A Portal to Leya (19 page)

She keeps spinning on her heels, and then drops down
into the chair, throws the lemon wedge in Neal’s direction. It bounces off his
front tire.
Don’t you know Emily Dickinson’s famous poem? Death is
personified as a suitor? No…I suppose you wouldn’t
. Leya’s smile fades.
Just
go, Neal,
she says.

My heart starts racing. I think of what he could do.
Yet, what I expect does not happen. Instead, Neal pauses for a moment. I feel
his eyes on me, but I don’t look. I hear him turn the key, rev his bike and
take off. I should feel satisfied. Instead, I am anxious. I sense that there is
more to come. Death is personified as a suitor. Leya’s words hang in the air
long after the sound of Neal’s Harley is nothing more than an annoying buzz.
But that’s the problem with the events—they are not always satisfied with
remaining in one state. Once I had a rash that didn’t stay a rash. It turned
into a poison oak mess all over my body and I had to take steroids. Something
bellows out, an energy that needs to release itself. It knows it must before it
explodes. It is alive and potentially dangerous
,
so that
what is
perceived as innocuous is the calm before the storm. And it’s messy and
deceiving. It wasn’t Neal. It was a sociopath that had no remorse. Neal was
merely a foreshadowing of worse things to come.

Lance

COMMENTS

Anonymous
Wow!
That is an amazing memory, I think you loved Leya more than you realize but
glad you moved on.

2cents
Keep it real.

Heather
beautiful. I love your blog; I love you, Lance Bryce xoxoxo

@heather
ditto

LAST
HOURS

October
30
^th

Reprint
from Ed Leedskalnin Advertisement

The
Miami Daily News 1945

Attention
Researchers!

Read about magnetic current, what it is, how it is
made, what makes it, and the way it runs in the wire. Then you will know what
the North and South Pole individual magnets can do, and then you will know what
electricity is. Send a dollar by return mail and you will get an eight thousand
word booklet, postpaid, and in addition you will get a folder describing what
is mineral, vegetable and animal life, and a drawing of a perpetual motion
holder. The reading is not intended for the general public. Only those who want
to experiment should order the booklet. The other people should save their
money.

"I have discovered the secrets of the pyramids,
and have found out how the Egyptians and the ancient builders in Peru, Yucatan,
and Asia, with only primitive tools, raised and set
in place blocks of stone weighing many tons!"

~Edward
Leedskalnin, 1945

I
guess Ed had to make a living like all of us. Today it would be more than a
$1.00 for his pamphlet. Ed died with his secrets. But, here’s my take on it: he
found the spot, where all energy converges and orchestrates channels of energy
like musical notes perfectly pitched rising up from the North and South poles.
Once you get that spot, you can manipulate the waves and move mountains (so to
speak). All gravity disappears, magic happens. I imagine Leya Blackwater there
now, encapsulated in a cyclone, whorls of energy masses where beads of light
bounce off her fingertips and shine like diamonds in her eyes. She floats,
weightless, transcending the physical world, only to become a wisp of wind
swooshing by.

Last
Hours, October 30
^th

I
see Leya after school. She is laughing, throwing her head back, hair loose and
flipping, walking with Susanne. She is eating jelly beans from a bag. Susanne
is smoking a cigarette. That’s why they go for a walk. I see the smoke snake up
into the air and dissipate. My window is Leya and so I hear the laughing, smell
Susanne’s cigarette. She will stay at Leya’s house for a couple of hours and
then leave at 4:30 or so. I can see Susanne’s yellow Volkswagen parked in the
driveway. I want so badly to come down to say hello, but I’m mad at Leya
because she never called me to ask if I was going to the dance. I’m mad too
because I saw her outside the school with Neal, leaning up against his truck,
and they were both smiling, touching each other. When I walked by, she barely
noticed me. So, I decide not to come down and say hello, tell Leya I’m going to
the dance. I’ve never gone to a high school dance. I’m thinking about how cool
I’ll look in my gangster get up, slicking my hair back with Vaseline, and
talking to Chad on the phone. An evening chill is blowing in the last time I
catch a glimpse of Leya on her bike. It is 5:35 p.m. I wonder why she is riding
her bike to the dance. Charles Pond High is about 1.5 miles away, and it is
unusually warm, but the sun is setting.  She is wearing her green hoodie that
says Cheiftans on the front and she has her backpack on. I sense something
ominous. I turn away from the window; Chad is swearing at his younger sister,
telling me he will meet me at the dance. I’m barely listening, because I’m
thinking of Leya, how she looks as she rides away into the sunset. The sky is
blazing red. I watch her until she is a speck. I hang up the phone, hurry with
my shoes, excited about the idea that I will see Leya at the dance. Chad has no
idea. No one, not even Leya, knows how much I want to dance with her. I am
going to ask her for a dance. I am euphoric. She never shows up. I think now of
the alternative endings, like the ones McDermott made us create after reading
fiction. But this was not fiction.

What if I had gone outside to say hello, shown Leya
my costume?

