Wilson Coffee Shop (Part 5)

Jeremiah smiled as he took a giant bite of French toast. He took a swig of orange juice and smiled at Linda as she sat down across from him in her purple robe, taking the rubber band off of the newspaper.

“Linda, I think this breakfast is just what the doctor ordered.” said Jeremiah as he took another bite of French toast and patted his stomach.

Linda gasped. She held the newspaper up close to her face, and her eyes moved rapidly across the front page.

“What is it?”

“Jeremy…” she said as she handed the newspaper to her husband.

Jeremiah picked up the newspaper and felt the French toast come back up his throat.

Tragedy Strikes Davenport North High School

15-year-old Kylie Schwartz, a freshman at Davenport North High School, was pronounced dead last night after police responded to a call from Schwartz’s mother. Eileen Schwartz called her daughter to supper at around six-thirty, but her daughter did not respond. Mrs. Schwartz went upstairs and found her daughter in bed, surrounded by empty bottles of prescription medication.

Jeremiah set the newspaper down. He stood up and walked over to the sink, placing his hands on the counter. Linda walked up to her husband and wrapped her arms around him. Jeremiah turned around and squeezed her as tightly as he could, burying his face in her hair.

“You know what, Linda?” he said quietly, pulling her away and cupping her face in his hands. “I think it’s about time we opened up that coffee shop.” 

Wilson Coffee Shop (Part 4)

On Kylie’s tenth day at North High School, Mr. Wilson showed the class a video about bullying during homeroom. During the video, Kylie unzipped her sequined pencil pouch and emptied the contents onto her desk. One black pen, two red pens, one green pen, four mechanical pencils, and two regular pencils. She looked around the classroom. Four boys and four girls, not including herself. She looked up at the clock on the wall. 7:59. Looking back down at her desk, Kylie thought about how she wanted to arrange her pens and pencils. She decided to line the pens up green, red black, red and green on the right-hand side of her desk. On the left-hand side, she placed the two regular pencils outside of the four mechanical pencils. After she had arranged her pens and pencils, Kylie looked up at the back of Megan’s head and smiled.

~

Linda set down a plate of chicken, brown rice, and asparagus in front of Jeremiah and kissed his forehead before sitting down across from him.

“How was your day?” she asked as she unfolded her napkin and placed it on her lap.

Jeremiah shook his head as he picked up his fork.

“These kids, I just don’t understand them.” he said as he pushed around individual grains of rice. “There is a girl in my homeroom and math class who is late almost every day, and sometimes she doesn’t even show up at all.”

“Have you sent her to Principal Ferguson?”

“Yes, once.” said Jeremiah as he put down his fork to rub his temples. “I should send her again, but I honestly don’t want to, because my class is, well…less stressful without her anyway.”

Linda looked at Jeremiah as he rubbed his temples and ignored his food.

“Do you need some medicine?”

Jeremiah shook his head and stood up.

“No, no…I’ll be fine.” he said as he walked out of the kitchen towards the bedroom. “I think I just need some rest.”

~

Mrs. Schwartz felt her phone buzzing in her purse as she drove to Hy-Vee to pick up groceries for the week. It had been two months since her meeting with Principal Cross. Keeping her eyes on the road, she dug through her purse. She glanced at the screen of her phone, reading the caller ID.

Davenport Central High School

She silenced the call and set the phone back in her purse.

~

In homeroom on Kylie’s thirtieth day at North High School, she pulled a blue spiral notebook out of her backpack after she had arranged her pens and pencils. She flipped through dozens of full pages until she got to a blank one. Picking up her black pen, she smiled.

Megan Turner is the most beautiful girl I have ever met.

~

On Kylie’s seventieth day at North High School, a boy tripped her outside after school. A group of students gathered around, including Megan. They laughed as Kylie scrambled for her things. The boy picked up her sequined pencil pouch, unzipped it, and dumped the contents into a nearby storm drain.

“Arrange them now!” he said.

Megan grabbed the blue spiral notebook that Kylie was reaching for.  

“Oooh, is this your diary?” said Megan. The group laughed. Megan flipped open the notebook and did her best impression of Mr. Wilson clearing his throat while holding up his white binder.

“Alright, class!” she said in a deep voice as the group snickered. “Today, we will be reading Kylie Schwartz’s diary!” Megan cleared her throat again in a convincing impression and the students held their sides as they laughed.

“Page one!”

Kylie stayed on the ground. While on her knees, she watched Megan’s beautiful brown eyes widen. She saw the specks of yellow glowing like tiny fires. A gust of wind blew her black velvet hair wildly. It lapped against her pale neck like rushing water against white rocks. Kylie closed her eyes and inhaled the sweet scent of her shampoo. She opened her eyes and saw the brown eyes looking directly into her own. The normally pale pink cheeks were hot pink, and her soft lips were slightly open and trembling. The sun came out from behind a cloud and illuminated Megan, giving her a warm, bright outline and causing her skin to shimmer. The sight was blinding, terrifying, and beautiful all at the same time, and Kylie couldn’t look away.

“What is it, Megan?” a boy said.

“Yeah, Megan! Aren’t you going to read it?”

