Firefly

  There was a shack in the woods, centered almost perfectly between our houses. We met there ever since my eighth birthday. We’d lived next to each other all of our lives, but only first discovered each other that day. I guess, sometimes it takes a while to uncover things, which have been right in front of us our entire lives.

                                                                                                                     January 15th, 2003

                 I hugged Buttercup, my teddy bear, to my chest. He was the only warm thing in the room. Even my loathed corduroy jacket, couldn’t keep me warm enough.

                 “Buttercup, why do you think they fought?” I asked my motionless bear. 

                 His black beady eyes stared back at me, with no answers.

                    I began to cry. It had been at my birthday party, twelve little girls crowded around my parents as they cut the cake. They had only given me my piece when I heard my father scream.

                 “Mary! What have you done?”

                    I turned around to see my father’s bloody finger. All of my friends ran away, yelling at the top of their lungs.

                 “It wasn’t my fault!” my mother shouted back. “Why was your finger in the way?”

                 It escalated from there, plates flew, curses were shouted across the yard, and all of my friends left. I never heard from any of those friends again.

                    The fighting continued into the night, the sound of shattering glass was constant, and it seemed as if one of them was going to end up dead.

                 “Mommy!” I cried, over my parents.

                 Luckily, I was the one thing in the world which united my parents. They stopped fighting for a moment.

                 “It was just an accident, daddy. I don’t think mommy meant to cut your hand.”

                 My mother smiled, tears coming to her eyes. Even my father, who was hard as steel, had a few tears lingering in his eyes.

                 “It’s much more than that, Kara. We’ll explain it when you get older.”

                    I hated when parents said that, just because I was a little girl, they acted as if I was insignificant to them. It wasn’t long before they split, and as I got older, I could still see the tension between my parents, it was obvious that one accident at my birthday party couldn’t have sparked their newfound hates for each other.

                 I couldn’t sleep that night, so I snuck out my bedroom window and walked into the woods. Being just a girl, I dragged my teddy bear along. As long as he was around, nothing could ever hurt me. I tiptoed into the woods, shivering from underneath my thin pajama top and bottoms. I’d never really explored the woods behind my house before; my parents had always forbid me from going further than then the tree line.

                    But I decided to be brave, and for the first time in my life, I disobeyed my parents and ventured within the tree’s grasp. It wasn’t as scary as my eight year old mind had imagined it being, large, menacing, and holding a large bear ready to gobble me up. The worst I encountered was a Gardner snake in the long grass which came up to my thighs. Then, it came into my sights, a rotting old shack. It was obvious to see the shack had burnt at one time, and the roof was almost completely gone. A lightning storm had probably gotten it, that’s what got everything in Georgia.

                 I proceeded to walk inside through the extremely unlevel door frame. I would’ve been more terrified of the building collapsing on me if there had been a roof. Even so, there was an eerie feeling about the entire place. The tall grass hadn’t ceased to grow inside the shack, and the moon’s rays shone down in the middle, creating almost a spotlight.

                    I sat down in the grass against the wall. I could feel it sink slightly, with my weight pushing in on it. This caused me to jolt, but I soon got used to the feeling and hugged Buttercup to my chest and cried.

                 It was therapeutic to just sit there and cry. Letting my tears flow down my cheeks and into my lap, I knew I could probably never understand what my parents were going through, all I knew is that I wanted it to stop. I wanted to be happy again, but most of all, I wished for my parent’s happiness.

                 I heard the crack of a twig, and soon after the rustling of some grass. My mind began to run wild; it was the bear, coming to eat me. I secretly wished it would, just so I wouldn’t have to see my parents fight again. I was a pathetic child yet, seeing the two people I loved and trusted more than anyone else in the world, fight, it crushed me, and I wanted to leave it all behind. I wanted to be gobbled up by the bear and disappear to a different world.

                 “Hello,” said the bear.

                    I hadn’t realized I’d closed my eyes until I opened them. Instead of a bear, I was greeted by vibrant green eyes. The boy sitting in front of me was dirty, his jeans were ripped, and mud was splattered on his face and in his blond-red hair. He was obviously a year older than me, for he was much taller, and had that awkward authority over me which all older boys had, when I was eight.

                 “Why are you crying?” the boy asked.

                    His green eyes stayed locked on me, in pure curiosity. It was slightly annoying, but I just straightened my shoulders and shook my head.

                    “My parents,” I said. “They fought.”

                 The boy nodded his curly hair bouncing as he did.

                 “They do that sometimes,” he said. “I remember when my daddy punched my mommy once and then the police came.”

                 My eyes widened. My young mind couldn’t comprehend the police coming to my house to solve my parent’s problems. The boy’s story didn’t seem to compare to mine.

                    “What happened?”

                    “The police took my daddy away. I still get to see him sometimes though, but he’s behind a glass wall. Mommy says it’s better that way, that we’re better on our own.”

                    “That sounds scary,” I said, hugging Buttercup tighter to my chest.

