Awful, Ohio Page 2

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  The sun had spotted the Slushy house that morning, which rested on the environs of Awful, Ohio. It was pale and banana yellow, lacking the original spirit and luster that had ordinarily been there when the first coats of paint were applied. It was covered in age, decorated with faded shutters, shingles, and siding, all worn down, all in eager need of repair. But the occupants were preoccupied with other hindrances of depression.

  Between the window blind and the molding of the window inside of Troy’s and Lacy’s bedroom, there was a sliver of space that morning which the light of the sun took shape in, squeezing through, and laying across Troy’s closed eyes like a blindfold. That space was there every morning. And every morning the sun would enter like a cat burglar, finding Troy and Lacy sleeping peacefully. Crust was neatly rolled up into little balls, tucked away into the corners of Troy’s eyes. Those balls of crust were the collected shit of Awful, Ohio that Troy’s closed eyes were able to keep from contaminating his mind, robbing him of his dreams.

  The blindfold beam was bright and menacing, too much for thin eyelids to hold off. Troy’s eyes reacted with gentle floods of tears, flowing through the crevices of every crafted wrinkle in Troy’s face. The start of a new day was worth cringing for. His eyes squinted open, breaking the dam, as his irises were penetrated with every sharp ray of invasive light that sifted poison through his cones and rods, tunneling through his optic nerve, implanting images of awakening torture into his mind. At that very moment is when Troy gets raped of his dreams every morning, Monday through Friday, because he has to wake up and go to his life-decimating job.

  “Lacy?” Troy was trying to see if Lacy was awake. She normally woke when Troy woke. Troy had been aware of the Awful, Ohio shackles for some time now, and knew that something had to be done to break free from the force. His thoughts were clear during rest that night, and an epiphany overcame him. He was eager to relay his enlightenment to Lacy, thinking that this would be the beginning of their freedom.

  “Yes, Troy?” said Lacy. She wasn’t fully awake, but awake enough to respond to Troy.

  “Well, you know how we’ve been miserable with the way things have been going lately?”

  Lacy didn’t want to admit that she was miserable. But as soon as the earth became lit, it exposed everything that Lacy had, which was nothing. She would glance around the room every morning and see the clothes or crafts or cosmetics that her husband’s paychecks had been bartered for. And it all sat there without any ability to inject a sliver of happiness that she had been desiring, back into her existence. She would fall into depression. Every little bit of purchased character that their home had was nothing more than a terrible reminder of the meaningless life that she was living. She would cry every morning as soon as Troy’s legs crawled from their home and into their blue hatchback, driving back into Awful, Ohio for work, leaving her there to be alone with her trash. She didn’t respond to Troy’s question.

  “It’s because we’re victims,” Troy continued, without the signal of Lacy’s acknowledgment. “We are victims to the menace that forces us to live accordingly to the way that the ultimate, divine menace thinks our lives should be dictated. We deserve justice from this culprit.”

  Troy spoke with a fluffy force. He didn’t want to be too intimidating, but he did want to be taken seriously. Troy’s rants are usually about his job, or the car, or wages with work, something boring that Lacy was incapable of relating to, making it hard for her to pay attention. But Troy was right. She did feel like a victim. She felt like she was lied to her entire life, as those moments of happiness that were supposed to happen never showed up. And Lacy kept listening.

  Troy paused after his statement. He was fearful that he would be alone, and looked towards Lacy, hoping that her reaction wouldn’t be alienating. Her eyes were open, glaring at the ceiling, as she silently continued resting on her back. Her hopes for salvation voided her routine disinterest. Troy fearlessly continued.

  “Lacy, why is it that we have to live like this. All we want is to live simply, to simply live! All of this crap that we purchase is nothing that makes us happy. All of this money I earn isn’t anything that puts a smile on my face. I can’t stand having to wake up this early, trudge to work, and leave you here by yourself. I want to spend my days with you, laying on a beach, resting near savannahs, staring at the stars, driving endlessly into new locations, towards cultures that we can observe and witness the beauty that they behold.”

