The Jacket

Lysander arrived at the park, naturally late for the party, toting a large sack on his back like Santa. The trek had caused his cheeks to flush and match the recurring ruby red of the graduation presents he weaved through in the parking lot, shining and new. Nothing, not even the sun held a match to the yellow shine of his eyes as they set on the dazzling picnic before him, his smile wider than the arms of the graduated guests that greeted him. Their status was shown in the bellow of their Mark Jacobs, the shine of their Ralph Lauren, the click of their Prada, the jingle of their keys. Lysander’s was shown in the fade of his Thrift Shop, the hem of his Goodwill, the worn of his Hand-Me-Down, the emptiness of his key ring. The graduation party was the only status they had in common.

After having his midsection squeezed like a lemon, the bell-less Santa pulled Dollar Store after Dollar Store from his sack, left with a withered bag and kids giggling in short lived excitement. Once the excitement had passed and most gifts discarded, he wandered off with a heart heavier than his bag had ever been, when a bird called from beneath a nearby tree.

"Lysander!" The Tweety Bird chirped from the base of the oak, her Dollar Store kept safe in the pocket of her Givenchy.

The beckoned boy peered up through his wet sand waterfall hair, smile like the sun breaking the horizon. "Hey! I've been looking everywhere for you! You said you needed me earlier?"

"Kinda. I wanted to give you something," the feathered female admitted.

He stepped back when the box was presented, like it was a rabid dog, eyes as wide as the sea when it was lowered into his hands.

"It's really big," a nervous laugh crept past his lips, the earthquake beginning to build immediately.

Tweety’s eyes hit the back of her head, stopping the nascent nervous hysterics before they were let out of their cage. “Just open it! Before you get all crazy with the laughing come on.”

“Okay,” He cackled as he slowly pealed the box apart. Surprise tightened its leash and held his breath when the two suns settled on the jacket, hands shaking like a tree in a hurricane when he pulled it out and fingered the tag. “It’s new.”

“Oh, crap, I left the tag on?”

Lysander nodded as he swallowed the baseball lodged in his throat.

“I’m sorry, I've always been bad at re-“

“It’s fine,” He croaked through the desert of his windpipe. “It’s… It’s the… I… I don’t… It’s for me?” His eyes held the sort of confusion you only saw in the face of someone walking into their own surprise party- almost happy and slightly scared.

“Of course it is.” With furrowed brows, she placed a light hand on his trembling shoulder. “Are you okay?”

The words that came from his lips were dry and cracked, bleached by the yellow suns. ”It’s the only new thing I've ever owned.”

With only a moment of hesitation, she pried the flashy jacket from his fingers and began to slowly slip the sleeves over his arms. “Well if you stand there and stare at it forever it won’t be new. Come on, put it on!”

Obeying her lighthearted command, Lysander helped her to ease his arms through the holes and lift the fabric over his quaking shoulders. His hands glided over the golden knots on front, fingered the tall standing black collar, slid down the perfectly long sleeves, examined the many metal clasps on the opening before they were smacked away for the bird to straighten and clasp it.

“Now stand up tall,” she chirped with a grin as she gazed up at the shimmering, blinding suns, beaming past his school of freckles.

Shoulders pushed back, head lifted high, and back straight as a military cemetery, he stood like the oak they were under, his pride finally shining past someone else’s thrift shop. He stayed quiet as a winter night, still as a statue, as if he was petrified that making a sound might take this from him, moving might somehow rip the jacket in two.

“…Do you like it?” Tweety asked apprehensively.

His mouth opened and closed, eventually settling on the shape of a smile before joy threw his arms around the delicate deity, squeezing a gasped giggle from her lungs.

“Thank you,” was all he could force out of his already raw throat.

“Lysander… Lysander are you crying?”

“No,” He lied as he squeezed harder, trying to hide the trickles of sunshine coming from his eyes in her collar.

“Yes you are, I can feel it!”

“No way, you’re crazy,” he chuckled nervously, catching himself before he ended up laughing on the ground.

“Oh, whatever. Are you going to wear it all day, it’s scorching out here.”

“Of course I am.” Wiping his eyes, he released her and smiled. “I’m never going to take it off.”