                    “It was, but everything’s okay now.” The boy stood up, the grass coming up to just above his knees. “What’s your name?”

                    “Kara Jefferson,” I replied.

                 “Mason Dukes,” he said, his Southern drawl accenting the ‘a’ and ‘u’. He reached out his hand to me, “nice to meet you.”

                    I took his hand and stood up. I felt important, shaking an older boy’s rough hand. Most older boys looked down on girls even just a year younger than them, like I was Mason. I could tell then he was different.

                 “Have you ever seen the fireflies?” he asked.

                 I nodded. Everyone in Georgia had seen fireflies.

                    “No, I don’t just mean any fireflies. I mean these fireflies. They live in this here rotten wood. All you have to do is knock on it.”

                 He did just that, knocking precisely three times against the fragile wood. I was afraid the wood would break, however, that thought was forgotten when I saw hundreds of shining, little yellow bugs fly out from holes in the wood.

                 “Wow,” was the only word to leave my mouth for the next ten minutes. The fireflies lit up the sky, brighter than the moon ever had.

                 “They’re the brightest in all of Georgia. I bet you can’t catch one,” he said, smirking.

                    With that, we both set off trying to catch one of the glowing insects in our hands. Neither of us caught one that night. I never found out why he was out so late, or why he knew about the fireflies. All I cared about was the beautiful creatures in the sky.

                 We both fell asleep in the shack that night, giving our mom’s a fright in the morning. However, from then on, our mom’s gained a friendship, much like Mason’s and mine.

                                                                                                                            May 6th, 2007

                 On the second Saturday of every month, for the past four years, Mason and I would meet out at the shack to watch the fireflies. We would spend out until the wee hours in the morning watching the insects put on a show for us. Our parents hardly worried on those nights, knowing exactly where we would be.

                 However, on the fourth anniversary of our first firefly escapade, I began to notice Mason changing. His face was thinning, small hairs were popping out on his chin, and his voice sounded funny. With all of these changes, came a different side of Mason. He was more irritable, and I started to dread those Saturday nights. So, eventually, I just stopped going.

                 “Why don’t I ever see you anymore?” he asked me one morning at the bus stop. He was home schooled, but he always made a habit to wait with me and the other kids from the neighborhood.

                 “I don’t know,” I said. “I just stopped going.”

                Mason shrugged. “That’s okay, I guess.”

                 He stopped waiting at the bus stop after that. In fact, I rarely saw him, except occasionally when our mother’s would get together.

                                                                                                                        April 18th, 2011

                   The smoke overcame all my senses. My eyes watered, my nose itched, my mouth was dry, and overall, I was a wreck. I threw the pictures of us into the fire; I watched his smile fade into the flames before bursting into another bout of sobs.

                  Clay was a jerk. I knew it wouldn’t be long before the whole town knew he cheated on me. Not only that, but he looked me right and told me the truth. I think that was the worst part, he was able to admit it straight to my face with no remorse whatsoever. That was what killed me.

                  “That a signal fire?” a voice asked me. I could already tell it was his; he hadn’t lost that soft chuckle in his voice.

               “I guess you could say that,” I said, not taking my eyes off the flames. “It’s not exactly working.”

               Mason walked through the grass and stood next to me, staring into the fire. “Who says? It brought me here.”

                  I turned to look at him. His hair was still just as curly, and the green in his eyes reflected the fire, with extreme intensity.

                  “Yeah, I guess so,” I said, feeling my cheeks turning red. I wasn’t sure if it was from the fire or not.

               “So, why are you crying?” he asked, he rocked back and forth on his heels, with his hands in his pockets.

               “Mason…” I said, “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

                  I could feel his eyes on me for a moment. 

               “Fair enough,” he said. “Although by the pictures you have in your hand, I’m guessing it’s about a boy.”

                  Tears flowed out of my eyes again, I couldn’t help it. Soon, warmth swept over me, warmer than the fire. His arm around me set a cozy feeling throughout my body. It didn’t matter that we hadn’t talked for years; we had both changed since then. He was seventeen, and I was sixteen, eight years older than when we had first met.

               “My dad got out of jail,” he said, suddenly. This caught me off guard. When we were younger Mason told me his dad would be in jail long enough for him to disappear. I figured that must’ve changed. “He lives in Atlanta now. But that’s still too close.”

               I wasn’t sure how to reply, so instead, I just knocked against the wood, three times. The fireflies emerged from their wooden home. Both of us fell silent and smiles took over our previous expressions. I threw the rest of the pictures in the fire, forgetting his name.

                  I rested my head on Mason’s shoulder watching the fireflies spell out nonexistent words in the sky. It was nice, to just sit there and watch the little bugs as they whizzed around.

               “Kara…” Mason said, his voice was slightly alarmed.

               “What?” I asked, softly. My mind was clouded with the images of the fireflies and the sensation of the cold grass beneath my feet.

                  Before I knew what was happening, I could feel myself being lifted, and the sight of smoke was all I could see in front of me. It clogged my lungs, was hot against my skin. I felt as if I couldn’t breathe.

