Chapter 27


    Jimothy Whyte


    April from here to the end


    After a dinner of hamburgers and chips, Jimothy retired to his room. He spent some time reviewing his sketches and drafts for a special set of paintings. Five of them, one for each of his friends. It was his secret plan to distribute these for his birthday. Kate seemed to think that they would all be together then. Jimothy hoped this was true.


    The paintings existed in varying stages of completion. For Kate and Eric, he already had rough drafts hastily slapped onto canvas just to get a grasp on space, arrangement, and color scheme. The rest were still sketches. Heidi puzzled him, so hers was the most incomplete. For her he had only disconnected images: a gun, a chess piece (bishop), wind chimes, computers, and a weird black lizard of some kind. Heidi was very straightforward, and definitely on the dark/muted end of the color scale, opposite from Kate, so these would be reflected in her painting, whatever it ended up being. He should talk to Heidi more. Her place in his brain was dark and empty, and he needed to fill it up with stuff—the stuff she liked and didn’t like, the stuff she cared about, the stuff that made her sad or angry, the stuff that made her laugh, and the hard stuff like how she would paint a picture of the world, or of God, and how she would paint herself if it were her doing it instead of him.


    These were his main projects now that he no longer intended to finish  Black .  Black  was in the back of Mike’s car. He hadn’t let Mike take a picture of it. Jimothy thought they should throw it into the sea. Mike had said okay, they could go to the beach tomorrow.


    There was another thing he had sketched just this afternoon. Another strange creature, one which wore street clothes but looked like an orange lizard alien with spikes around its eyes. Jimothy thought it was kind-of funny, like maybe something from one of Isaac’s goofy sci-fi movies. Jimothy imagined it laughing a lot, but he didn’t know why. Something stirred in his memory when he looked at the sketch, but he could never quite place it. One thing was certain: although he had only sketched this creature in pencil, it was supposed to be orange.


    Jimothy’s computer beeped. He set down his sketchbook and passed by the window to investigate. His room was getting dark; the declining sun no longer shone into his room. The clouds in the sky outside were touched with gold along their edges. Jimothy liked having a room that gave him a view of the sky, even if it meant having to go up stairs multiple times per day.


    He sat at his desk and looked out the window for a while.


    The slowly drifting clouds made a full pass along his field of vision, becoming more golden all the time.


    Jimothy at length remembered the message and turned his attention to his computer.


    Eric had said only “yo.” Jimothy smiled and returned the greeting.


    EW: yo


    JW: yo


    EW: hows things man


    JW: They are ok


    JW: We took Hazel to the park today


    EW: cool i took leah to the park this weekend


    EW: she ran straight into a tree


    EW: like a direct fucking hit


    JW: Is she okay?


    EW: yeah dude shes fine


    EW: i told her dragonflies dont cry


    EW: which i think is scientifically accurate


    EW: so it was an all-around educational experience for her


    JW: Nice!


    EW: did you know heidi is coming to chicago later today


    JW: Yeah I heard. That’s pretty cool!


    JW: Oh wait something interesting did happen today


    EW: interesting


    JW: Yeah


    EW: how interesting


    JW: Well you know Elizabeth’s sister


    EW: yeah aj


    JW: She found one of my paintings at her church


    EW: woah


    JW: And it’s one that I’m pretty sure I haven’t done yet


    EW: god dammit


    JW: What’s wrong


    EW: some strange shit is afoot jimothy


    EW: something is going on, and i dont know what it is


    JW: I know what you mean


    JW: How are things going with Elizabeth?


    EW: how do you mean


    EW: did we have a fight i didnt know about


    EW: if we did you better let me know cause im falling behind on my monthly quota of pissing off elizabeth eddison


    JW: The month just started, though


    EW: yeah and the scores actually in her favor since shes working some sequin related debasement on the jacket i left at her house


    JW: I mean, you like her right?


    EW: jim i swear to god you better use your words and explain exactly what you mean


    EW: i will not condone misunderstandings of this nature brought about by the inherent inaccuracy of textual communication


    JW: I mean, I know you haven’t said anything but I thought maybe   you liked Elizabeth in a way that’s more than just friendship


    EW: and why do you think this?


    JW: Well you always tease her and the two of you get into silly fights all the time. But when we went to her house you were really nice to her and you guys talked and laughed together a lot


    EW: we all did


    EW: nevermind forget that dodge


    EW: a tactic that weak will not derail the jim train


    EW: actually i shouldnt have tried to avoid answering in the first place


    EW: so in answer to your question


    EW: i guess maybe?Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    EW: you probably dont know this jim but it gets really hard sometimes for the rest of us to figure out exactly how we feel about something


    EW: or about a person


    JW: Hmm


    JW: I think you are right. About me not knowing. I’m not sure what you mean


    JW: But you are older than me


    EW: ahaha not by much bro


    JW: It seems simple to me, but I guess things with people are never simple, because people are not simple


    EW: got that right


    JW: And the way that I think things are is usually wrong and not actually how they are at all


    JW: Because I don’t understand people really well


    JW: you know


    JW: But still


    JW: If you think you might like her, you should say something


    JW: to her


    EW: man what im saying is i dont even have definitive enough feelings to go that far


    JW: You think she’s pretty, right?


    EW: jim we cant be having this conversation you are the actual worst at keeping secrets


    JW: But it shouldn’t be a secret!


