Fire In My Heart

============ Daniel ============ Daniel’s days start and end the same ever since he found himself in court, staring down at the short knit carpeting surrounding his shoes as if each delicate tuft of laid fibers were a person he had done wrong coming to get him. He was quiet before. Reserved, really. Just looking for a friend while not really looking to connect with them. It’s what landed him there, he told himself. It’s why his life is the same, day in and day out. It’s why he doesn’t try to reach into the lives of those that come into the shop. It’s why he makes the sale and lets them leave without their precious moments and plans for his products slipping from their minds to his.  Every day is the same.  It needs to be.  At least that’s what he tells himself as he makes it around his shop counter and through the middle aisle all the way back to the faded whitewashed door that leads into his work room. As he approaches it he wills away the memory that reminds him just why he’s there, and each time he’s incapable to stop it.  It’s not the door, per se, nor the work beyond it. It’s not the smell of hot iron tools or the searing pain he’s managed to receive there that does it. It’s the memory of being that thirteen year old punk of a kid being dragged into a candlemaker’s shop all those years ago by his Uncle Garrett. It was being given the chance to set himself straight when he didn’t believe he was so broken or out of touch with reality.  Every single time he made it to that space right there by the door his memory was jogged by the very facts that pulled him from hard time to volunteer work for a saint of a woman no longer with him.  Daniel’s breath shudders in a defeated exhale as he begins the damned ritual all over again just as he stands ready and willing to get back to work.  Instantly he’s gangly again, half the width of himself but certainly not the height. His arms are still corded though, muscular but without a shred of real meat on him. There he stands in his dress shirt, tie and slacks, hating the way that the collar nips at his neck and begging for the owner of the shop to be out to avoid this whole scenario altogether. He told himself, if they didn’t answer, they could leave. No one would be of the wiser. He could just disappear and forget following anyone else’s path. He’d forget about those shmucks that would wrestle a smile out of him then pressure him to go along with their plans. They weren’t really in control of him, not really. He could let go of the only social life he had and become a hermit…at thirteen… isn’t that what he was supposed to be doing at that age? Daniel watches himself from another space in the room as he always does, this time he’s directly behind the boy, wishing he would have made those other decisions prior to this one, especially when he hears himself whine about being there.  “Candles?” his thirteen year old self protests.    “Yes, candles!” snaps his Uncle Garrett, who had already had enough of Daniel’s crap that day.  Daniel now could agree with the man. Every other word was elongated as if the English dictionary updated each one with three or more vowels. He shudders when he hears his younger self carry on. Was it cool to behave like this? Whining? Singing out his protests like a toddler? Daniel does his best to look away, to speed this part up, but every time it lingers, making him cringe. It could be why his whole body is tense after… why these moments are always so… unforgiving.  “Whyyyuh?” Daniel’s shoulder’s slump now, making his arms loose in orangutan sort of swing.  Stop, stop, stop...stop! Daniel yells in his mind, trying to make the memory clear up, trying to correct the boy before him.  Uncle Garrett moved fluently through the tiny shop decorated with hand poured candles and some other frilly work that he now knows comes with a greater skill than Daniel thought upon inspection. His uncle seemed to be looking for something or someone and refused to do it the normal way, with his voice or asking.  “It’s community service or juvey, Daniel,” Uncle Garret warned with an edge to his voice. “Which do you want?”  Back then he was surprised with his own gear shift, the freezing cold dread ran from the top of his spine right down to the bottom, fizzling out his mind in the process. He didn’t need another argument with the man and certainly did not need to hear it from his mother, again, and so the stupid answer that he wanted to give, rested on his tongue and then dissolved into nothing. His younger self rightly swallowed his response and stayed quiet then. Contemplating. Hearing how his own mind worked was damning too, and how it could just completely shut down, unable to answer anyone, not even himself, was a supernatural power given only to teens, he was sure. These days, he wishes he still had that unique gift, but as life goes, so did his powers.  Again he wondered what his mother was getting at when she pushed to protect him. Protect him from what? He couldn’t imagine juvey being that bad to be honest. He would sit in a room with other dumbasses for hours like he does at school then sleep alone in a tiny room like he does at home. The only true change would be his attire and not getting into more trouble with his so called friends. It really didn’t sound quite as bad as his mother and uncle were going on about, except when freedom to do as he pleased came to mind. The freedom of eating what he wanted to and when came to mind, or having to get permission to make a phone call or wander outside as he pleased...those freedoms would leave him immediately, but being the teen he was he saw no immediate problems with it. He could deal. He could change with this… especially if it didn’t label him as a rat.  The guilt of what had transpired didn’t quite reach him… not when it happened at least. It wasn’t like he personally started the fires but he didn’t exactly stop them either... He was accused of being an accomplice not by someone out walking their dog but by a little camera far enough away, tucked in a porch somewhere. Daniel barely even recognized the building as their lawyer represented the evidence, but just barely saw himself dressed in all black at the very far left of the lens. He knew what he looked like, but at that angle, with the curve of the camera so close to him, it could have honestly been anyone with long hair and an extra large hoodie, ripped up jeans and his huge feet. Alright, maybe that last part was a clear indication that it couldn’t have been just anyone, but being caught on camera sucked, especially for not doing anything, he told himself then.  But Daniel now knew differently. The playback in the court showed him walking away from his friend, covering the sides of his face in disbelief. It showed him being genuinely worried, but the lawyers manipulated the jury, amping them up to believe that he, an average student with average dreams and a less than average outlook of himself was enjoying the destruction around him. That face, that image of him showed fear and not another emotion more.  Ultimately though, his uncle was right. There were no other options. And so they stood around, careful not to touch anything until the owner made her way out to greet them.