Winter White

This is Jeremy.

Right now, Jeremy is doing several things he does not usually do:

First, he is running. His pudgy, chalk-white knees are visibly protesting the lack of balance that they are not used to, but they do not seem to be communicating effectively with the rest of Jeremy’s body. Now in leaps and bounds and skips, his sneakers pound the ground with increasing desperation. Second, he is sweating. And breathing heavily, which would be third.

Everyone is staring at him, but that is nothing new.

The weight of a lifetime on his shoulders, Jeremy stands before the angry glow of the “Michael’s Toys” sign…

~0~

This is Jeremy in a typical mood.

Today is his second session with the doctor, whose fake-gold nameplate says “Stacy Warren”, information that Jeremy uses to annoy her weekly. It is also the second session in which they have stared at each other in more or less absolute silence, each one waiting for the other to break or make a move. Each is granted their defenses: Jeremy his typical black sunglasses, and Dr. Warren her prestigious medical record which – she believes – gives her an air of confidence. Of course, each one of them see’s right through the other’s shield.

“Jeremy… Why did you come back here? What are you hoping to get out of this?”

Jeremy shrugs, habitually twisting the silver dial on his wristwatch.

“I don’t know, Stacy. Ask the parents, they’d know better than me.” Jeremy’s voice is a bothersome nasal, easily likened to the disturbance of an alarm clock or a rather loud bird. Dr. Warren has dealt with worse, but, as usual, finds herself quite disconcerted by his tone.

“I did… And they said there were a lot of issues you felt you needed to work out. That you felt you were under a lot of stress.”

Jeremy laughs his most rehearsed and sullen laugh, unwilling to explain that his parents have a recurring tendency to confuse his feelings with their own.

“Huh. And what else did they say about me, doc? That I still suck my thumb? That I piss my sheets every night?” A new tone of voice, rife with sarcasm:

“Please help me, Stacy! I’m just the little albino teen that no one’s ever loved!” He sinks back in to the couch, readjusting the tip of his glasses with a single lanky finger. Dr. Warren stares at him, both offended and fascinated.

“The word ‘hostilities’ was brought up a lot.” Jeremy shifts again, his roundish figure pressuring the couch into creaking submission. He stares at the ceiling for a moment.

“Hostilities…” He laughs, but this time sincerely.

“What’s everybody expecting? I’ve got nothing against good will. Or children. Hell, maybe if I had some long-beard disease, the kids would confuse me with Santa Claus instead of freaking Dracula!” Stacy sat back.

Jeremy realizes that he has been shouting, and lets his blood-red eyes meet the floor as he cleans his sunglasses with his shirt.

~0~

This is Jeremy at the mall.

He leans against a support beam, doing his best to watch the crowd and stay nonchalant. Of course, a few families point him out, but it’s not as though he expects any better. For now, Jeremy thinks of new adjectives to call them by, and old cynicisms to apply to the various people in the food court. A few goths walk by and wave to him, but that seems to be the best Jeremy can get. How long has it been? Half an hour? An hour? Jeremy adjusts the dial on his wristwatch.

Abruptly, Jeremy feels a tug on the bottom of his shirt. He looks down slowly, and it is a boy of eight or nine.

“’scuze me. What time is it?” Jeremy stares at the kid through his sunglasses. He has the sort of face that could sell shampoo.

“Its 3:41.” The kid nods, but doesn’t move. He just stares.

“’scuze me?” Jeremy notices the kid’s mom standing a few feet away, who has cast a disapproving look.

“3:41.” Jeremy looks back up, trying to signal that the conversation is over.

“Dude… What’s wrong with your face?” In a split-second, Jeremy makes a decision about how events will follow, and smiles his widest grin.

“I’m a vampire. I’m here to suck your-” As Jeremy completes the process of pulling off his sunglasses, the kid staggers backwards in horror. Jeremy bares his teeth as the mother rushes forward to console her child.

“Louis! It’s ok, Louis…”

Jeremy walks away, feeling the vaguest sense of self-loathing welling in his gut. The last thing he hears is “Can we go to Mike’s Toys?”

~0~

This is Jeremy with Sylvia.

Jeremy sits on a bench, his belly smaller than it would be when he first set foot in the mall that day, and his smile broader. For now, he has his arm around Sylvia, and his glasses are in his left hand. His concentration loops in and out, back and forth between Sylvia’s words and his own thoughts.

“…Not bone white. More like lily white or snow white. It’s a pretty kind of white, like in winter.” Jeremy is watching the autumn leaves crumple, and is momentarily serene. He looks back at her now, taking in the beauty of her, and all the intricacies that compose the softness of her face.

“Huh?” Sylvia’s smile shrinks a little. She does like this boy, appearance aside, but would do much better with him if her weren’t so self absorbed.

“…Forget it. Just saying that your handsome, is all.” In these days, Jeremy leaves less to words, and takes Sylvia’s hand in his, putting the glasses down. For a while, they stare out over the world.

“I’m really glad we got to spend today… Here.” Says Jeremy. Sylvia smiled again.

“Me too.”

Fighting his anxieties and fears, building himself up and succumbing to his hormones, Jeremy leans in for a kiss. It is delicious, and his first.

Sylvia gets up.

“Jeremy... Um… Woah. You could have…” Her sentence trails off, as Jeremy’s anxiety retakes him. He puts his glasses back on promptly.

“Uh…. Sorry.” Jeremy experiences the most awkward silence of his life.

Sylvia has homework to do, and will see him tomorrow, and leaves him utterly alone.

~0~

This is Jeremy having the strangest thought…

As he walks away from the food court, Jeremy feels the slightest tremor of guilt creep up his body. By the time he’s in the electronics section, it’s running through him in pangs and spasms, attacking his stability and balance. He goes into a bathroom to recuperate, happy to find it empty. He takes off his glasses and splashes water on his face.

Then, Jeremy stares at himself in the mirror. He stares for a long time.

Soon, he is running to Michael’s Toy’s, and it isn’t long before the neon sign is giving him its most accusatory look… Jeremy walks in.

All the noises of youth assaulting him, Jeremy scans the black-tinted aisles for the kid, trying to ignore the stares from those around him. Finally, Jeremy spots him near a model-train set.

“Um… Louis?” Louis looks up, and his mother steps into view. She shoots Jeremy a look that could boil hot water, but he deflects it with ease. Slowly and meticulously, he walks closer…

“I’m… Er, I’m sorry. For yelling at you… And, uh, scaring you. Sorry.”

Louis stares at Jeremy.

Jeremy stares at Louis.

“It’s OK, dude.” And the boy goes back to his trains. And the hot water cools. And the universe continues to revolve while Jeremy walks out with a strange sensation inside of him.

This is Jeremy at peace.