Leya and I go to the dance together. We stop at CVS
because Leya wants a Dr. Pepper. We see Jed Faust. He smiles, says hello, asks
where we’re going. That’s it. He doesn’t bother asking if we’d like a lift, because
Leya is with me. He never has the opportunity to trick Leya into getting into
his truck, tell her how he is going that way anyway and that she really
shouldn’t ride her bike in the dark. So, we go to the party. I ask Leya to
dance. Initially, she is surprised. But then when she sees I’m serious, she is
okay with it. We dance. I whisper something in her ear like “You’re so pretty, Leya.”
And then she hits me, says “shut up,” but moves in a bit closer, maybe even
rests her head on my shoulder. She knows now that we are more than friends. It
is the beginning of something new.

Instead, she is alone
at CVS. She sees him, maybe in line. She trusts him. She is polite and agrees
to go with him the short ride to the high school. After all, Jed was a friend;
he spent a whole summer painting the Blackwater’s house and even had dinner
with her family. We knew him. He was a teacher, married with a daughter, Liza.
He was funny and harmless (so we thought). We had lunches together. He joked
about his wife, how she was always on him to stop talking. He told us how much
he loved his daughter, Liza, showed us pictures of her first birthday party.
The pictures showed Jed holding his wife and daughter like any normal husband
and father
: “
Oh, man they are my life” Jed said to us, and we believed
him. Why wouldn’t we? You would make him ice tea or lemonade and he’d say to me
“
She’s a sweet kid, huh?”
And I’d nod in agreement. I didn’t
think anything of it. Jed Faust was no murderer. A husband and father doesn’t
rape and kill. We never suspected. That’s the danger of crossed wires. Bad
wires are often obstructed by an overload of neutral energy that masks the bad,
makes it appear good due to the energy itself. Jed was just like that—full of
intellect, too much energy. I know now not to trust excess energy because it
could be masking something sinister. I know now how easy it is to be tricked by
a sociopath with no remorse. I wish I could warn her. I wish I knew sooner. But
I know she forgives me. I can let go now. I can say it:  Goodbye, Leya Blackwater.

And lastly for my loyal
followers who are interested in updates: I’m a sophomore at Charles Pond High
and feel slightly different, but not significantly. I am still me, Lance Bryce,
Sir Lancelot wanna be. I think my confusion and anxiety is waning. No, I
haven’t seen my father, Emmet Bryce, but I’m working on another letter to him.
I thought I’d ask him if I could visit. It’s in the beginning stages (one
paragraph so far). Francis is coming home in a few weeks and will stay home for
a year. Lance and Dorrie will be married in another month on 11/11. Dorrie’s
book
The Trouble With Adley
will be published soon. It’s rumored that
Neal Lourdes moved to Miami, Florida and took Trudy with him. Jed Faust has
been arrested for the murder of Leya Blackwater. And I’m ending my blog now, on
the anniversary of Leya’s death. I’m going with my intuition.

Thank you all for
saving me, for inspiring (hope that doesn’t sound too dramatic or trite) and
especially you, Heather. You’ve taught me so much. I have found a real
relationship that I know will last a long time. Keep emailing me (for those who
are) and for those who aren’t, please do it soon. I will begin a new blog (keep
an eye out). For now, I am going to work on a science fiction book related to
(you guessed right) emf’s and neurological functioning. I have tons of research
to do, so I will be busy for the next six months.

How to end? Let’s just
say some of us know, internalize the waves intimately, and then carry it like a
burden like my father, Emmet Bryce. He tried to paint to control the excess,
but it was an overload that couldn’t be contained. Edward Leedskanlin knew it,
and he built the Coral Castle, 28 years of carving, creating. Ed never quit. Leya
would have channeled it in words and writing like Dorrie and Ben… and, I guess,
me. I know how it feels to lose someone and I’ve struggled to keep the waves in
check. I can’t build a coral castle, but I can write my blog—honor Leya Blackwater,
keep her alive in the words. We all find some way to immortalize ourselves,
others; the energy current is ever present. It’s recyclable, ebbing and flowing
like the tide. If you don’t know now, you always have the opportunity to be a
knower, to Leya yourself to the energy, just squint real hard at the water, at
dusk, and you can see the beads of light, sparkles like tiny diamonds, bits of
matter, the essence of life. I would start there. Good luck.

Your
friend,

Lance
Bryce aka Sir Lancelot

COMMENTS

2cents
what
a ride. Loved your blog, Glad things turned out the way they did.

Anonymous
great
end. Hope you start a new blog soon,

Heather
Lance
Price,
I’m so lucky to have found you!!! I love you!!! Thanks for this
blog and for trusting me.

Jabberwocky9
—u
have saved yourself and me. I can’t even explain. Thanks for your blog and your
words and OMG I will miss this blog. I PM'd you contact info. Please don’t
forget me.

Susanne
I’m
so glad we are keeping in touch. Your blog was incredible. Talk to you soon!
Tell Francis I can’t wait to see him and to call me RIGHT when he gets home.

Emmet
I
am so proud of you. I have never forgotten you or Francis. You have both been
with me, always. Please visit my site with older and more recent artwork:
www.emmetbryceartgallery.com
.
I am here and getting better and we will meet again very soon. I promise.