The Beautiful Unknown

content-warnings: mental health, violence

Today was a normal Wednesday for Jeremy. Until he found himself pinned to the ground, a police officer swearing above him. Never in his life did he think he'd get arrested for anything. Despite his cries and pleading, he’s handcuffed. The cold metal pinches and squeezes tightly on his wrists. How did a normal day become so horrible?

The bright afternoon sun spilled into his apartment as he slept. His alarm blared in his ear and made him irritable when he finally opened his eyes, squinting. One hot shower later, he threw on random clothes, unsure of their cleanliness. It was a pair of jeans and a white tee. He wore mismatched socks, one blue and the other black. He avoided his reflection in the bathroom mirror like it was a ghost.

He made himself his usual omelet with spinach and egg whites, ate a few bites over the counter, and tossed the rest. His alarm went off again much to his dismay, so he smashed his palm over his phone and left the apartment in a flurry. The air was crisp, the grass dewy after this morning’s thunderstorm. He savored the petrichor as he padded down the sidewalk, the light breeze a comfort. The initial agitation of waking up faded with each step.

After his walk, he returned home to retrieve his phone before catching the bus to work. He didn't drive today because he lost his wallet last night. He made a mental note to look under all his furniture on his next day off.

He thanked the driver as he stepped off the bus. Keeping his hands in his pockets and his gaze downcast, he walked the rest of the way to Nicky’s. The restaurant is on a side street in the downtown area, surrounded by the quiet of residential buildings. Hence, he had to walk a few minutes after the stop to finish the commute.

His shift started pretty slowly. While the chefs buzzed around the kitchen, Jeremy prepped the register. Soon enough, the dinner rush was in full swing. With clanging pots, sizzling beef, and chefs swearing behind him, Jeremy lost himself to the rhythm of the restaurant. He set his brain and body on autopilot as he took orders and payment from the bustle of hungry people before him. Almost everyone was a regular. When a newcomer with nervous eyes approached him, a teenage part-timer took over, so he could take a break.

Two bites into his burrito, Alyssa, a sous chef he had grown to like, plopped herself down next to him. They sat on the picnic table behind the restaurant. She peered over at the receipt he was drawing on. It was nothing, a mindless doodle to dampen his dark thoughts.

“Wow, Jerm! You never told me you were an artist.” She beamed at him, her brown-gold eyes swimming with innocent joy. Her thick hair was impossibly pulled into a silk hair tie, with wisps of tiny black curls at the ends. He wondered, not for the first time, how someone as beautiful as her could enjoy talking to a guy like him.

“I’m not. I just like to draw sometimes.” That was a lie. He liked to draw at every opportunity afforded to him. The process soothed him.

“Please, you’re so cool.” She pulled the pen off her apron and quickly doodled a little blue smiley face in the corner. He inhaled her scent of lavender perfume and the aroma from the kitchen that clung to her. She leaned close to him, the caramel skin of her arm a hairsbreadth away from his shirtsleeve. He would’ve offered her the whole receipt if she had asked.

“That’s cute, thanks. I’ll treasure this for the rest of my life, I swear.” She snorted a laugh in reply.

“You mind?” Alyssa asked, revealing a cigarette from behind her ear.

When he said he didn't, she pressed it between her lips as she burned the end. After a long drag, she exhaled. The cloud of smoke wafted in the breeze and disappeared. They sat in a comfortable silence for the rest of his half-hour break. The scratch of his pen on paper and the tapping of her foot created a rhythm in tune with the light wind. His heart pounded in his ears from her closeness.

He smiled to himself, thankful to be on a break at the same time as her.

Jeremy had always been an introvert. Conversations came to him for certain death. No good with words or expressing himself to others. Navigating conversations with strangers was so tiring, he usually kept quiet.

But when he met Alyssa, he felt a bit lighter with her around. When she smiled at him, a ball of warmth burst inside him. He couldn’t help returning a real smile to her, one with teeth and all. It changed his face completely. Before he met her, he was always told he looked rude and miserable despite having nothing on his mind. Sometimes he was happy on the inside before a stranger would tell him to cheer up. It was usually an older man with hair sprouting out of his ears. That was a surefire way to make his frown deeper.

Alyssa had a talent for making him laugh in a way that he never knew he could. If she weren’t dating the dishwasher, Rodney, he liked to think he would ask her out on a proper date. Jeremy was very intimidated by Rodney. He looked like he chewed tobacco and played with rifles in his free time. Her boyfriend was a stark contrast to her.

He begrudgingly returned to the register. His face blushed as a tingle of joy swirled in his stomach. The rest of the shift went by in a blur. Folded carefully in his pocket was the receipt.

