Fly High, Fly Low [ON-HOLD]

Chapter 5

FLY HIGH, FLY LOW
By GinoongONEGANI

CHAPTER FIVE

JAY GRUMBLES as he blows the bangs out of his eyes, trembling hands busy pouring water in a glass. He gulps it down, teeth locked on the rim like he intends to eat a chunk. He brings it down, and it doesn't sound so great against the tiled counter.

When Marcus leaves, he rushes to the kitchen to drink a glass of water. He hopes the water could flush the anger coursing through his veins. His fingers around the glass tighten, he sees, it isn't enough to extinguish the fire inside him. And it tightens more. And more, his knuckles turning white.

His muscles are jerking underneath his skin, dying for some action. Right now he could careless about his grandparents. He wants to rearrange Marcus' face with his fist alone. He doesn't know there's a violent part of him that exists. Then again, he has never been in a situation that pushes him to be one until today. Admittedly, the company's situation makes him more sensitive lately. His berserk button that once inaccessible, can be operated by a simple nudge now.

There's a pitter-patter of feet behind him. He can feel his mother burning a hole in him. For a moment she's still, not speaking, just standing there as though waiting for the other to turn around. Jay bows his head down, adamant about refusing the idea of confrontation. The last one does not end well.

"You didn't really punch him, did you?" She is breathless, like she just ran a marathon. There's a note of desperation in her voice that it gives Jay the impression that she will believe him if he says no.

She already knows, why bother asking, Jay thinks.

"Did you know why I punched him?" Finally Jay wheels around so he can see how his mother's face hardens at the confirmation. It's enough for him to hold his tongue and avert his gaze. He doesn't want to make it worse than it already is. And voicing it out will spark a new wave of anger inside him.

"Nevermind."

"This is the reason why I want you to stay at your grandparents' for the meantime," she says, pointing a finger at him. She puffs an air, willing the tears to go back behind her eyes. When she cries, her nose will turn in a bright shade of red. "It's affecting you too much."

She stifles a sob. Jay knows it, too, her inability to make a coherent sentence when she starts crying. How many times does he have to see her like this, Jay thinks. It's a lot darker now, the circles around her eyes.

"This is our problem," she says after sucking air. She does not cry. She does not look at him. "I want you to spend your vacation like every kid does, and let the adults handle their thing. This is not yet your world." She brings a hand up to cover her eyes out of frustration, inhaling sharply.

Jay waits as she composes herself. When she raises her gaze to meet his, he knows that her mind is set. Because her eyes never lie, and the determination in them tells him she wants Jay to stay out of it.

"Pack up your things," she says, looking at the clock hanging on the wall. Later, his surroundings will be completely different. Nothing's really special with their house, made with the same concrete just like any other houses are, but he finds himself committing the image, how the grey blends well with the white, every corner and every turn, even the dust that resides on the shelves, in his mind.

"We'll leave exactly 1 PM." She takes her leave, her phone over the ears, probably calling his grandparents to tell them the sudden change of plan. What face will his grandparents make at the news, he wonders.

Jay presses his lips together. The footsteps grow louder, like someone's walking beside his ear. It's too quiet. He wants to shout. He doesn't want to, he wants to say. He breathes in, and out, then in again, out. No, he's accepting the decision as it is.

He takes the stairs two steps at a time, gliding up. The sweat that trickles down his neck makes him want to scratch the skin until it gets raw and tattered. He doesn't. That would only solidify his mother's claim that he's stressed.

In a matter of seconds, he succeeds in making his room a disaster, his shirts all over the floor. He walks up to his shelf and empties it of its content. If someone were to walk in on the mess, they would think someone has broken in. This is not how he usually packs. He used to be organized.

Jay folds the clothes messily and into the trunk. The books fit perfectly in one of his travel bags. He decides that he will deal with the creases later once he calms down, and will probably cry over it a bit. Because he hates it when his books get creased.

He looks around, his room looks clean now. No, vacated. His bed, though always folded neatly, looks like it has been abandoned. The table that always appears busy, now empty, makes his heart ache. He puts his bag down on the tabletop, searching for a particular book. When he finds it, he places it beside his lamp as though waiting to be read. As though waiting for him. He's able to relax at the thought. Somehow it feels like he won't be gone for too long.

Longing fingers trace the image in the cover, from the clouds to the birds. He doesn't know but it feels like it would be a good read once he comes back. Now he can think of this whenever he has nothing to do at his grandparents' place, and let the time pass. Soon he will be coming back without him realizing it.

One last glance inside, he sighs, and pulls the door close with him. The click tells him that no one will ever get inside. It's both terrifying and reassuring ---  to know that, probably by the time he's back, it's the only thing that does not undergo a change. 

It's like he's bidding farewell to a close friend.

His mother is waiting for him by the car. Jay wedges his stuff to fit in the trunk. There's finality in the sound when he slaps the lid close. His mother enters the car first, followed by Jay whose hands have a mind of their own to secure the seatbelt around him. She is a decent driver, but once she told him she crashed in a tree. His father has refused to let her drive on their dates since then.

Once settled, they hit the road.

The towering buildings are a bit sickening, both literally and figuratively. They are so tall they appear to have reached the sky. The smoke from passing cars burns in his eyes, he closes the window at once. Not to mention, the sun is already at its peak and it hurts in the skin.

They’re almost four hours into their car ride, and the dull grey has been replaced with the gradient of dying forest. Jay watches as a pair of birds fly through the blue canvas side by side, enjoying each other's company in the mother nature that is their home. Something in his stomach bubbles, and it can only be envy.

His eyes flick from the fields they’re currently rumbling through to the mountains ahead. He rolls the window down, the breeze greets him, embracing him around its gentle arms. Another hour and what kindly be termed as town springs up to view. They bounce alongside the car with every hole they hit as the road gets rockier.

This is it.

The car enters a private road, yet another pebbled driveway, that leads to the front of a house. His grandparents' house.