The Sun

It was the tenth day of the heatwave.

    I was laying on our makeshift couch, shaded by the gazebo. The sun shined as hot and golden as molten honey. My skin slick with sweat, dirt on my face, the dried air doing nothing to soothe the heat. It felt like we were inserted into an oven, the air not quite a different temperature than our bodies, except hotter. 

    I flipped over onto my stomach, dragging my hands along the patio carpet. Somehow everything became simultaneously boring and fascinating during a heatwave. Couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, but the mild trussle of the branches was enough to rouse my attention. Our home didn’t have the coveted air conditioning and so rather than burn alive in my room, I opted to burn alive outside. 

    My older cousin entered, holding two sopping cups of what looked like lemon juice.

    “Keep your head up, king,” he started, handing me a glass, “your crown is falling.”

I took a sip from my position on the couch and grimaced. It wasn’t even lemonade, it was literally lemon juice.

”What is this? Where did you get this and why did you give it to me?” I took another sip anyway for good measure. It was cold, and my parched throat needed attention.

”Mary-Ann squeezed it using her fancy automated juicer. Good right? Refreshing?”

“It’s sour.”

“Well yeah,” he sat down next to me, kicking my legs out of the way, “it’s made of lemons.”

“What do you want?” I pressed my face into the couch, I did not have the energy to raise my head.

“You seemed like you could use some company.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’ve been out here for a while now.”

“Where else am I supposed to go?”

“Well, there are pools open… maybe take a nice cold shower? Come and hang with me and Mary?”

I didn’t feel like it, didn’t have the strength to face other people. I felt like my literal soul was sucked out from within me. If I died right here and now I probably wouldn’t have even noticed. When I moved it was like moving through boiling water, as a cooked al dente noodle.

I know I usually don’t like the heat, I always felt like it affected me more than other people. What I didn’t realize was how bad it was getting, day to day, year to year. Worse and worse, right under all of our noses. I couldn’t help but blame global warming and the world’s utter negligence towards the planet. And yet the thought still wouldn’t rouse me. Not to action, not to protest, not even a letter to my representative. I couldn’t move.

The thought saddened me and I turned my head inward.

“Thanks but no thanks. Leave me alone to die.”

“Suit yourself,” my cousin stood and left, his voice gave no indication of his feelings about the exchange. I assumed he didn’t care, kind of like how no one cares. About me… or well, the planet.

Again, my thoughts spiraled, the pounding of the sun’s heat burrowing its way into my temples. A headache was coming on, probably brought on by dehydration, but all I could blame was the relentless ache in my heart. The stillness brought on by the paralyzing heat.

How could my cousin go on like nothing was wrong? How did he walk freely on without a care in the world? Offering company and lemon drink like it was something he found on the sidewalk? So easy. Too easy. His mind was truly elsewhere. And mine?

I dragged my face out from the couch and stared at my perspiring glass. It practically pooled onto the wooden table in which it sat. Even the cup was melting.

I grabbed the cup and drank. The tartness of the lemons immediately hit my taste buds and I wanted to shrink back, but instead I chugged and chugged until it was empty, spilling all over my already drenched tee.

“Ugh.” I wiped my face with the back of my hand. The cup was empty.

I fell back against the couch and closed my eyes.

…

I woke again to the family dog, licking the salt off my cheek. He was awfully cheerful for an animal covered in long, thick fur. I do not, for the life of me, understand how he stands it. He was panting, however, and I sensed his thirst. He pawed at me until I stood up.

Grabbing a dish from the laundry room, I filled the bowl up to the rim and dropped it next to the couch that I fell back into. The dog immediately went to town, lapping it up with the satisfying sound of tongue hitting water again and again and again. 

Where was my cousin? Where did the time go? I looked back out to the yard, the shadows of the trees had significantly shifted. The sun would be setting, in a few hours maybe? I wasn’t sure, I’m not a meteorologist.

The house felt quiet, but there was nothing in me that would care enough to see what was happening inside. Just me and the dog. That’s what I called him, just “dog.” I felt it was pointless to call him by a name he never responded to anyway. Plus “dog” just sounded better and rolled off the tongue.

The dog lapped again at my fingers, perhaps tasting the leftover lemons I had spilled. 

“What you want, dog?” I asked in a whisper.

No response. He wagged his tail and panted.

I patted him on the head but just touching his thick fur turned me off from the act. Sticky and sickly and hot. 

I felt my mind numbing, and I smiled at the animal, my face squashed by the seat cushion. 

At that, the dog left my side, back into the house. And I was alone again.

I turned my attention back to the yard. There was a papaya tree growing straight and stiff into the sky. I hated papaya, but apparently the birds didn’t mind it as they ceaselessly pecked into the orange mush. I watched them for a while, envious of their ability to soar high into the sky, probably where it was cooler. I wouldn’t know, I’m not an astronomer.

Time slid on. I didn’t move, and was given no reason to. I felt the ache of my head return, the heat stroke immobilizing my entire being. The sun moved slowly, utterly slowly, until it ducked behind the mountains, behind the trees. Soon the yard was coated in blue. The air became reinvigorated, though it was still dry and hot.

I sat upright, feeling the sweat cool itself in the late afternoon breeze. My head was pounding now, wishing again for the disgustingly sour taste of the lemon drink. It was nice when I had it, and it feels like a lifetime ago now. 

I spent the entirety of my day outside, waiting for nothing to happen, waiting for nothing to change. All I knew that would happen would be the sun would bear down on us, and the heat would kill me eventually, and then, like it never happened, it would disappear into darkness.

I could relate a lot to the sun in that moment, just repeating its journey across the sky. Taking up no space on the Earth, accosting the people, and yet it was welcomed like a daily hug. But I couldn’t figure out why people liked it when it burned like this. It felt like an attack. It made life not worth living. It reminded us all of our inevitable demise by Mother Nature.

Yet I went on, the sun went on, the Earth rotated, day in and day out. And soon the heat would go away, and the coolness that you thought never existed would again return. And it does. As predictable as the sun. 

Though there existed inconsistencies in life, the sun did return. Maybe that was the comfort. In the warmth it exuded, I knew that tomorrow would come. That the Earth kept spinning, towards oblivion.

I stood up this time, my vision blurring only for a moment. The sky was darker now, a pale purple lit by the remaining vestiges of sunlight. I placed my hand on the screen door, leading back inside. It was cool to the touch. The light sounds of a TV were playing from inside. I heard voices, I heard a laugh. 

I felt the breeze, and I went inside. Tomorrow I would return. To drink lemons, and pet the dog, and dream of soaring through the sky.