After closing, Alyssa walked off with her boyfriend down the sidewalk to their car and disappeared into the night. All his coworkers went home as well, and he decided to wait for the rideshare surge prices to drop to book a ride. The bus stopped running an hour before. He sat on the sidewalk with his back leaning against the building and his head facing the distant stars above. Legs outstretched, a faint buzz of late-night traffic soothing his mind. He didn’t mind waiting. The evenings were the perfect temperature this time of year, a dichotomy of hot days and cool nights. His hood was over his head, and he was comfortable, content with his boring day being over.

When he checked ride prices about twenty minutes later, they were finally down to a reasonable number. Right as he pressed confirm on his phone, the bright headlights of a vehicle blinded him suddenly.

“Hey.” A police officer stepped out of the vehicle and approached Jeremy, towering over him as he sat in disbelief. “What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?”

“I’m waiting for a ride. I work here.” Jeremy pointed behind himself with a thumb over his shoulder.

“Show me your I.D.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t have it on me.” He started internally swearing at himself for losing his wallet and being afraid to ask for a ride home. He didn’t tell anyone about his commute because he didn’t want them to offer help. A kick in the head sounded more appealing than depending on another person.

“Well, we got a call about a suspicious man lurking about the street.”

“Sir, I work here. I– I didn’t do anything. I’m just waiting for a ride.” Jeremy became aware of the hair resting on the back of his neck, and his brain was going into overdrive. He stopped thinking completely. If the officer could tune into his brain, he would hear static. His heartbeat was thick in his throat.

“I believe you, but I was still called out here to investigate a crime.”

“I didn’t break any laws.” His phone lit up in his hand, a notification telling him his ride was approaching. “My ride is almost here. I have to go.”

As Jeremy made to stand, the officer tensed and reached for the weapon at his side.

“Stay down!” He pulled out a taser and pointed it at Jeremy. He pressed his lips against the radio on his shoulder and said, “I got one resisting. Requesting backup.”

Jeremy’s butt hit the concrete so hard in response that he felt a throbbing sensation up his spine. What did he do? Was he unaware of some law prohibiting him from sitting here? Still squinting from the patrol car’s lights on his eyes, another set of headlights came into view. A blue-lit sign was stuck to the windshield. RideShare, it read. His ride was here, but he didn’t know what to do or say. All he could muster with his quivering voice was, “That’s… my ride is here.”

“I’m your ride now,” the officer said. He sidestepped to the new vehicle, keeping his weapon pointed at Jeremy. He called to the driver, who rolled his window halfway down, “He’s not— he’s getting a ride with me now. Go home. Take another ride request. I don’t care. He’s under arrest.”

The driver said something Jeremy couldn’t quite understand before backing up and driving off into the distance. He didn’t even allow himself to grieve over the lost funds as the car turned onto another street and disappeared.

“I didn’t do anything,” he pleaded. A burning sensation scratched at his eyes as the tears started to flow down his cheeks. His hands hovered in front of him, not daring to swipe at the wetness on his face. “I’m just sitting here. I work here.”

“You’re being detained. Put your hands together. Now.” Jeremy obeyed. A sick part of him wanted to exhale a laugh in utter disbelief. He didn’t know what he did to be treated like this. He wished he hadn’t lost his wallet. Although he knew it didn’t matter. Judging by the look in this guy’s eyes, he was praying for anyone to test him, like a predator with its eyes hovering above water, waiting for prey to jump in.

The officer yanked on Jeremy’s connected wrists and shoved him to the ground. Jeremy was too stunned to react before the man flipped him onto his back, and a fist made contact with his face.

Crack.

It only took one hit to snap his jawbone, the pain so severe it reverberated down his spine, his neck lax. It took one hit to break him, yet the hits didn’t stop coming. All he knew in that moment was the tingling sensation in his face, the numbness crawling through it, the metallic tang of blood on his tongue.

The officer flipped him onto his stomach, pulling Jeremy’s limp arms behind him. He continued crying and pleading, his throat raw.

Somehow, Jeremy felt his life split into two parts. There’s the before: years of loneliness weighing on him, his sadness making him incapable of having aspirations. His father on his deathbed, and the grief that followed. Alyssa leaning against his side, watching him draw. He’s smiling next to her. His mother pats his head as a child. The highlights of his twenty-four years flash behind his tears.

There’s all that, and then there’s the after happening right now.

“Stop,” he cries breathlessly, “please!”

The officer handcuffs Jeremy so tightly, it hurts. He can’t handle this. As he lies there, a swollen cheek planted on the sidewalk, another vehicle arrives. His vision is blurry as he’s pulled to stand. A woman is speaking behind him. They guide Jeremy toward an open backseat. He sits and continues sniffling, words lost on him, as the woman buckles him in. He chokes on his breath.

He can’t hear anything, save for the ringing in his ears. He’s completely rattled, shattered. Honestly, he wants to lie back down on the sidewalk and die to escape the pain. What’s the point in holding on? He doesn’t deserve to live. Nobody loves Jeremy. He’s a disappointment and a waste of space.

