Andrew Smith - The Marbury Lens

Smoke.

Everything smells like cigarettes.

The stink helps me get my head focused so I can will my eyes open. I dont know where I am, but I can tell there are cigarettes. The smoke turns my stomach, but at least it is something I can connect tolike an anchor, I guess, and it keeps my head from floating away again.

I want to move.

My arms are telephone poles.

Im lying on my back, right?

Wasnt I supposed to be leaving soon?

My eyes are open. I am sure I felt the paste between the lids giving way, but its like trying to see in a swimming pool. A yellow and gray swimming pool, where I can make out the shape of a window and the outline of Freddie Horvath standing there.

Smoke.

I fall to sleep again.

My whole first day is like this.

Five seconds long.

Let me back up a bit.

I lived in my grandparents house then. Wynn and Stella. I guess its kind of a stupid thing to say, because Id never lived anywhere else.

It was one of the biggest houses in Glenbrook. Wynn built it when my mother was just a kid. It sat on over four hundred acres of some of the best grape-growing land in Central California, and thats how Wynn and Stella made all their money.

I was born on the kitchen floor.

Stella said I couldnt wait to get here. Thats why I came out between my mothers blood-spattered feet, right on Wynn and Stellas nice wood kitchen floor, while Amy leaned over the breakfast table grunting, her legs locked in the only contraction shed had.

She was seventeen.

Ive only seen her one time that I can remember, and I always dreaded the two times per year Id feel forced to say awkward hellos by telephone.

Sometimes, okay, a lot of times, Id stare at that spot on the floorStella drew imaginary circles around it with her fingers whenever shed retell the storyand Id wish that Amy had been standing at the top of a ladder or something so Little Jack would have hit his head just hard enough that hed never know any world could ever exist outside the lukewarm nothing of the amnesiac womb.

It was the first weekend of summer, and just about everyone I knew was going to be at Conner Kirks house getting drunk that night to celebrate twelve weeks with no school. Of course, I was going to be there, too. Thats what kids do.

But mostly all I cared about was getting away. Wynn and Stella promised to send me to England for two weeks, and my flight was in just five more days. Wynn decided he wanted me to visit his old schoola grammar school in Kentto take a tour. He told me if I liked it enough, hed send me there for my junior year. And I already knew Id like it enough, that there was something itching inside that made me want to get as far away as possible from that invisible circle on the kitchen floor. Conner was going to come, too. His parents had enough money that they made the same offer to Conner about attending St. Atticus. If we both liked it. So it was like this fantastic opportunity for me and my best friend to do something together wed probably never get a chance to do again.

I could say it was going to be the trip of a lifetime, but thats just because I cant clearly remember what it was like slipping around naked and wet, gasping for my first breaths on the kitchen floor while Amy screamed and cursed, The goddamned baby! The goddamned baby! At least, thats how I always imagined it happened.

In the end, Conner and I both ended up getting more than we bargained for there, I guess.

But that one Saturday morning at the start of the summer when I woke up, things felt changeddifferent. It was already so hot, and I could tell it was going to be the most hellacious boring and long day. I got right up from bed and looked out the window like I always do, snaked into a T-shirt and basketball shorts, grabbed an armload of extra clothes so I could spend a night or two at Conners, and I didnt even say much more than hey to Stella or Wynn as I passed them in the kitchen.

Im not exactly certain what made me such a loner around them. It wasnt that I hated Wynn and Stella, but I think I probably expected them to abandon me, too, so I made it as easy as possible for them to assume I wasnt even there.

Im going to be at Conners till Monday. His parents are gone for the weekend.

Wynn nudged his glasses higher and looked me over. It made me feel like Id forgotten to get dressed or something. I squeezed the bundle of clothes tighter under my arm.

He could stay here if he wants, Wynn said.

Oh, yeah. That would be real fun, Wynn.

I shrugged. I have my phone.

Stella said, Have a nice time. We love you, Jack.

See you Monday sometime.

I pushed the screen door open and walked across the wet lawn to my truck, thinking Id go over the pass and head down to the beach. And I ended up in the other direction for no reason I can recall, driving, instead, toward Paso Robles out along the dirt roads that cut perfect squares through my grandfathers vineyards.

I called Conner on my cell phone. I knew there was no way hed be awake at seven thirty on a Saturday, and I got ready to shut it off if I heard his annoying voice mail greeting.