I don't think this is as well written as the first part. But oh well... At least I was able to finish it today. Please let me know what you all think. Thanks in advance.
Part I can be found here.
Tomorrow Does Not Exist - Part II
By: Joseph Dean
©2008.12.13
I have a strong distaste for sleeping. Lying still for eight to nine hours each day really is not my way to properly spend time. It's just not productive. People stay awake all hours of the night because they simply refuse to go to bed, but once they are asleep, it is near impossible to get them out of the situation they worked so hard to avoid. Senseless is the only way to describe it. I understand that the body needs its rest to function properly, but can there be no other way for it to revitalize itself?
I used to spend my nights staring at the same ceiling for hours, thankful that my brother and I were still alive, glad that we had each other, calm that our injuries had diminished over the years, annoyed that we were still trapped in that house, and furious that no one ever believed our truth. I was really just afraid to sleep. I was convinced that Connell would stumble into our room drunk while I lied there motionless and commit some execrable act for which I knew he would show no regret. Allowing my body to sleep for long periods of time only authorized Jacob's vulnerability to expand. I had to keep myself alert for any signs of danger to him. I failed multiple times in the past, but I made a promise to our mother that I would not allow harm to come to my younger brother. I knew she would be forgiving if she knew that I did not keep that promise. Jacob was not going to be hurt again.
Looking back, I probably should have taken extra measures with Connell and Sharon to ensure their slumber. I don't think I had any sleeping pills stashed away at the time, but it did not matter anyway. Jacob and I were able to maneuver our way through the still night undetected. Out of sheer habit, we would very cautiously look down each alley and glance around each corner. I was just waiting for him to be there.
For once I was glad that our town of Material, Arkansas, was so small. One was never far from the city's borders. Jacob and I passed the final convenience store that marked the edge of the town. Its lights shined through the window and cast out onto the sidewalk. I mumbled to Jacob, telling him to keep his head down and his feet moving.
"Grayson," I heard a man call out as we made the first official step into the similarly small, neighbouring town of Wohlstand. Jacob and I froze. It was not his voice, but I recognised it immediately. Slowly, I turned on my heel to see Jonathan Miller standing in the doorway of the store; one foot was in, the other out.
I held back my arm and motioned Jacob to stand behind me. "Good evening, Mr. Miller," I greeted casually. I was always nice with the townspeople, even though none of them were nice to us in return. Even now I do not understand what their problem with us was. Connell probably told lies to everyone in town. We were almost certainly bad children who harmed ourselves for attention. I can just imagine what they thought.
"What're you two doin' out this late?" he asked, the thick Southern accent too readily apparent. I was grateful Jacob and I had more sense than that.
The ten seconds between his question and my response expanded. It seemed like I stood there for hours thinking of how to form the lie. I could have told him that Connell wanted us to transport some goods to a friend of his in Wohlstand, or perhaps Sharon had some old clothes she wanted to give to Goodwill. No, they were both unbelievable.
"The truth," Jacob whispered into the back of my shirt. It took another second for me to get what he meant. I gently nodded.
"We're trying to flee again," I responded with a faint smile. Jacob was exactly right. No one would believe that we would try to run away from Connell; they all knew that he found us each time. It was obviously impossible that we would never get out of the house with a suitcase.
The store owner laughed. "That's a good one," he said. I forced myself to let out a solitary exhalation, which luckily enough sounded like a short, agreeing laugh. Jacob and I were having all sorts of fortune that night; as Mr. Miller was about to speak again, the store phone began to ring. He held up his index finger to us, as if that would have made us stay put. He walked back into the store, and as soon as his eyes were no longer on us, I picked up the suitcase and we dashed down the street.
Rural, uncultivated farm land spread out around the outer limits of Wohlstand. As we got farther away from Material, the street grew darker, and the traces of civilization vanished. I wished we had a vehicle at the time. I can remember the pain I felt in my legs after walking such a long distance, and I knew that Jacob had to have been feeling even worse.
The summer nights were contently warm in our little section of Arkansas. As the wind blew through us, our bodies recognised the warmth as comfortableness. It did not help our case in staying awake. Like always I had stayed awake by Jacob's bedside all throughout the previous night and had not rested since. I was about to collapse.
The few trees scattered about the fields ached in pain as the wind blew their branches from side to side. Neither of us had a watch, but I could tell we had ventured for a few hours. My stomach was empty; my body was running on stomach acid. It took a few seconds for me to see that Jacob was not by my side anymore.
"Jake?" I called out. I heard his groan and turned to see him kneeling. I let go of the suitcase, letting it fall to the ground with a solid thud. Jacob held up his hand to stop me before I made it to him.
"I'm fine," he muttered. He was lying.
We needed food.
We needed sleep.
We needed to keep moving.
I cannot exactly explain the amount of hope that surged through me when our eyes saw the streetlights that symbolized Wohlstand's urban area. We had been to that city in the past, but I saw it in a whole new perspective. As we stumbled closer, I started thinking of what we were going to do. I only had a few dollars on me – what was left of the money I spent for Jacob's birthday. I really should have searched the house once I found out that Connell had been lying about his income, but I was only focused on getting out of there as soon as was possible.