His vision darkens, and his head falls to meet his chest.

He wakes up early the next morning… With a groan, he squints at the bright, fluorescent light buzzing above him. His head is covered in bandages, a splint covering the length of his nose. His wrists are bandaged and resting by his sides, unrestrained. His mom’s calling for a nurse. The pain of being alive comes rushing back alongside his memory of the attack. Although the physical pain has subsided.

“Mom…” he croaks.

“Yes. I’m here. Try not to talk too much, okay?”

He closes his eyes again but remains awake. A nurse arrives with a clipboard in his manicured hands. He tells them the situation. Minor jaw fracture on his left, concussion, nasal fracture, and swelling in his wrists. As well as some minor cuts and bruising on his arms and face from the concrete. Jeremy swallows the dark laugh threatening to bubble out of him and doesn’t say, “That’s it?” The hospital will keep him until Sunday for monitoring, then he can be discharged. He reassures there’s no need for surgery.

His mom squeezes Jeremy’s hand and drops her forehead to his fingers, her hair creating a dark curtain over her face. She’s crying, thanking the heavens silently. He doesn’t understand why she’s here. He’s a disappointment, a depressed loner, and a failure. She never cried for him, so why now?

What Jeremy doesn’t know about his mother is that she, too, struggles with her mental health. The death of her husband and her lack of self-esteem manifested in her withdrawing into herself. She became a turtle, hiding all her emotions behind the shell. What she didn’t realize is how much it affected her only child, her son. Instead of growing closer in their grief, they drifted apart. Both of them spiraled alone. And now, after almost losing him, she wants to try reconnecting. As the tears roll down, she places a kiss on his palm.

“I’m here now, Jeremy.” His heart swells. She’s different from before, he thinks. He can’t recall ever seeing her so unraveled.

“Hey, Mrs. Thompson.” Alyssa appears in the doorway with a bundle of flowers in her arms. “How is he?”

His mother repeats the nurse’s words to her.

“I’m so sorry, Jerm. I wish I were there last night. I came as soon as I could. After I got these.” Alyssa whispers as she settles into the seat next to his mom.

He tries to say her name, but it gets caught in his throat. They sit together, his mom and Alyssa, in silence for a while. Neither brings attention to the tears silently escaping down his face.

His coworkers flow in and out of his room through the next few days, wishing him well. All except Alyssa's boyfriend, though Jeremy didn’t notice his absence. They bring him flowers and soft homemade food to eat. They say the hospital food sucks, and it does. Nicky himself brings in a full tray of homemade tofu tiramisu, his favorite.

By Sunday afternoon, he feels less alone. All that time stewing in bed made him contemplate everything. The life that flashed in his mind during the incident made him wonder what his future could be like. As much as he wanted to give up, he couldn’t. Not when the whole restaurant and his mother surrounded him in that hospital room. Never in his life had he ever felt so seen, so cared for. His heart danced.

Despite his best efforts to avoid help from others in the past, he allows Alyssa and his mother to help him fundraise for the steep medical bills. With them by his side, he pursues legal action against the police department. The whole process intimidates him, makes his nerves race. He powers through, not just for himself, but for the community that surrounds him. He’s never noticed how people smiled at him before, how they took care of him in small ways. It’s like the incident lifted the veil over him.

The media scoops up the story after Nicky releases the security footage to them with Alyssa’s help. His community grows stronger and wider. He can’t bring himself to watch the tape. He might never do so.

None of it is easy. The path of healing is a long, winding journey. He knows he will never be the same. When the lawsuit finishes one year later, he tries to move on.

And for the first time, Jeremy feels a dream grow from within this new version of him. It sprouts like wildflowers, defiant and eager to reach for the sky above. The distant waters of foreign lands call to him, and he desperately longs to answer. Without hesitation, he sells almost everything he owns over a few weeks and donates the rest. He spins a digital globe on his phone and lands his finger on a random country. There, he smiles at the screen. He books a one-way ticket as the butterflies swirl around his stomach.

Three days after buying his ticket, he stands outside the airport. He's with his mother and now best friend, Alyssa.

“I love you,” he says into his mother’s ear. He wraps his arms around her. She cries into his chest, then pulls away to return the endearment.

He turns to Alyssa. She’s bouncing on her toes, eager for a hug. He pulls her into him, the crown of her head meeting his chin as they embrace.

“I’m so happy for you, Jerm,” she whispers, “you have to send me pictures. You bring your sketchbook?”

“Of course.”

“Send pics of the drawings too, then.”

He hums in reply.

With nothing but a backpack slung over his shoulders and an unfilled passport in his hand, he turns one last time to wave them goodbye. Then he walks off, excited and sure, towards the beautiful unknown.