The Rarest Gem

TRISTAN

Breathe slowly and calm your mind.

You’ve got this.

I clench tightly onto my amethyst and try to envision my question as I sit in front of my altar.

Breathe.

Show me what I need to see, Spirit.

I allow for communication through my third eye.

I try to envision my place of power, my place of peace, the spot in nature that lives so vividly in my mind.

I relax into my vision.

The grass is a vibrant green, emanating the smell of a freshly cut lawn in the summer.

The colors of the flowers are so dazzling that they put my mind at ease.

The crimson red of the rose bushes offers me comfort as I channel my power.

My body relaxes further, taking in the light scent of patchouli from the incense now gently wafting throughout my room.

Ezra, my spirit animal, the loyal hyena who helps me navigate through the hard times, is sitting next to me, empowering me to take this journey.

Show me what I need to see, Spirit.

Show me...

***Bang Bang Bang ***

“One second...”

“No, open the damn door now, Tristan. I can smell that freaking devil shit I told you not to be burning in my house!”

Crap, I thought she worked late tonight.

I quickly snap out of my meditation, place my amethyst crystal on my altar, and attempt to put out my incense and candles as quickly as I can before my mother enters my room.

I’m hoping that the absence of evidence of me using some of my spiritual tools will deter her from going into an all-out rage.

***Bang Bang Bang***

“I said open the God Damn Door!”

“Sorry, coming, Mom.”

I make my way to the door and attempt to open it to a slight crack as I anxiously approach my mother, nerves rushing as my body grows tense because I can never tell just how irrationally she might act.

My attempt is quickly averted, and she lunges her hand at the wooden separation between us, flinging my door open and stumbling inside, obviously infuriated.

“W-what the hell is this, Tristan?” she asks, stumbling on her words.

She points to my small glass altar, which is adorned with stones, books, and spiritual items I’ve collected over the years.

I should have just kept it all hidden. I knew she’d react this way.

I feel my anxiety building.

I want to answer confidently and say it’s my belief system. It’s what gets me through my days, but my reply is nothing of the sort.

“I-it’s my meditation area. I just need to clear my mind sometimes, so I...”

She cuts me off, and I see her grow red—no, red is an understatement. The color she is turning is indescribable. I don’t think this shade even exists yet.

Please Spirit, if you’re there...

Before I can even finish my thought, my mother becomes angrily animated as she stomps toward my sacred space.

“Your meditation space?” She screams, her voice so shrill it sends a spiky feeling of discomfort through the many layers of my skin.

“I know what you’re thinking, Mom. It’s not evil. Many spiritualists meditate and try to get closer to nature. It’s...”

She cuts me off, looking even angrier than before, which I didn’t even think was possible.

I watch as she picks up my amethyst geode, and her lips tighten.

“You know what I think of you and your beliefs?”

“Mom, please,” I beg, hoping she’ll find a bit of kindness in her heart and leave my crystals alone. It’s the only thing I have that makes me feel okay, that makes me feel sane.

“I think it’s the work of the devil, and in this home, we do not do the devil’s work.”

I watch as she raises my crystal above her head, ensuring to lock eyes with me.

Please no...

Just like that, in a matter of seconds, I see her smash my amethyst into my glass altar, shards spreading across my wooden floor, followed by all the items I hold sacred.

I feel my eyes start to water.

“Mom...”

“For God’s sake, Tristan, if I see you shed a tear, we’re going to have bigger problems than cleaning up the remains of this Devil temple you’ve brought into my home.”

She stumbles as she makes her way to exit my room. She’s clearly intoxicated, but for her, that’s nothing other than normal.

“Y-you are a man. Act like one, get a job instead of praying to rocks. I’ve raised you better, and alone at that.”

“Have some damn r-respect.” She slurs as she makes her way out, slamming the door so hard I can feel the vibration throughout the room.

She’s gone. It’s safe now.

I let the tears escape, and as if in line, one by one, they begin rolling down my cheeks.

I try to pull myself together to salvage what I can of my magical items, and I try to do it quickly because something tells me she might be back and even angrier if she sees the mess still there, even if she’s the one who created it.

As I head across my room to grab the broom and dustbin in the corner, I can’t help but come to a halt in front of the mirror of my armoire and stare at the second mess in the room.

The very mess that is me.

I see my brown eyes glossy from crying, and my mother’s words echo in my head about how I need to be more of a man. I guess to her that means showing less emotion, but I can’t help but display how I feel, no matter how hard I try to fight it.

Sometimes I wonder if it’s her fault that I lack the all-American male persona she wishes I had.

I’ve never had a strong male figure in my life. I don’t even know who my father is, and the only time I asked, I faced her anger again, so I tucked that question unanswered in the back of my mind.