All the hope that coursed through my veins vanished, but not as a result of pessimism. It was flushed out by happiness that needed room to make its essence known. Even today I find it amusing that I was so excited about seeing a simple bench. A bus bench, ironically enough. We could have used that; however, I was not lucky enough to find a bus traveling through a deserted road at three o'clock in the morning. Jacob and I sat on the bench and stretched our legs out in front of us; the joints cracked.
"Jacob," I began, quietly, yet seriously. "You probably don't remember, but when we were younger, Mom sat us down one day and gave us this rather long lecture on morals. She stressed the importance of knowing the difference between what's right and wrong."
"What about it?" he asked. "We've always done the right thing."
"That's what I mean. If we're going to endure this," I gestured to the buildings, "or anywhere for that matter, we need money. We need food, shelter, supplies…"
"You're suggesting we go against what Mom said?" Jacob spoke up. I could not read him. His mouth expressed sadness, his eyes fear, and his breathing anxiety.
"Not exactly," I responded. "I would never think of going against Mom, but these things we will have to do are essential for our survival. Mom would want us to do whatever we had to get away from Connell, away from that house." He nodded and let his head fall. I saw tears roll down his cheeks. Sad over the loss of our mother or sad that we were going to be disobeying her, I could not tell. I put my arm around his shoulder. "It's going to be okay," I whispered.
We had to get off the streets. Connell had the habit of waking up at night, and I did not want him calling the police and having them find us on that bench.
"We can't stay in a hotel here," Jacob muttered. "When the police are notified, they'll be checking all of the inns between Material and the border." I sighed; he was right.
A new dilemma was presented: disguises. Great, I thought.
"We need to keep moving," I said. We reluctantly resumed our pace. I was glad normal people slept at that time; I don't think I could have handled the tons of odd looks that two boys with a suitcase at 3:30 A.M. would have gotten.
I checked the few bills that I had in my pocket at the time, ten dollars even. I constantly looked around for any place that we could sleep. My eyes fell on a pharmacy but for a different reason than sleep.
"Disguises," I said aloud. Jacob looked up at me. I put my arm around him and pulled him towards the entrance with me. I knelt down and let our eyes meet. "Stay right here," I instructed sternly, "and do not talk to anyone." I walked through the sliding doors of the twenty-four-hour pharmacy. What pharmacy would stay open all night? Maybe my luck was changing.
The fluorescent lights were hurting my eyes since I was used to the darkness from outside. I hurriedly rushed through the aisles. "Where is it? Where is it?" I kept asking myself. "There."
The sleepy cashier looked at me strangely when I placed the bottle of peroxide and the box of blonde hair dye onto the counter. He rolled his eyes, and I paid the eight dollars it cost. I ran out of the doors, excited to show Jacob how we would cloak ourselves. Wait. Where was Jacob?
"Jacob?" I exclaimed. "Jacob!?" I just stood there, frozen in fear of where my little brother could have gone. I looked around frantically.
"Grayson!" his voice responded.
Oh, thank God, I sighed. I turned to see him pointing to a house about two blocks away from the pharmacy and ran to him. "I told you to stay there!" I screamed at him.
"I'm sorry," he blurted out; I knew he didn't mean it. "But look. The house is abandoned. If we can get in…"
I smiled. A home: somewhere to sleep. We rushed across the driveway, unaware of the throbbing pain in our legs. My hand shook the front doorknob vigorously. No success. It was the same with the back door.
The house was not abandoned. The owners were just not home at the time. There were furniture and pictures, I could see through the window. I hoped that the family was made of typical Americans. We walked back around to the front door, and I pointed to the welcome rug. Jacob raised the corner and retrieved the key that was hidden under it.
I unlocked the door and let Jacob go in first; I followed with the suitcase. I told him to go directly to the couch, lie down, and sleep. Jacob didn't object. Within minutes I heard his steady breathing pattern. I decided to take a minute to look around the home. We had all ready broken in; why not browse a bit?
The calendar hanging on a wall in the kitchen had the word, "Hawaii," written across the current week in red capital letters. It was Thursday. No one would be coming home or finding us anytime soon. I walked around the supporting wall and reentered the living room.
I stared at the second vacant couch and could not resist. I stretched out across it and melted into the cushions. I stretched my legs after kicking my shoes off and arched my back. I exhaled and completely let my senses go. I missed sleep. I always complained about it – and I still would for many reasons – but at that time, it was my main priority. My eyes closed, and I think that felt the best of all. Why did I ever say that sleep was not productive? It recharged my body. The only excuse I used to give it up was keeping an eye on Jacob, but we were both perfectly safe there.
I let out one final yawn and slipped off into slumber. When we would wake up, a new day would begin, and Jacob and I would get out of Wohlstand. That is, if I could overcome the pleasure that latency provided.
