Jewel
is lying on her back thinking of her childhood in the mountains of West
Virginia. Grandparents raised her alone and didn’t send her to school until she
was eight. Reacting to the sight of other children was what lingered in her
mind as she laid waiting for the dryer to sound. Sunlight streaming through the
window shades made its way across the wall onto the one hanging picture. It was
of a small farm, a sort of rural scene you’d find at a Saturday morning yard
sale. Her attention remained fixed on the ceiling, speckled with subtle
glitter.”Who thinks this looks nice?” she thought, fixated on something
superfluous, but all too debatable in her world. “Those kids back then probably
saw all kinds of things,” she said aloud, leaning right to reach the saucer on
the floor. Another sip went down slowly and she lay back on the floor, staring
up again.
Specks
of dust floated through the sunlight before Jewel’s eyes. She sat up once more,
disenchanted with her fading buzz and sighed heavily. The sun warmed the back
of her head. She closed her eyes and sank into impatience. Silence seemed to
elude her when she yearned for it the most. Rustling leaves and spotting an animal
in the brush became distant happenings. Jewel bowed her head a little more,
straightening herself up doing so. Nostalgia had taken time and emotion from
her but left tips to manage its poison. She sat for what seemed to be no longer
than ten minutes or so. In fact, it had been almost an hour. The dryer sounded
but her attention remained elsewhere. With clasped knees and closed eyes, Jewel
began to tremble thinking of growth. Never in her life had she wanted to escape
more than now. “What do I do?” Jewel said quietly, fighting tears and a wild
imagination.
A
close friend came to mind as she sat sniffling. Her advice, the kind that
burns, felt all too necessary in this moment. Jewel let go of her legs and
crawled on all fours toward the record player just below the picture. Her
friend’s music was strewn across the carpet. It was too much for Jewel to sort
through. A Hall & Oates record caught her eye as she raised the saucer to
her lips again. She scooted forward, reaching for the music and hoping it was
as good as she remembered. Jewel was sure nothing could sound as sweet as it
once had. The record fell from the sleeve after lifting it carelessly. She
picked it up and placed it face-up on the player. The needle needed replacing
but it sounded normal to Jewel. When the Morning Comes filled the room as the
day ended with orange streaks falling on the far wall. Jewel was no longer
trembling. Her eyes opened and she grinned.
A knock at the door came just as She’s Gone began to play. Everything Jewel had contemplated that evening was
suddenly lost. “It’s probably Jaimie…forgot her key again,” Jewel thought. She got
to her feet, stretched her arms, and strolled toward the front door. “Someone’s
in a rush,” she said aloud hearing the hum of a car engine outside. A moment
before grabbing the door handle, she considered the chance that it was him.
With tiptoes, she lifted herself and peered through the peep-hole. All she
could make out was the silhouette of a woman in a dress, standing in front of a
car’s headlights.
