Mystic
The next morning, I checked my e-mail. One new mail from Listentoyourpeers.org.
“To whom it may concern,
Listentoyoupeers.org will be one years old next week! In honor of this momentous occasion, we’ll be hosting a party at our tower. You are all cordially invited to attend. Please see attached the flyer.
Sincerely,
Your friends at Listentoyourpeers.org”
How did they get my e-mail?
I checked the e-mail and moved to delete it.
Ring. Ring.
Mom calling…
“Hello.”
“Oh! You answered!”
“I know.”
“Well… how’s school going?”
“Good.”
“I’m glad to hear you’re doing well.”
I never said I was doing well.
“Glad we had this talk, Hank.”
Call ended.
This was the first time I answered her phone call since I went to college. What could there be said? I now know. I went about the rest of my day as usual. Class was interesting – new material, but the same people. Did anything really change?
I walked out of class and looked at my phone. The curt conversation still rested on my mind. My family never talked much. My mother and father were busy working all the time – a politician and a doctor, always too busy with their own lives and careers that the dinner table only ever had one person sitting at it.
They only ever asked me about school. That’s what I became focused on. Even now, away from home, they only ask me about school.
Which I wasn’t on anymore. I had wandered off to another place of the city I had never been before. It was an older section of the city – still brick mortar rather than concrete slab. Light cascaded out the windows and illuminated the stamped street. No cars were around and no people either. Every day, it seemed like I was finding myself somewhere new.
A door opened near me, and a woman walked out. She wore the strangest clothing for this time – gypsy garb. Above her hung a sign: “Mystic.” It suddenly made much more sense.
“Let me get a good look at you.”
“I’m not interested.”
“Don’t be such a rash boy, Hank.”
My eyes widened.
“I’ve been waiting for you, boy.”
Text and Images © Jonathan Lee
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