I’m trying my best to pull myself together, tussling my dark brown hair in the mirror, and hoping my skin loses its now crimson tone and returns to its natural tawny beige.

I can’t help but wonder if I look like him, my father.

Whatever the case, I refuse to see any part of my mother in this reflection. I am nothing like her, not in looks or spirit.

The only thing we share is DNA.

There is no resemblance.

Breaking my gaze away from my mirror, I grab a small chest from beneath my bed, the original home of my crystals, and start sorting through the broken glass and other items.

As I carefully pick through and box up what I can, I hear a ping from my phone lying on the bed. Even though I’m pretty sure I already know who it is, I can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief because I could use a friend right now, especially someone who gets it.

My cleaning is picking up pace, and I’m able to collect, box, and tuck away my items safely underneath my bed.

I proceed to sweep up the remnants of glass and broken items, dump them into my trash can, and hop on my bed to reach for my phone.

Once unlocked, my heart grows warm as a text notification sits at the top of my screen from my best friend, Seki, the only one who seems to get me.

Seki: Hey, Honey, how’s it going? I hope you’re like alive and stuff, seeing as how you never text me first, lol.

Me: *waves* Hey, I’m alive. Sorry, I do that to everyone. I’m a bad texter.

Seki: Yeah, bad’s not the word. You are HORRIBLE. What if I needed something like an emergency taco night or something, and my fingers were all broken, so I couldn’t text first?

Me: lol, then how would you text back?

Seki: This is hypothetical, smart ass, lol.

Seki: But how are you? I miss you.

Me: I miss you too. It’s been a long day. Mom’s on a rampage again.

Seki: When isn’t she? No offense, I know she’s your mom and everything, but you have to get out of there, Trist. I worry about you.

Me: I know, but it’s complicated, and I’m not exactly rolling in the dough here.

Seki: Yeah, me either.

Seki: We’ll figure it out though...

Seki: But I was wondering what you are doing tomorrow night? Wanna catch a movie?

Me: Honestly, I’d love to.

Seki: Perfect. I’ll look up times and get back to you because I know you won’t be the one checking in, lol.

Seki: Love you, and stay strong, sir.

Me: Love you too, see you tomorrow.

I exit the messaging screen, lock my phone, and slide it into my pocket, still overwhelmed with emotion from the earlier encounter with my mother.

She’s right. I do need to get out of here.

I do a quick scan of my room, which is now missing my spiritual corner that not long ago I was so happy to have constructed, and decide I need to get out, if even temporarily.

I grab a light jacket and throw my shoes on so I can take a quick walk, even just for a moment, to clear my thoughts and ground myself.

The last thing I need is another run-in with my mother, so instead of taking the front door like a normal human being, I decide to make my escape through the window and take the path along the side of my house.

The air outside is brisk but somehow still inviting. I just love autumn. The colors of the fallen leaves are especially intriguing to me. How can nature be so beautiful even in death?

I manage to kick a few leaves along my path as I walk with my head down through our drab little town. I can hear the kids playing games in their yards and notice a few people driving by aloofly, probably stuck in their own worries.

I don’t know where I’m going yet, but I feel a weight lifted from my shoulders just being out of my home for a little while. Though our homes are supposed to be our safe havens, I can’t help but compare mine to a prison at times, a prison with a ridiculously sinister warden who also happens to be my mother.

It’s at that moment that my path is decided. I alter my route and make my way to the park before it gets late, so I can escape into nature just a bit more.

There’s a tiny bridge in particular that I love that sits above a creek. Though the water looks dingy, the sounds are relaxing, and I’m usually able to gather my thoughts while gazing into the flow of the stream.

It’s not long before I arrive at Cobblestone Park and finally feel the relief I was searching for. You would think that a town called Angel’s Grove would be saturated with spots to relax and connect to your spirituality, but it’s quite the opposite for me. This is the only place I’ve felt connected to after many years of living here.

In all actuality, maybe it is a truly spiritual place, and it’s just my memories that destroy its reputation.

Either way, I’ve found a spot I’ve connected to, and that’s all that matters to me at this moment.

As I approach the wooden bridge, I stop dead in the center and begin to watch the water gently splash over the rocks.

The sound is so soothing, I cannot help but close my eyes and relax into a fantasy, a fantasy that makes my reality look humorous and mundane.

I start to think about what it would be like to escape and have a life that I would truly consider perfect.

What would perfect even be for me?

I open my eyes back into reality and gaze back off into the creek, wishing to the rocks and stones or anything that will hear me.

I’m wishing for a better future, wishing to be understood.

I’m secretly wishing I could meet that someone, that someone who truly gets me.

Sure, I have Seki, and she’s amazing, but I want more.

I want someone who understands me beyond her...

Then maybe...

Maybe my life would be a little bit closer to perfect.