Friday, May 21, 6:00 a.m., Jason’s Bedroom
Jason watched himself dry off in the mirror with his crimson red Stanford University towel. It was a gift from his father when he was awarded a full scholarship. They celebrated the advancement of the Plan with his father’s friends, eight hundred bucks worth of filet mignon and two strippers. They even threw him into the pool, clothes and all. Then he and his father smoked stogies late into the night.
Jason styled his brown hair with pomade, pulled tan shorts from the dresser, and a green Polo from the closet. A box he had looked at a thousand times sat on the top shelf. He took it down.
The green shoebox was tattered by usage and marred by stickers. A Boy Scouts sticker hung onto the lid for dear life. Lined up inside the box were his badges, his compass, his magnifying glass, and his boxcar racer. Along the bottom of the box, his childhood pride and joy: a Bowie knife, also a gift from his father.
Jason touched the edge: sharp as ever. While in Boy Scouts, he, Karl, and Devon would go into the “desert” to hack through bushes, cut open cactus, and dissect lizards with the knife. The steel blade held many memories.
He replaced the lid and slid the box back on the shelf.