OPH nano: flight

OPH nano: flight

In Nathan’s room were two shoe boxes that previously housed a pair of tennis sneakers and church shoes, respectively. He no longer took part in either activity, but at least the boxes were still useful for holding his paper cranes, each one with a wing span that was slightly larger than a quarter. They were numbered as well on the left flap with a red pen and small print, as though the marks were open paper cuts on the white folds.

One of the boxes was already full with a thousand cranes, enough to get a wish, if the folklore was telling the truth. Nathan had first heard of the myth from reading a children’s book the previous year, on his fifteenth birthday. The very limited celebration included reading the pages after eating with his friends at the coffee shop and becoming acquainted with the protagonist, Sadako, who folded cranes in hopes to become free of her radiation sickness from the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. She haunted his dreams for months after, in hospital gowns and airy whispers, telling him that he would be more than well.

The second box contained birds from 1001 to 1020, which he intended to fill further at 9:30 PM, after he finished his homework. He would fold origami until 9:50, spend some time either reading or writing disjointed short stories, and then sleep at around 10:30. For the most part the schedule went unchanged unless schoolwork was excessive, and the early bedtime was self-enforced even on weekends unless there was something of great interest or urgency to do, such as the meteor shower that occurred in October.

Tonight, however, was boring, and he had completed his work early, including the six page literature essay that was not due until the following week. He knew most of his subjects by heart already, and it was not even eight yet.

His cell phone rang. Ah, Jordan.

“Hey, what’s up?”

A high, childish voice replied. Nathan had grown accustomed to the sound, which at first to him did not fit her body: large boned, broad shouldered, and powerful. He pictured her now, the voice, albeit high, reverberating like a booming noise that shook down buildings.

“The sky is up. My brother went out to buy weed, want to come over and help me with English? I bet you’re finished already.”

“Sure. And weed? That’s so mellow. I imagined he’d do something crazier.”

“Calms him down, I guess- who knows.”

“Alright, see you in a few.”

Nathan stuffed the phone in his pocket, took his laptop bag and school papers, and walked to Jordan’s house, which was two blocks away, the suburb in sleepy silence. That was something to be grateful for- he doubted he could ever live in the city. There were so many lights that one couldn’t even see night, and it was far too loud. And his evening walks would be out of the question.

Jordan’s mother greeted him with a smile, a hefty woman with a thick Jamaican accent and a warm voice.
“Good evening, Nathan, Jordan’s in the kitchen.”

“Thank you.”

The smile grew larger, and Nathan took note of this as he went over to the room and took a seat next to his friend.

After she left, he lowered his voice to a whisper.

“Um, is she… making assumptions of anything?”

“…Like?”

“Are we going out or something like that.”

She blurted out a cackle. Nathan frowned.

“Come on! I know I look like a nerdy loser next to you but it’s not that bad, right?”

“Shut it Nathan, you’re better than that. And no, she thinks you’re gay. She’s actually glad because she thinks I’m happier now and that you made me happy, and plus you’ll never get me pregnant.”

“That’s comforting. I guess.”

Pause.

“Jordan, are you happier, though?”

More of a pause.

“Everyone you come across who gets to know you really well think you’re some kind of patron saint of the downtrodden. And I thought you were just some run of the mill kid before we met at the art club. You know what though? They’re absolutely right.”

He laughed nervously. “Patron saint, huh.”

“Papa Teresa.”

They both laughed at that one.

“We should get to your homework.”

“Not yet. Listen to me Nathan.”

“Okay…”

“Don’t ever think you’re dirt.”

“I don’t.”

“I think there’s something wrong with you though. You never complain about anything and I wonder why sometimes.”

“I have nothing to complain about.”

Jordan’s face looked distant and searching.

“Sorry. That was rude of me.”

“It’s ok.”

He took out the required reading and notes.

“We should really get to this before nine.”

“Yep.”

Nathan was very lucky. That's what he told himself every night. Nathan had Jordan. Nathan had his mother. Nathan had Christopher and Elise. Nathan had Joseph. Nathan had a long list of names of people who gave a shit about him. He had nothing to be sad about, and the one thing that he was sad about was already in jail.

But was eligible for parole.

"Awesome, done before 9 too. Time to watch my show." Jordan laughed, the paper saved and printed, and Nathan nodded with a small smile.

"You wanna stay a little longer, Nathan? My mom wants to feed you. She says you're as skinny as a pole."

"No, I have to leave. Thank you for the offer though."

"Aww... alright."

They exchanged goodbyes, and Nathan walked out into the slightly chilly air, tugging at his jacket. His father should come home soon. It had been a year.

"...I hate him."