Megan looked at Kylie, to the notebook, and back at Kylie, who was still kneeling before her.

“What the fuck is your problem, you freak?” yelled Megan, throwing the blue spiral notebook on the ground in front of Kylie.  

“Megan, what’s wrong?” said one of the girls, rushing to her side.

“This girl is fucking crazy.” said Megan.

Kylie picked up the blue spiral notebook and clutched it tightly to her chest. She stayed on her knees and kept her eyes on the ground.

“Let’s get out of here.” said Megan. 

Wilson Coffee Shop (Part 3)

“Thank you for seeing me, Mrs. Schwartz.”

"Of course, Principal Cross. I came as soon as I got your voice mail." 

“Please,” said Principal Cross, motioning towards the leather seat across from his desk. “make yourself comfortable.”

“Is Kylie ok?” said Mrs. Schwartz as she sat down, clutching her Marc Jacobs purse close to her body.

Principal Cross adjusted himself and his seat and folded his hands across his desk.

“Yes, she is fine. But to be quite honest, I am very concerned about her.”

“What is it?”

Opening a drawer in his desk, Principal Cross pulled out a red spiral notebook. He handed it to Mrs. Schwartz.

Mrs. Schwartz inhaled quickly and held her breath as she opened the notebook. In harsh, tiny handwriting, the name “Michael Parker” was written at least a thousand times. She flipped through the notebook. Every page was the same.

“I don’t understand.” she said, setting the notebook down on the desk and clutching her purse as if it were a teddy bear.

“This notebook was given to me by one of Kylie’s teachers. I brought it to our counselor. She believes that Kylie could be suffering from an obsessive personality disorder.”

“How…how did this happen? I…” Mrs. Schwartz looked down at the notebook. “I’ve never seen Kylie do anything like this before.”

“Well, I did speak with our counselor a little about this…condition…that she believes Kylie could have.” said Principal Cross carefully. “Have you ever noticed any fixations that Kylie has had in the past? Possibly to a band, a celebrity, or even to a stuffed animal?”

Mrs. Schwartz lowered her head and closed her eyes.

“Yes.” she said quietly. “For months, she would only talk about this band, Fall Out Boy. That was the only thing she wanted to talk about. She only listened to their songs, had only posters of them in her room…I…” Mrs. Schwartz stopped. “I thought it was just a phase. That’s normal for teenagers, isn’t it?”

“Of course, but to an extent.” said Principal Cross. “Did it interfere with her grades, her social life?”

Mrs. Schwartz played with the clasp of her purse. “It was like pulling teeth trying to get her to do her homework.” she said. “And…well…Kylie has never had much of a social life.”

Principal Cross bowed his head and was silent. After a moment, he looked back up and pulled his seat closer to his desk.

“You said this went on for months, when and how did it stop?”

Mrs. Schwartz looked past Principal Cross as she remembered.

“It was all of a sudden. One day, the posters were up, the next day, they were all torn down and the CD’s were in the trash.” she said slowly. “A few days later, I went into her room and saw posters for a different band.”

“Have you ever noticed her…fixating…over a person like she has over these bands?” asked Principal Cross.

“No, never.”

Principal Cross frowned. “Have there been any extreme circumstances that may have triggered this… habit… of hers to advance?”

Mrs. Schwartz put her hand up to her forehead and sighed.

“Her father and I divorced about a year ago.”

Closing his eyes, Principal Cross nodded his head.

“Mrs. Schwartz, I am going to cut to the chase. After speaking with the counselor, I believe it is in Kylie’s best interest to start seeing a psychiatrist.”

Mrs. Schwartz clutched her purse and blinked furiously, fighting off tears.  

“Mrs. Schwartz?”

“Kylie is a normal girl. She’s just going through a rough patch is all.”

“Mrs. Schwartz, I understand the...well…social stigma that is associated with mental disorders, but I think it is obvious that your daughter needs professional help.”

Mrs. Schwartz stood up from the leather chair and swung her purse over her shoulder.

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention.” she said, holding out her hand but avoiding eye contact.

Principal Cross hesitated for a moment, sighed, stood up, and shook hands with Mrs. Schwartz.

“Please, let me know if there is anything I can do to help.”

“Thank you.” whispered Mrs. Schwartz as she turned around and walked out of the office.

~

After her meeting with Principal Cross, Mrs. Schwartz drove home and poured herself a glass of chardonnay. She sat down on a bar-stool at the kitchen counter and started to drink. Thirty minutes later, Kylie came home from school and saw her mother in the kitchen, crying. 

  

“Mom?” Kylie said.

Mrs. Schwartz looked up and wiped the tears off of her face. She sniffed and tilted her head back to drink the last sip of wine.

“You’re transferring schools.” she said quietly.

Wilson Coffee Shop (Part 2)

Kylie Schwartz unzipped her sequined pencil pouch. She emptied the contents onto her desk. One black pen, two red pens, one green pen, four mechanical pencils, and two regular pencils. She looked around the classroom. Four boys and three girls, not including herself. She looked up at the clock on the wall. 7:49. Looking back down at her desk, Kylie thought about how she wanted to arrange her pens and pencils. She decided to line the pens up red, green, black, green and red on the left-hand side of her desk. On the right-hand side, she would place the two regular pencils outside of the four mechanical pencils. As Kylie straightened her writing things, she heard the classroom door open behind her. Jumping slightly in her seat, she turned around to see a man, in his late-thirties or early-forties, wearing a button-down shirt and carrying a coat and a briefcase. He walked up to the long table at the front of the room and set his belongings down.

