Jupiter Jones
by Katherine J. Lee
He was straddling a grimacing
gargoyle, and nearly fell off, screaming. His classmates were waiting
below, holding a collective breath in anticipation of the jump, the
impact. He wished they would jump off a cliff. Just looking for a cheap
show, a sensational headline. The stupid shits. He leaned down and
threw his shoes at them. The crowd parted. He cursed.
“My parents don’t hate me, you fucking
losers!”
Directly after his outburst, he
remembered that they did, and jumped.
* * * * *
Jupiter Jones had been seven when he
underwent his transformation. Started out sweet, but don’t they all?
Just some neighborhood kid who had a choice between being a cowboy or an
astronaut. He’d opted for astronaut. A marker’s magic turned a cardboard
box into a rocket. Buckled in his dog, Europa, and launched them both
off his roof into the lower stratosphere.
* * * * *
The crowd began to deblur, assuming
the sharp outlines of persons, and he could see them all, stupid,
slack-jawed. The thud was surprisingly sudden. After toppling such short
distance from his ledge, it became all too clear that the spectators
would be disappointed by such poor sport.
* * * * *
It was beautiful, in space. The sun
brighter, earth farther away. The people you loved were smaller, like
ants. Everything was beautiful, and the sun--
he closed his eyes, its image seared into his retina, a picture
eternally present on the backs of his eyelids. The landing was bumpy,
but that was all he could see—isn’t it beautiful, Europa? -- the
sun.
* * * * *
He didn’t stick around. Not for the
disbelief, not for the jeers, not for laughter. He stood, abruptly,
taking off, bare feet on stone with every step. That was the first time.
* * * * *
Europa didn’t say anything, and
neither did Great-Aunt Thelma. She had been hanging laundry on the line
moments earlier, but now lay crumpled on the ground, struck down by a
satellite ejected from the mother ship. Jupiter’s parents found him ten
yards away, clutching his finger. It was a beautiful pain, a throbbing.
Eyes still clenched shut. Smiling.
* * * * *
Every couple of weeks, he’d do it.
Loved it. The giddy, reckless rush. Gravity pulling him back. Small
jumps, sometimes, when no one was looking, and he’d get mouthfuls of
dirt, searching for the painless fall. The trick was to roll, just
relax. He’d sit in trees, waiting for the hapless traveler to come by,
and fall, dramatically limp. He loved the screams. And then, when they
started expecting it — he loved that, too.
* * * * *
Great-Aunt Thelma never got back up,
Europa never got back up, and when Jupiter got back up, his parents made
him open his eyes, and like that, the sun went away. Boy, were they mad,
and what had he been thinking, anyway, taking a dog on a trip like that?
Everyone knew space travel was dangerous. He wasn’t going to the moon
for sure, and certainly not the hospital. His finger would be crooked,
for all they cared, let that be a lesson to you all.
* * * * *
“Jupiter Jones, Kamikaze
Extraordinaire.”
“Geronimo Jones.”
“Jumping Jack.”
* * * * *
For five years, they told him the
state of his soul was beyond hope. They told him he was a murderer.
They told him they asked God to forgive them for having brought such a
creature into the world – God forgive them, breakfast lunch and
dinner. They told him they were sending him away to boarding school,
they didn’t want to look at his scheming face.
He
told them he
was glad.
They told him children should be
seen and not heard, and shipped him off to
Glenbrook Academy.
* * * * *
On Terrence Grey’s first day at
Glenbrook Academy,
Jupiter Jones fell from the sky. It was shocking, really. A
boy. Fell from the sky—must’ve flown too close to the sun. There was
a sickening thud as he flew too close into the ground. And no one even
noticed, no one paused. Terrence touched the arm of the guy giving
him the walking tour. “Hey, um-- is that kid okay?”
What
kid--oh. Jupiter? Oh, yeah, he’s fearless. He likes the stares. Quite
the sensation, isn’t he?”
