Post 7

This wasn't in my outline, but it seemed to be needed. We'll see if I like it later.

Dan had a few things to do before returning to work on Monday, so he left after dinner was over. Peter didn’t tell him anything about why he looked so sick earlier in the day and it wasn’t mentioned to his parents during dinner, either. Peter went upstairs and lay down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. With the door closed, the room was quiet. The only light was from the small desk lamp, and that was on the other side of the stack of boxes, so it threw shadows across the bed. With his hands behind his head, he closed his eyes to reflect on the events of the day. His mind never wandered far from the baggage carousel. Here was a man surrounded by a strange aura that only he could see. Peter wasn’t even sure if Aura Man could see the things around his own body. He certainly didn’t act as though there was anything amiss. And the strange energy that passed between them when Aura Man suddenly turned around made Peter wonder what may have gotten into him. After it happened, he started feeling bad, and that feeling has subsided only a little.

Peter opened his eyes and remembered the energy he felt after the incident at the Sinclair’s. He sat up in bed quickly and reached for his glove and ball which were on top of the boxes next to the bed. He put the worn leather glove on, and tossed the ball into it a few times. As he did so, he envisioned himself on the makeshift pitcher’s mound in his back yard, getting ready to throw the ball at the pitch-back.

He had to try it. He stood up and went downstairs, his glove still on his hand. As he passed through the house, his mother saw him and chided, “Keep that ball away from my windows.”

“Okay, mom,” he called over his shoulder as he went out through the back door. The yard was dark, but he could still see well enough. His father had taken the pitch-back down, so he set his glove down and set it up again in its usual spot. He then went to his pitching spot and faced the pitch-back. He breathed a couple times to relax, and situated the ball in his hand comfortably, fingers along the stitching. He cocked his leg and drew his hand back to throw the ball when his vision blurred slightly. Interrupted, he stopped and went back to his starting stance. He breathed again, and started to go into the pitch again, expecting this time that his vision would blur, but it did not. He was still interrupted, and stepped away, walking around in a circle a few steps. He got himself set up again, drew his arm back and finally threw the ball. It hit the top part of the pitch-back lightly and bounced back to him, rolling across the grass. The ball was thrown so softly that it barely made it back to his feet. This was much weaker than he was accustomed to being.

He bent over to pick up the ball when he heard a car pull up on the street. He stood still and listened for any sounds, and heard a car door open and close, followed by footsteps towards his driveway. He walked that way and met Laura halfway up the driveway. They hugged and kissed hello and turned to walk towards the house and the light by the door chased the shadows away from Peter’s face. Laura saw him and stopped, saying, “You don’t look so hot. Are you up for company?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure,” answered Peter. “I’ve been out of it ever since the airport. There was this guy there who was a real jerk, and he ran into me at baggage claim.”

“Did he hurt you?” asked Laura.

“No, not exactly,” said Peter, not wanting to get into the full story right here and now. “Can we talk about it tomorrow? Right now, I think I’d rather watch some TV or something.”

“Sure, whatever you want.” She took his hand and they walked into the house. His parents were in the living room watching some drama, and his sister was busy in the dining room getting some stuff unpacked. That didn’t leave them many options. They went into the game room where his father kept his pool table. There was another TV in here that they turned on. They watched America’s Got Talent and talked about the various acts that came on, some really good, some really, really bad. But it was mindless entertainment, which was exactly what Peter was looking for.

During the commercials, they talked about graduation – the ceremony was on Tuesday – and about other things they’ve already covered. They also decided to go out for lunch the next day and maybe talk about why Peter was feeling so out of it. For today, Peter was just thankful to have someone around. It kept him from feeling overwhelmed, and helped him feel a little more sane after a crazy day. A crazy couple weeks, even! He realized that these strange things started happening after he and Laura talked for the first time and looked at her as he connected the dots. “What,” she asked, noticing his stare.

“Nothing,” he said. “I’m just looking at you.”

After the show was over, Peter walked Laura to her car and kissed her goodnight. He walked back in the house after she drove away, and as he approached the light by the door, his vision blurred again momentarily. The energy he felt at baggage claim came back, only now it was in his head instead of his shoulder. He made his way inside, took some Ibuprofen and went to bed.

At one point during the night, he awoke from another strange dream. In his dream, he couldn’t see anything but yellow-white light, and occasionally shapes moving around him, overexposed and indistinct. It almost seemed to him as though he was crying in a bright room, and his tears obscured the shape of those around him. When he awoke, he sat up in bed. It took a few minutes for his eyes to adjust and for him to be able to see the outline of boxes and furniture in his room.

He got out of bed, turned the light on and went to the window. With a tug, the shade rose up, and he saw the reflection of him standing in his room. When his gaze lifted to the reflection of his face, he jumped back, startled. Looking again now, everything seemed normal, but for a moment, it looked as though the left side of his face had swollen up. He touched his face and it felt normal to him. Turning to the mirror over the dresser in his room, he confirmed that he looked fine, but it would be a while before he would be able to get back to sleep. What was wrong with him?