That Week At Patches

Chapter 7

"Shhh" a voice spoke from the darkness.

Michael turned around. There was a shadow leaning its back against the wall. Michael could see the individual hairs on its head flowing in the wind. He could almost smell a perfume wafting towards him. The figure turned to him and began walking toward him. The smell became more apparent. It was familiar, almost calming and reassuring. He knew it immediately. The figure stood right up to his face to the point where he could almost have expected to feel breath on his face, but he didn't. The shadow was cold, it had no real life, only the echo of one. Her hair continued to blow gently in the wind that seemed oddly absent from the room.

She grabbed his hand, which lay limply down at his side. Her other hand reached up and laid gently on his shoulder. Without thinking, he reached out and rested his empty arm around the shadow's hip. She was wearing a short dress that flared outward giving the shadow a fuller more feminine figure. Michael closed his eyes and sighed. The shadow rested her head on his shoulder. He held her tightly, he didn't want to let go of the shadow. Waves of emotion crashing at the shore of his mind. He wanted so badly to fall victim to its pull. To find himself lost in a riptide, pulling him further out into its loving arms. But he needed to stay strong. He was a man, and he needed to be strong for her, at least that was what he was told was his role as a man, though he couldn't help but desire something more. The dreamlike atmosphere was their music, and to that music, they danced. It wasn't an elegant dance, but it was pure, necessary and needed. Like middle schoolers during their first homecoming dance, Awkward and lopsided. Both partners not knowing what to do. Like a first kiss, or the first time making love. They slow danced in the dark, neither of them knowing what was real, and what was a facade. It didn't matter, they were happy. They were together. Nothing could separate them. He didn't want to leave.

"Good morning."

He heard a voice coming from the doorway. He sat up in his bed.

"Breakfast is almost ready." Henry chimed.

Michael climbed out of bed and stood by the mirror. He had gone to bed shirtless. The scars were still there, always. Reminders of the trauma he had gone through. He opened the dresser and grabbed another plain t-shirt. He put it on and walked to the kitchen. Henry was staring intently at the eggs he was cooking. Focusing... a little too intently. Michael sat down at the table. Sammy walked in and sat down at the second chair next to him. Leaning against his shoulder tiredly. Henry paid him no attention. Charlie walked in tiredly. Michael saw Henry smile.

"Good morning sweetheart," he said. Turning his gaze to Charlie who was wearing a purple nightgown and rubbing her eyes.

"You want some eggs?" He said taking the pan off of the stove temporarily and gesturing with the spatula. Charlie smiled and nodded.

They all sat down at the table and ate. Henry looked up to Michael who was biting into a piece of toast.

"I have to go to work today, Jen is going to watch the kids. You don't have to go unless you really want to, but you can stay here if you want." Henry chimed biting into a piece of bacon.

"Actually..." Michael began. "Could I go to the library?" He asked, never looking up from his plate.

Henry looked up surprised.

"The library?" Henry asked a bit confused.

"Yeah, my friend wanted to meet me there. We were going to hang out and go to lunch and stuff." Michael explained.

Henry nodded.

"That's ok, just make sure you're home before curfew."

The library was just down the street from the high school Michael had gone to before the incident. Henry gladly drove him there. He was happy to see Michael eager to interact with his peers. Michael walked in the door, immediately he was hit with the smell of old books and wood. It was reassuring and calming. He turned to see Chris sitting at a table with a few friends by his side. A study group. Chris looked up.