“I guess."
* * * * *
The school was okay as far as
boarding schools go. It was Gothic-style. Flying buttresses and
gargoyles galore. It was rather squat, though. A two-storied stumpy
tribute to the lofty Gothic ideal. Not high enough to kill yourself,
definitely.
* * * * *
Jupiter looked up from writing,
sized up the little punk. Rumors had spread that the newbie had
transferred from the psychiatric wing at the hospital-- depression.
Attempted suicide.
“What do you see when you jump?”
Jupiter let the question stagnate
before answering-- he had an image to maintain. Distant. Aloof. “I’ve
seen death.”
A snort. “So’ve I. It’s nothing.”
“No. It’s something, all right. It’s
something and I’ve seen it.”
Snort. “What,” the newbie asked,
arms outflung, “is death?”
Jupiter went back to writing. There
was no use trying to tell these guys, all right. Stupid. Confident
little truth-suckers.
“What are you writing?”
“A suicide note.” Gravely.
The newbie was quiet. “O.D.’d on
Tylenol once.”
Half-hearted suicide. Pah. “How’d
that go?”
“Doesn’t work. Don’t believe what
they tell you,” he said. “It just poisons your liver.”
“It’s a slow death.”
“I know,” he said, looking sideways
at Jupiter. “What’s the quickest way to go?”
Jupiter tried to concentrate on his
note. Would this kid ever shut up? He looked up, glowered. “Listen —
death. It’s nothing. Just a big light. A big flicking light.”
“A light.”
“Yeah.” He crossed his t’s with a
flourish. “Big fucking deal. It’s overblown.”
* * * * *
They smoked in the bathroom together
with the windows open and the fan on. They did this often.
“I want to try jumping.”
“What?”
“I want to jump. See death.”
“What?”
“It’ll be good for me. I don’t want
to live a half-life. I need to know whether life is worth anything.”
Jupiter said nothing.
“Stop acting like a scorned lover.”
Terrence laughed. “Goodness. 'Hell hath no fury...
“Why’d you do it?”
“What?”
“The Tylenol.”
Terrence pulled a cigarette out of
the pack and lit it. “I don’t know. I didn’t like the uncertainty —
what happens when we die? Is life worth living? Why are we here? The
ever-pressing question of human existence, you know? And I got it all
the time from my folks. ‘What are you going to do with your life?’
‘Are you just going to be a bum and do nothing?’ I don’t know. Would
anything I did be worth anything? And so what if it did? We’re all
going to die anyway.”
“Well that’s an intellectual
breakthrough on your part.” Jupiter exhaled, watching the smoke make
its escape. “Listen, it kind of jades you, buddy. You know what
death’s like, already, so you’re prepared.”
“I need that.”
Jupiter said nothing.
* * * * *
They stood on the roof,
battle-scarred soldiers watching over a sleeping stone giant. The day
was overcast, stormy — the atmosphere perfect for the occasion.
“I’m ready.”
“Listen, the trick is in rolling.
Don’t panic.”
“I know.”
“I’m not going to be a part of this.
I’m not watching.”
“Fine.”
Jupiter glanced at Terrence’s
smiling face, then turned and started walking down the stairs but
stopped, suddenly. He watched, hidden from Terrence’s view.
* * * * *
Terrence Grey sat on the wall.
Terrence Grey had a great fall. All the King’s horses and all the
King’s men couldn’t put Terrence together again.
* * * * *
“I see it, Jupiter – I see it! It’s
beautiful.” Wildly.
Jupiter couldn’t make out his face.
Terrence was backlit by headlights, and the brights were blinding.
“You don’t, Grey. It’s just headlights. The ambulance is here,
buddy, you’re gonna be okay.”
They loaded him onto the ambulance.
Jupiter followed.
“It’s beautiful. Jesus, it’s a big
fucking deal.” Terrence laughed.
Jupiter said nothing.