  Troy’s moments of drama are rare and never well expressed when they do show up. But Lacy was enjoying what she was listening to. The amassing disgruntled diatribe evoked from Troy was soothing, as they would never willingly speak of their disgust of their situation, fearful of exposing the truth. But Troy’s epiphany had begun to put a smile on her face, as she had finally started to feel the happiness that she knew she was seeking. She was anticipating that Troy was going to suggest moving from this work-horse area, and move to an area that possessions and bank accounts weren’t the only things on everyone’s mind. But Troy was implying something else for him and Lacy to engage in.

  “Lacy, we are not victims of greed, or Awful, Ohio, or even America. They too are all victims of the culprit who forces us, people with awareness and existence through dull and monotonous suffering. Every being is only trying to get by the best way it knows how. The culprit isn’t shy; it shines its big, bright, illuminating face every day, and disguises its maliciousness with deceiving rays of hope! It mocks and torments all of us, and puts it under the spotlight for everyone else to see! The world’s enemy is the sun!”

  Lacy turned her head towards Troy. She had to stare at the figure that had made that statement. She was wondering if she should start fearing that Troy’s sanity had vacated his body. She thought that the years of work had begun to get to him, and that maybe craziness was all that he had left. She began to feel nervous that she was going to be permanently alone, imagining living by herself, having to work long hours just to support the house, and the bills that the mental hospital would mail to her on a monthly basis to rehab her husband. She was thinking of living with depression or medication or both. Her worries began to inflate. She started to lose hope.

  “Think about it, Lacy. The sun rotates every day, driving our dream-filled nights into disheartening days, gutting the innards of our personal dreams and desires,” Troy continued, reinforcing his theory. “It dissipates them into nothing but dust, Lacy, dust! And we just sit here, day to day working our lives into permanent abeyance, allowing it to happen. Lacy, we need to discover happiness, we need to find it, and hold on to it as tight as we can, because we have wasted so much of our time into making other things happy. We need to find a way to live in our dreams, and surround ourselves with darkness so that our souls will no longer be lost into bright and blinding oblivion! The light that exposes everything before us isn’t as good as advertised. The source needs to be obliterated. If we didn’t have the sun, then we’d never have to wake up to the sun and its light forcing itself upon our eyes and minds, revealing this Awful life that we are forced to live in. The answer is obvious, Lacy, if we wish to regain the happiness that we both know that we want. We need to destroy the sun so that we can save our selves!”

  Lacy kept listening to Troy. Her eyes studied the deep contours that were printed through his face. His face was catatonic, cemented with seriousness like a general seeking war. She listened beyond the words she was hearing, deconstructing the presupposed meanings that she had inaccurately injected into those words. Lacy wasn’t listening to insane ideas or thoughts. And she wasn’t losing hope. All she could hear was passion, care, and love. Troy wanted to save the both of them from the lives that they both had grown to despise. Lacy reexamined Troy’s intentions and found them to be heroic and noble. Troy’s passion became her enlightenment.

  She felt a feeling that hadn’t been present in her mind and body since she had married Troy. Troy’s passion had finally resurrected a feeling of hope
, salvation, and contentment, and Lacy loved every sense of it. These were the feelings that she wanted to sustain, and these were the feelings that she wanted to commit her life to once again, regardless of the intentions behind them. She supported and encouraged Troy with every idea that was exhumed from his body, as she rolled closer to Troy’s stoic body, smiling, and whispering into his cold ear, “let’s blow it up.”

  Troy stared back at Lacy, reading deeply into her eyes. The cemented contours of his face shattered, smiling for the support that Lacy had to offer. He progressed towards her, kissing her feverishly. The passion for one another was exchanged back and forth that morning, as they laid there in bed, making love to one another for the first time in many orbits.

  Chapter 2

  Perseverance is much more Eminent in accomplishing a Goal than feasibility.