Forest Through the Trees

Chapter 2 (Jamie)

I was in a beautiful deep sleep, one that was very much deserved. The kind that you can only get after major physical exertion. I had come home from soccer practice and passed right out, I probably would have been out for the night if my phone hadn’t gone off to “I like big butts”, which is what my best friend Alex had set for his ringtone.

I roll over and looked at the clock before answering.

It's 6:28 pm. I have already slept for about an hour, but it feels more like 5 minutes.

I didn’t bother clearing my throat. I let my voice rasp like a chain smoker, intending to make it clear he was disturbing me from my rest.

“The world had better be ending, because you are waking me up from a nap.” My voice did sound gruff like it always does when you’re groggy. I really have no idea what he could possibly want. I was with him earlier today and told him I was going to soccer, and that I wouldn’t be partying with him tonight.

“Where the hell are you?” the voice that comes through the phone doesn’t belong to Alex at all, it is a girl’s voice, and she sounds pissed. In my still dazed mind, it takes a moment to register who the voice belongs to.

“Scar, is that you?”

Scarlet is my girlfriend. We have been dating on and off since seventh grade. Scar is one of those people that you don’t argue with, not that I don’t try, but when you piss her off, it is best to just duck and cover. Unfortunately for me, I have done something to piss her off. Luckily, she is all the way in London, England, and won’t be getting in till Sunday, which is ample time for me to figure out how to amend whatever travesty I have committed now.

“Obviously, it’s me, genius! Are you forgetting something? Or rather, someone?”

I take a moment to think but nothing comes to mind. I had better reply with something though. She is already upset, and not answering would make her even madder. I could say no, but she is obviously hinting at something. Or I can admit that I don’t have a clue what she is talking about. Either way, I predict more yelling in the near future.

Some guys hate being brought down by their women. But I really try not to look at it that way. Besides, by now I am so used to it, it’s like second nature. And I‘ll admit, sometimes she is hot when she gets all worked up. The fiery redhead thing is something no mortal man can resist, but other times it‘s just annoying. Kind of like how a joke becomes less and less funny after hearing it a 100 times. Like right now, I’m far too tired to deal with this, and my brain can’t weigh the options fast enough.

So, I go with the third option, being sweet, and laying it on thick.

“Umm... I Love You?” It seems like the safest reply.

“I’m at the airport asshole! You were supposed to pick me up, Remember?”

I quickly check the date on my phone, and to my horror, it says Sunday the 3rd of September.

I shoot up. Now fully awake, grabbing for my pants and scrambling around in search of my keys. A task that is always difficult because I’m always leaving them places I would never expect them to be.

“Holy f**k, I am so sorry. I will be there as soon as I can.”

A vision of her just standing there in the terminal, tapping her foot, waiting for me, passes through my mind. Her face as red as her hair, and her cheeks all puffed up like an angry squirrel, which only happens when she is extremely pissed. I am so dead, I can picture her whipping something at my head, maybe a shoe, or if I’m really unlucky, her ginormous suitcase.

“Don’t bother, I called Alex. Hence, why I am calling from his phone, you moron.”

Alex. My buddy and current savior. As he is probably the only reason I will be alive to see the sunrise tomorrow.

We first met in grade nine and he has been like my shadow ever since. He is constantly looking out for me and would do anything for me. But if I am also being 100% honest, Alex is a bit of an asshole. Not to me, of course, but to anyone outside our group of friends. Once, last year, he took a kid's chocolate milk and poured it over his head. Claiming that he gave him a dirty look or something like that.

I am not a bully and I don’t stand for that crap either. I told him to stop being such a d**k or to get out, and I swear he was thinking about taking a swing at me. Luckily for us both, he didn’t. Even so, I know that he would never intentionally hurt me, and I’m pretty sure that his problem can be boiled down to anger issues. He hasn't had it easy and I know that. Not that I would ever say that to his face though. I don’t have a death wish.

I stop searching for my keys and sit back down on the bed. I have royally f****d the dog on this one, and if I know Scar, she is going to be pissed at me for days. This means she won’t talk to me, and she will pretty much just act like a b***h and give me the cold shoulder. I will, however, get her flowers or something to speed up the process, and she will eventually come around. That’s just how we are.

I f**k up. I apologize. She forgives me. Rinse and repeat.

“I’m so sorry, I totally lost track of what day it was. Can I come by your house later to see you?”

“No, don’t bother. I have unpacking to do, I’m really tired, and to be honest, I don‘t really want to see you right now. You can see me tomorrow at school… That is IF you can remember to show up for that. Now go back to your precious nap.”

“Scar, Babe, I’m sorry. I…”

The phone beeps signaling that she hung up. Not that surprising, she has always been dramatic. But she needs space, and that would give me time to think of how to butter her up enough to get me back into her good graces. I will figure it out, and she always does come around.

Eventually.

At this point, I am too worked up to go back to sleep, which is good because right then my mom knocks on the door. I am not a momma's boy but we have always been close, closer than my dad and I are. Explaining my family to someone who doesn’t know them is hard. I guess you could say that we are abnormally functional. I have seen how dysfunctional some families can be, like some of my friends' families are, especially Alex’s, and I wouldn’t trade mine for the world.