“Good morning.” said the man as he looked around the room and gave a weak smile.

The students didn’t say anything. One of the girls coughed.

“Ok,” said the man as he opened his briefcase and pulled out a white binder. “I hope you all had a nice Winter Break?”

A couple of students nodded.

“Good.” the man said. He opened up the binder and then looked up at Kylie.

“As you may have noticed, we have a new student in our homeroom.”

The four boys and three girls turned around in their seats to look at Kylie. She looked down at her pens and pencils, holding her breath.

“Don’t be shy,” said the man quietly, “why don’t you stand up and introduce yourself?”

Holding onto her desk, Kylie stood up slowly. As she stood up, she bumped the desk and disrupted two of the pencils. She quickly fixed them as she felt the students and the teacher watching her.

“Umm…”

The classroom door opened again, and this time it startled Kylie even more. She watched the tardy girl stride past and plop down into the seat in front of her.

“Sorry I’m late, Mr. Wilson.” said the girl loudly as she crossed her legs and looked at her French-tipped fingernails.

Kylie looked up at the teacher, Mr. Wilson. He was rubbing his temples and looking down at his white binder.

“Megan, I told you if you were tardy one more time that I would send you to the principal’s office.” he said without looking up from his binder.

Kylie sat back down, grateful that the attention of the class was no longer on her.

“Yeah, well I figured since it’s a new semester that I’d get a fresh start.” said Megan, pulling her hair behind her shoulders.

The class was silent as they watched Mr. Wilson. He kept looking at the white binder, and started tapping his fingers on the table.

“Alright.” he finally said. “But next time, I’m sending you to see Principal Ferguson.”

Megan perked up in her seat and even though Kylie was looking at the back of her head, she could tell that she was smiling.

Kylie couldn’t look away from Megan. She had never seen hair so beautiful. It was so dark that it looked blue. Kylie wondered what the best name for her hair color would be. She decided on Black Velvet.

“Kylie?”

Blinking, Kylie looked up and realized Mr. Wilson and her classmates were staring at her. She looked ahead and saw that Megan was staring, too. Her brown eyes were tinged with specks of yellow, and her dark eyebrows were long and beautifully arched. Kylie noticed the slightest hint of pink in her otherwise pale cheeks, and wondered if the color was makeup or an effect of the cold January weather. Her lips looked soft, and Kylie wondered if she regularly applied lip balm.

“Kylie?” said Mr. Wilson again. She could hear a hint of annoyance in his voice.

Kylie stood up and willed herself to look away from Megan.

“My…my name is Kylie. Kylie Schwartz.” she said, feeling heat rising into her face. She knew that her cheeks were not beautifully pink like Megan’s. They were probably a blotchy red.

“And where did you come from?” said Mr. Wilson gently.

“I um…well I come from here, I guess. I just transferred is all. From Central.”

“Why?” said Megan, with her perfectly arched eyebrows furrowed and her delicate nose turned up.

Kylie felt her cheeks burning even more and imagined the yellow specks in Megan’s eyes were tiny, glowing fires.

Mr. Wilson cleared his throat awkwardly and held up his white binder.

“Let’s take attendance.” he said.

Kylie sat back down, keeping her eyes locked on her pens and pencils until she was sure that Megan had turned around. Once the burning in her cheeks had stopped, Kylie looked back up at Megan and her black velvet hair. 

Before it Breaks

This piece was inspired by the song "Before it Breaks" by Brandi Carlile 

It had only been a dream. But it had been so clear. I could see it. We were together. I could see the hills, black in the moonlight. I could smell the evening air, chilled yet burnt from a distant wildfire. We were holding hands. You were faintly snoring. I smiled at the limestone surrounding us, thinking what I would have carved into it if I had been Borglum. I rub my thumb over your hand, feeling every wrinkle, like rings on a tree trunk. And then I knew, if I had been given the chance, I would have carved you.

Say it’s over.

Say I’m dreaming.

Say I’m better than you left me.

But I’m not.

I needed room to bend,

but you just let me break.

The dream has changed. I see the house. Our home. The home your grandparents lived in. The wildfire is closing in. The air is hot. I am choking, gasping for breath. I squeeze your hand to wake you but you aren't there. I rush inside to our bedroom, a place where I have always felt safe. I climb into bed and pull the blankets over me, but something is wrong. Our bed has shrunk. There used to be plenty of room for both of us, but now there is hardly enough room for me alone. The fire is consuming the house. But I don’t care. I only want to know where you are. I reach for the picture frame on our nightstand. The picture has changed. I am smiling, but there is an empty space next to me where you should have been. The fire enters our bedroom and I throw the picture into the flames. I lay down, letting the fire enter, and I can feel it burning my heart before it breaks. It had only been a dream.