The Lights In the Sky

Chapter 5

That was it for a while as far as the weird stuff goes. It wouldn't start up again for another couple weeks. I know you aren't very interested in the normal stuff, but it might mean something to somebody. And now that I've gotten myself here, I understand that I shouldn't have ever resented the normal stuff to begin with.

A lot of my time was taken up by football. Not just practice and games,though that was a majority of it. Even walking down the hallway at school, it was all I really heard about. "Good game Friday,""nice pass the other night," all that. I guess if you asked me why I played football, it was because that's just what you do in places like this. You have your sport that you start playing when you're little and you play it until you graduate. Some of my teammates had aspirations of going pro. Not me, though. I couldn't tell you the names of more than a half-dozen professional football players. I watch the Super Bowl every year with my dad and Frank;that might count for something. It kept me in good shape and everybody at school knows my name, which is cool. Deborah liked that I was in shape more than I did. Not in a shallow way, but it made me attractive to her. Of course, there's this kid named Jerry on the team who is about three hundred pounds of fat and even he has a girlfriend. He's one of those kids whose face gets splotchy pink spots when he runs and he gets that look in his eye like he's half-dead. I don't talk to Jerry too much.

Maybe I was just too busy those few weeks to notice anything. I woke up,went to school, went to practice, came home, ate dinner, and went to bed. That was about it. Usually before bed I would call Deborah or she would call me. We talked for maybe a half hour before my eyes would inevitably start closing on their own and drool would form at the corner of my mouth. She could tell that I was falling asleep by the sound of my voice and she'd laugh a little and say goodnight.

She told me she loved me one of those nights. It was kind of perfect,too, because I was already half-asleep and it felt like a dream. My phone was up against my ear, my head resting on a pillow. The room was cool, the blankets under me. And she said goodnight. And then she said she loved me. I'm pretty sure I smiled, even though I was alone. I wanted to fall into those words and the way they made my skin warm. I said it back to her and she was quiet for a really longtime. Then she said goodnight again and hung up before I could respond. For a moment I thought maybe I upset her. But then I was asleep. A text from Frank woke me up an hour later and I was still in the same position, with the phone on my cheek. It was some stupid joke, I can't even remember it now. I told him goodnight, too, but didn't say I loved him. I do, though.

A few days after all that, I was riding with my dad to school again. We weren't saying much. My dad was really quiet after the dream happened. I think it was bothering him that Tabitha went to my mom's room instead of his. And maybe that I was too old to go to either of them. I wonder if that kind of thing causes parents to worry. My dad's pretty introspective anyway. My mom blames that on him being a Catholic. She calls it being sensitive, but I think it's more complex than that.

When my dad gets like that, he likes to take the long way to my school after dropping Tabitha off. I don't mind, but it bothers me that I'm always waiting for him to say something and he never does. He wants to spend more time together so we can talk, but then he never ends up talking. So we just drive down the gravel roads between cornfields and wind our way around until he finally decides it's time to drop me off.

That was what happened that day. We were driving out in the country,avoiding school but not acknowledging that we were avoiding it. And we took this turn a bit too fast, which was fun because the back of the truck swung wide and there was a quick, exhilarating moment of g-force before my dad got us stable again. Even when he's being introspective, he likes to make me smile with that kind of stuff.He's not witty like my mom, though. As we straightened out, he hit the brakes. Not because he was afraid we were going to crash, but because of the cornfields.

Remember Paula from the gas station? It was exactly like she said. The rows stretched out in front of us, seemingly forever. Thin wisps of smoke were escaping from the husks, strands of gray ribbon twisting in the air. The tassels at the tops were black, singed on some plants and burned away completely on others. There was no sound except the purr and clank of the truck's engine. No birds. No bugs. No wind. It was like a movie about the apocalypse where they show all the decimated cities. These streets that were once crawling with people and taxis are totally deserted and everything feels still. Sort of a more rural version of that.

Dad opened his car door and stepped out. I didn't want him to go; it seemed dangerous. But I didn't want to stop him and seem afraid,either. So I just watched nervously from my seat. He took slow steps across the gravel road. Each one was accompanied by a harsh crushing sound. Dad reached up for the stalk that was growing closest to the road. When his hand was near it, he hesitated, wiggling his fingers a little. He looked at me. I shrugged.

He touched the corn with the tips of his fingers. Pulled them back quickly, but without a sound. After a second, he grabbed the ear and snapped it off the plant. He carried the smoking pod back toward my side of the truck and I rolled the window down.

"Here,"he said, "it's just a little warm." I put out my hands and he dropped it into them. I rolled it back and forth a little. The husk was crisp, no longer waxy but not exactly burned. I pulled back the green shell and the vegetable underneath was still bright yellow.Only a few kernels near the top were browned. When I pressed one of the brown segments down with my thumb, it crumbled away into ash.

I asked my dad what the hell happened. He hates it when I curse around him usually. But I was confused and knew he wouldn't care. He took the ear back with care, almost cradling it in his hands. When he was back in the truck, we drove to the school very, very slowly.