Red Candy

He found them once, underneath my desk. Innocuous and orange-ish, his childish curiosity couldn’t stop from asking why the bottle was taped underneath the oak antique. Thinking quickly, I told the boy they were “Daddy’s Candies”, and that it was of the utmost importance that he never touch them. Particularly, and I made this as clear as possible -- mommy must never find out. That’d be just perfect, to have her learn my Truth from the lips of a seven year old gossip. I never changed the hiding spot, though – I couldn’t. The nature of the beast (metaphorically speaking, of course) was that if I needed to find them, I couldn’t. It took me years of practice to remember where they were – four inches in, two palms across.

The truth about being me is that nothing is ever loose. I’m not complaining, no, not the least bit – take away my order, my map, my Plan, then Lord knows what kind of shenanigans I’ll get into. There was a time; before I knew about the candies – before I knew about the Truth. I’d left my bike outside one night like so many a boy, and the chain had frozen solid. When I rolled out of bed in the morning, throwing the screen door open and expertly jumping the three back steps, I lifted up my bike, kicked the pedal, and didn’t move. I kicked again. Nothing. My head was beginning to pound, and I felt the shameful tears of a 10 year old boy begin to form at the corners of my eyes. I kicked again, and I began to move. Moving quickly across the grass, I continued to speed up – my heart pounding harder than it ever had before as I went faster, and faster, and faster. But as I went to turn the handle, I noticed a very strange phenomena indeed; my bike handle had disappeared. In fact, so had my bicycle. In fact, so had my legs. I was moving faster now, ever faster, feeling myself coming apart at the seams feeling everything begin to whirlwhind losing track of the ground the sky the trees feeling so intensely like I had to go go move faster fas— I don’t know if he saw me (but what would he have seen?), but I’ll never forget what I saw. I felt him. He was no boy – he was no human, he was slow. I don’t know what sense of justice took hold, but whatever it was, he was wrong. And I kept moving faster and faster until we collided. There was no sound. There was no Hollywood horror fest. Everything came to a halt once we’d touched. My heart beat was normal, my clothes were neatly tucked around me, my bicycle was an inexplicable 6 miles behind. And there were… candies? Hard suckers laying at my feet. No wrapping, no sticks. I popped one in my mouth and the rest down my jeans and walked home, one step at a time. One foot in front of the other, slowly sucking on my candy. So I always need to know – four inches in, two palms across.

Dinner was delicious. Myra is quite the magician when it comes to Hamburger Helper and green beans, and I made sure to let her know it. Ray was having a fit, though, being seven, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. Some great injustice had been done to him by the powers on high, and he declared that someone would pay for this crime. Taking only the smallest amount of processed hamburger that would allow a rogue vigilante to bring his nemesis to justice, he dropped his plate at the sink and slammed the door. I glanced across the table at Myra who shared my bemused expression, and then dropped my gaze again to lose myself in my thoughts and the beautiful swirls of what American’s call ‘gravy’.

As Ray was being wrestled into his pajamas and dragged into his room, I went downstairs to attend the Truth. I sat down at my desk, walked my fingers four inches under the desk and slid it two palms across to grasp two piece of loose tape. I pushed my chair back so hard it hit the wall with a crash, and I got on my hands and knees to search the carpet beneath the desk. Nothing. I needed to get away – far, and fast. The candies were simple, but if I neglected, the response from the universe was prompt and swift. I didn’t even bother with a coat – I just ran. I ran down the driveway, into the street, across the park. There wasn’t anywhere I could go.

And then I felt it. I felt my blood begin to pump faster, I felt my head began to pound, and I could no longer stand and contemplate – I had to move. I began running, faster this time thanks to help my feet were receiving from somewhere I never understood. I looked down and those feet I took for granted didn’t even exist anymore – just a trail of red smoke. I ran faster. Slow d—faster, faster… left turn, speed, rush, air, and warmth. rush to warmth. I hit one on the sidewalk, but at my age, that wasn’t enough. fences, bushes, walls, none were a problem to me now. Veering off the road, I ran through houses now, hitting one after the other after the other, the power surges leaving me helpless for more. SLAM, SLAM, I hit more and more, unable to stop. Until I did. I wasn’t dressed, but I’d somehow found my way back to my neighborhood. My…

I stood outside my door. The door frame – the door was in splinters on the floor. I stepped up the stairs, one at a time. Breathing slowly, I opened Ray’s bedroom door.
On the floor were two piles of red candies. Inexplicably, on the desk was a third. There were a pair of children’s pajamas slumped over the desk and a nightgown over the back the of the chair, where Myra must have been. Next to the candies was a crayon scrawled letter that Myra had no doubt forced him to write.

“Daddy – i took yor candy. i’m sorry. I lov

END