“You’re awake? Good! Lizzie and I are going to the park with the dog. Do you want to come?”

She asks like she is expecting me to say no, and usually, I would. However, I really could use some air to clear my head, and the park sounds like it would be better than just sitting here and dwelling. If I think about it too much, I would probably end up going over to Scars place, and that isn’t what she wants or needs right now, and it is probably safest if I give her some space. Safest for me anyway. Besides, I always do my best thinking when outdoors. Walking or running, any activity always makes things seem clearer.

“Yeah sure, I’ll come.”

“Really? Alright then.” she turns to leave but before she does, she stops. There is a crease in her brow like she is concerned about something, and invisible to the unknowing eye, a smirk on the corner of her bottom lip. “Oh, and I almost forgot. There was a message from Scarlet on the answering machine when we got in from soccer. She sounded… upset.” She couldn’t hide the smile any longer and I caught just a glimpse of a laugh as she walks out of my room.

My mother has never really liked Scarlet. She is nice enough to her. I don’t think that she could be rude to anyone, but she says that she and I don’t fit together, and is constantly hinting that I should “play the field”. She claims that I am young and need to “explore my options”. It isn’t like I’m planning to propose or something, especially not in high school. But for now, I’m not unhappy, and it is just easier to be with her than to fight with her.

I cringe internally. That really sounded bad.

I love Scar, I think. Or at least I like her enough to stay with her. More stuff I don't want to think about and so I drop that train of thought as I head out the door.

*** *** ***

It is a short walk to the park, not even 20 min. It is busy today, with lots of people running around everywhere, as it should be, on the last weekend before school starts again. I see lots of people that I know, some of them wave, some of them come up to say hi, and others avoid my eyes by pretending that they don’t notice me.

My mom and Lizzie walk arm in arm, as they always do, and I walk our spastic golden retriever named Bill. Yes, it’s a lame name for a dog, but he came with it from a family that didn’t want him anymore. Currently, he is trying his best to pull my arm off, lunging to chase a squirrel or a stray ball, and I sarcastically wonder why anyone wouldn’t want this hell hound. He is a good-looking dog, I guess, but he is dumber than a stump and comes with more problems than he is worth.

I pull Bill back trying to catch up. Lizzie, my younger sister by three years, is starting grade 9 tomorrow. The best way to describe her is… weird. We look alike in appearance, both have the same black hair and dark eyes, but while my skin is a tan olive, hers remains pale and pasty. However, our personalities are completely opposite. She spends her days in her room on the internet, writing and watching anime. She has her friends, but she doesn’t get out much. However, to call her shy would be a mistake. Like me, she is comfortable talking with just about anyone, but the things that come out of her mouth shock and alienate people, so most never really get to know her.

If that's not enough, the way she dresses makes the few people who would come up and talk to her think twice about wanting to be seen with her. She goes from Goth to Prep to Candy Striper, all in the same ensemble. Now, I am a guy, and I can fully admit to knowing nothing about women's fashion, but I know when something looks like it belongs in a Tim Burton film, and ALL of my sisters' outfits look like that.

But I do love her. She is family after all. Even though most of the time we don’t really get along, I respect her. She does what she does, and she doesn’t give a s**t about what anyone thinks. And despite what you would think, I don’t have to look after her at all really. People just don’t pick on her. I don’t know if that is because they are scared of her or not, but she can hold her own and that is at least one load off my mind.

We head over to the pavilion by the docks. There is a little stand where they sell food. Hot dogs, hamburgers, fries, ice cream, you name it. They head over to it and I walk the other way along the dock. It is a rather large one that is shaped like a T over the water, big enough for the small 200-passenger tour ship to dock. It’s one of the things our town is known for as it offers day cruises around the surrounding islands. But the ship is gone at the moment. As soon as September hits, most cottagers enjoy the last weekend of the summer before heading home, and I imagine it’s off on one of its final trips of the season.

Its absence leaves a clear view of the open water and the setting sun. It is so beautiful. The day was hot and the sun is a brilliant red. Golden clouds stretch to the edge of the water that sparkles as the small waves move across and I am momentarily lost in the beauty. Walking slowly down to the edge of the dock, everything around me feels far away and a refreshing calm comes over me.

I get just one deep, relaxing breath in before my peace is torn away. My arm is given a sudden jerk, so hard and sudden that it throws me off balance and I fall to my hands and knees as Bill’s leash rips from my grip.

I look up, and the first thing I see is a flock of seagulls perched on the far-right end of the dock. The second thing I see is a teenage couple walking and talking, heading down towards the benches at the far end. The tall boy has two ice-cream cones, one in each hand, and a short blond girl is taking pictures of what I assume is the sunset. The third thing I see is my dumb-ass dog, barreling full speed down the dock in hot pursuit of the seagulls.

Everything happens so quickly. The couple turns to the left, just before the opening of the T. The seagulls catch wind of the dog coming full force towards them and they take flight, heading left as well. Bill follows suit, putting him in the couple's direct path.

Oh god. I can see what is about to happen, but only have enough time to shout“HEY! LOOK OUT!”

Before my f*****g dog barrels full tilt right into them.