               A few minutes later, Mason had carried me back to my house. We sat in my backyard as we watched the fire department put out the fire. My knees were against my chest and my head resting on top of them.

                  “The fireflies,” I whispered.

                  “I know,” he replied. “I’m sorry.”

                  I shook my head, seeing the smoke beginning to subside.

               “If only I hadn’t started that stupid fire.”

               Mason reached out and placed his hand on my arm.

              “Don’t talk like that. The shack was bound to burn down anyway,” he said.

              “Those stupid fireflies! Why did they have to live in that shack?”

                 I buried my face into my knees and cried. Mason just sat there, softly rubbing my arm. He was probably confused, but I needed to cry, it was my fault the fireflies and the shack were gone. We sat there for what felt like an hour before I finally looked up.

                 “Thanks for saving me from the fire,” I said, standing up and walking back into my house.

                                                                                                                                  June 8th, 2012

             The grass was growing back, was my first thought as I wandered into the woods on that warm June night. That was the night I had accepted my diploma. The next day I would travel to Louisiana to settle into my dorm room. It scared me, moving on with my life, leaving everything behind.

             I sat down at the edge of the clearing where the shack had once been. Throughout my life, I’d never once questioned why the shack was there, or why it had obviously been forgotten. I just used it to my advantage and never wondered if it meant anything to anyone but Mason and I.

             I dug my fingers into the grass finding small remnants of the rotten wood. It was scorched black, and stripped clean of the original first layer of wood. Even so, I stuffed it into my back pocket and lay down in the grass where I would’ve in the shack. I gazed up at the stars, almost imagining the shack back around me.

             A slight rustle startled me and I jolted up to see his green eyes looking back at me. The same green eyes I’d first seen nine years ago, they still held the unchanged youthfulness within them.

             “I heard you got into LSU,” he said, coming closer to me.

             I nodded. “Yeah, my dream college,” I muttered.

             “What’s wrong with that?” Mason asked, sitting down next to me.

             “It’s in Louisiana.” I dug my fingers into the grass, pulling it out forcefully. I wouldn’t look up.

             “That’s not that far, trust me, I know you’ll do well there.”

             “How do you know?”

             I felt Mason reach down and grab my hand. His hand was rough, but warm.

             “I just do,” he said, smiling down at me.

             We stayed silent for a while, with Mason just holding my hand. I wished the fireflies were still there, the only thing that lit up the sky were the stars, and they were boring.

             “What about you? Doing another year at community?” I asked, finally breaking the silence.

             “I’m not sure. I’m thinking about going to Atlanta, and going a year there.”

             I stared at him confused. The palm of his hand began to sweat.

             “Are you sure you want to go to Atlanta? You know, because your dad’s there.”

             He shrugged. Mason nervously started to fiddle with my fingers. “Atlanta’s a big city. Besides, I’ve gotten older now. It might be time to forgive and forget, you know?”

             “Yeah, yeah, I know. That’s good. Just, just be careful. I don’t want to see you on the news.”  

             “You be careful too,” he said. “You’re too pretty to be on the news.”

             “Is that your idea of a pick-up line?” I smirked.

             He smiled, and carefully took my face in his hands and kissed me. It was as if all of our feelings from over the past nine years were coming out in that kiss; sadness, love, happiness, fear.  

             When we finally pulled away, I opened my eyes, which I hadn’t realized I had closed.

             “We’re never going to see each other again, are we?” he asked, his hands still cupping my face.

             “Don’t say that, we might someday when we come back here.” I looked down at the grass, hoping that one day, what I said would become a reality.

             The air was beginning to cool off, signaling the middle of the night.

             “I hope so,” he said. Mason pulled his hands away and stuffed them into his pockets, taking a step back away from me.

             “You’ll meet a guy at college. A guy, who treats you the way you deserve, offers you what I couldn’t.”

             I shivered slightly, not sure if it was from the breeze or from Mason’s words.

             “And you’ll meet a girl prettier than me, someone who can give you all the comfort you need, and who won’t burn down your favorite place in the world.”

             Mason smiled, although he wasn’t looking at me.

             “Kara, look,” he said.

             I scanned over to where he was fixated and saw a small yellow, glowing dot, dancing across the night sky.

             “Some must’ve survived. It’s a miracle.”

             “It’s amazing,” Mason said, grabbing onto my waist. “Why don’t you try to catch it? For old time’s sake…” he trailed off and let go of my waist.

             I laughed and shook my head. “Let’s let it be. Maybe, they’ll all return one day.”

             “Yeah, one day,” he repeated, and smiled.

             We watched the single firefly drift off into the forest, back to where ever it came from. The sun began to rise and the air was beginning to warm up. I would have to leave for Louisiana in an hour.

             “Mason, I have to go.”             He nodded and stood up along with me. “Goodbye Kara Jefferson, and remember that you’ll always be my firefly. Short lived, hard to catch, but brighter than everything else.”