    JW: If you think a girl is pretty you should tell her because she’ll probably be happy about it for like three or four days


    EW: but girls sometimes read into that stuff and i dont want to send the wrong message


    EW: even if it maybe is the right message but just premature


    JW: I don’t know


    JW: I told Elizabeth she was pretty at her birthday party, and she seemed really happy about that


    EW: of course you did


    JW: well it was true!


    JW: I think that Elizabeth is very smart, and she doesn’t jump to conclusions


    EW: i think you are correct


    JW: You know how you wanted me to explain just what I meant   earlier so there was no misunderstanding? She’s like that all   the time


    JW: She is careful with words, because she cares about them


    JW: like how I care about how things look, and colors and stuff, but she cares about what people say and what they mean “between the lines” or whatever, which is why she likes reading poetry that is hard to figure out


    JW: So I think she will understand


    JW: The worst thing that could happen is that she doesn’t feel the same way, but then she would respect you for telling her because that’s how she is and you two would still be good friends, even though she would probably say it in a way that sounds like the opposite of what she actually means


    JW: Are you still there?


    JW: This is just what I think. I don’t know very much about people and relationships I guess so maybe you shouldn’t listen to me


    EW: jim you are strangely wise sometimes


    EW: i hear you but im still gonna hold onto this for a while


    EW: i think i should get my shit figured out first


    JW: Okay


    EW: now listen jim


    EW: i know this is hard for you


    EW: like nigh impossible really


    EW: but can you really try to not talk about this to liz the next time you talk to her


    EW: or any times thereafter up until i give the all clear?


    EW: i mean i havent even talked to Isaac about this


    EW: and hes like my go-to guy for preventing me from being a dumbass


    JW: I’ll try


    EW: i should talk to Isaac though


    EW: havent heard from him in a minute


    EW: or dwayne


    JW: Dwayne is scary


    EW: damn right


    EW: but he knows whats up


    EW: him together with isaac is so weird


    EW: like a fucking grizzly bear hanging out with a dachshund


    JW: haha!


    EW: all right


    EW: let me know if anything new comes up


    EW: i mean like weird shit


    JW: Okay


    EW: see ya


    JW: Bye!


    Jimothy leaned back in his chair, far enough that for a moment he felt the exhilaration of free-fall. With a squawk and a wild flail, he was able to set himself aright. The clouds outside now showed a faint grey against the dark evening. Twilight. Jim had always found twilight skies problematic to paint. It was so difficult to get the subtle tones just right. He could get the colors but he could never quite get the emotions inside of them. This was how it was with most things Jim found beautiful.


    Somewhere, far out over the rooftops and treetops, someone else was looking at the blue twilight clouds. She was high up in a tall blocky building, white as pearl, cut with lines of dark windows. She was in a bed, in a blue gown, and her skin was saggy and soft and pale, and a plastic tube was attached to a needle in her arm. She was confused, confused and alone, frustrated. But she looked at the sky with clear hazel eyes, and it was the same sky that Jim saw, and for a brief moment they were looking at each other, eye to eye, seeing each other, recognizing each other. Jim tried to tell her that he loved her, that he missed her, but it all slipped away, vanishing as though he tried to grab a handful of smoke. The sky outside was just the sky, and the clouds were just clouds, but Jimothy knew that there were lots and lots of people out there under it. His mother was just one of them. All those other people were entire people, with more thoughts and love and fears than he could ever understand. He didn’t know them, but they were still there. Thousands, millions. The weight of it all pressed down upon Jimothy. He felt his heart pumping harder. A dull pain throbbed behind his eyes. He tried to take deep, slow breaths.


    His room was too dark. He reached over and switched on the night light. Colors began melding and forming on his ceiling. He looked at the colors, watched them shift and fold. He tried not to consider the overwhelming reality of other people. He imagined a fantastic scene: a great big tree with auroras hanging like curtains from its branches, rising over dark mountains. He began to calm down.


    Thock .


    He turned to look. Something had  thock ed nearby. It sounded like a blue rubber ball bouncing all by itself.


    Thock .


    It came from his other window, the one overlooking the back porch. Jimothy rolled his chair past easels and piles of paper and prints to the dark portal. He put his paint-splattered hands on the splintery wood of the windowsill and looked out into the darkness. He thought of the Line, which was still a little orange and fuzzy, but present. This was all real.


    He unhooked the latch and slid the window up just as another  thock  sounded. He watched as a blue rubber ball floated up from the darkness below, was briefly illuminated as it hung for a moment in front of his face, and then dropped back into the congealed night outside his window. The frantic barking of Hazel sounded from down below. He also, apparently, had become aware of this anomaly. Or, he had just woken up. Or heard a bird. Or, perhaps, had detected something beyond human perception. Jimothy had once suggested to Michael that maybe when Hazel dashed around aimlessly he was actually protecting them from evil spirits. Michael thought this unlikely. Hazel was just aimless. People, Michael told Jim, also tend to dash around aimlessly, but are far better at justifying themselves.


    Again Jimothy heard the percussive noise of the ball making contact with the wood of the back porch. Again the blue orb appeared, illuminated in the light, and then fell back into shadows. The next time he was ready. When the  thock  sounded he stuck out his hand, palm upright. The ball reappeared, as if by magic, and fell right into his hand. He hadn’t even tried to catch it.


    Jimothy had expected it to feel like a normal rubber ball. And it felt exactly like a normal rubber ball. He sensed no life in it as he withdrew it from the darkness back into his room, closing the window in case it got any ideas about escaping. It didn’t move or quiver. Just a ball. He held it up to the dim colorful light in his room.


    He had to show Mike.