when she told me. I wasn’t sure I
was hearing her right.

“A rapist in town—you
must have heard. A tall thin man like seven feet tall with a really deep voice
attacked a jogger last week. He pulled her into the bushes and raped her. Well,
he's still on the loose. And I was walking home from the center at about 11 p.m.,
and this guy that fits that description grabbed me.”

“Did he rape you?”

“NO! I said I got away. I punched him in the crotch
and ran. But it scared the shit out of me. I ran so fast I couldn’t breathe. He
chased me too.”

“How far did he chase you?”

“I think pretty far. At least to the top of my
street…and the worst part is he has my backpack.”

“At least he didn’t rape you or kill you.” I
couldn’t help but think about Leya not being so lucky.

No, but he has my ID with my address. I basically
live alone here. I mean Grandpa is always passed out. Lance, I’m really scared.
I don’t know what I should do.”

“
Trudy.
I think you should go to the police. You need to report it.”

I was thinking maybe she’d report the other too. I
felt mature. It was a weird feeling.
I just stared at her and felt like
I could do something for her. She was scared. Trudy Markus was actually afraid.
And she was crying. It was a Sir Lancelot moment. I’ve only had a few of these
in my life time. I put my arm around her to comfort her and then she really let
it out. Her whole body was shaking. I’m not really good with these matters, so
I just kept patting her back the way I remember Dorrie did for me when I was
small. She just kept crying like a baby saying
I’m so scared. I’m so scared.
I told her it would be okay and I would go with her to the police. Her back
was heaving and she felt so hot, so human. Then I thought about Manny. I asked
her if he would come around to stay with her for a bit. That’s when she
admitted he was back in prison for drugs for at least ten years. I was
euphoric.

I felt free, finally. I felt like I could do the
right thing now and not feel like a criminal. I knew that Trudy would confess
about Neal now that she was so vulnerable. It’s the way things work. I refilled
our cups. I told her to drink some more so that she would feel better. She
wiped her eyes. There were black smudges all over her face. I started laughing
this time. I couldn’t help it. She looked like a raccoon. Then when I told her
she ran inside. A few minutes later, she came out of the house hunched over,
laughing so hard she said she pee’d her pants. We finished our wine; we were
quiet, but it wasn’t awkward. Then I don’t even know how it happened but she
said she wanted to kiss me.

We
kissed and it was a long and sensual. Our mouths were pressed so hard. It felt
like I was inside another person I can’t describe it. I tasted her cherry
cigarettes and wine and saliva. It didn’t taste as good as you Leya. But still
my heart raced so hard I thought it would come out of my chest. I thought for
sure I would have a heart attack. This time I wanted Trudy. I wanted her more
than the wine. Not to be gross, but I wanted crush my body into hers so that we
were like one whole piece. I felt like I might burst. I think you were with me,
Leya. I felt you. And right when we were both so heavy into it, she stopped
kissing me. And said she had to go inside.
“
I really like you, Lance
Price. I really do.” she said to me. I was breathless, still gasping for air. I
sat there for a few minutes, waiting. Then, when she didn’t return, I went
home.

I
took a shower and then just at on the edge of my bed. I didn’t look for you, Leya.
I don’t know why. I took a few Benadryl, hoping to pass out. I did.

Lance

COMMENTS

2cents
man
sorry to hear

Susanne
I’m glad she stopped. Sounds like she respects you, Lance and that maybe she’s
turning over a new leaf…scary about that rapist! I wonder if he is a suspect in
Leya’s murder.

Heather
I’m glad too : )

THE
FACADE

Ben said they caught the rapist last night. He
wasn’t Leya’s murderer. Women joggers gathered at the same route and time and
jogged this morning in support of the victim and to celebrate his capture. Ben
said the woman was attacked right in someone’s yard. He jumped out of the bushes
and grabbed her from behind. She never expected it. Was it Neal? Did he trick Leya?
Did she suspect anything?  I know this much, that once she knew, she was killed
because maybe she fought to get away. But he was too strong and the more she
struggled, I bet, the tighter he pressed his weight on her. He choked her to
death. Leya died of asphyxiation. She would never wear her cool hippie costume.
She missed the dance, and she’d never dance again or eat candy corn and black
jelly beans. She missed Thomas and Julia making out on the dance floor. She missed
Dorian dressed in his Count Dracula costume flirting with McDermott who came as
Joan De Arc. She missed the haunted School yard tour led by Rell disguised as
the Grim Reaper who wore a black cloak and spoke in low tones, describing
staged scenes like the tricycle tipped on its side, one wheel spinning, a piece
of dress smeared with blood—“Poor Melissa never made it home
”—
Rell’s
eerie tone narrated while McDermott’s voice (disguised as mother) bellowed in
the distance—Melissa!
Leya was Melissa, abducted, murdered, except it
was real and the bike wasn’t a tricycle but a teal painted vintage bike with a
basket tipped on its side and one wheel still spinning and her poor broken body
a few feet away sullied, half-naked.