Uncontrollables Controlling

My head is so heavy that I feel my brain splitting, like a coconut being cracked. From 7:50 am sharp to 3:05 pm late I jam information, paper, and numerals, it’s just too much.

"Keep looking ahead J...."

Nothing is any bleaker than mid-January winter. Barely short of four and the sun is playfully hiding beyond the houses, minutes away from sinking out of sight. With the dimming light aided the glistening snow that laid comfortably over the sidewalks and street. 

Ingesting the crispy harsh air, I let a detoxifying breath, “Jeremiah, what do we got this weekend….”

Organizing the infinite swirl of thoughts I noted several awaiting futures: Tomorrow I have to shovel, that Chemistry report, not to mention I have that Sister Stuart Scholarship, and I know Matt was thinking ―

“WHOA! WHO IS ―”

“JEREMIAH? No way!”

A small electric jolt shot my pulses at the unexpected greeting. Pulling up next to me was a small black Honda CRV. My eyes still weren’t adjusting, probably from freeloading stress, for even as I shuffled through the snowy curb the driver was only a shadow. 

“C’mon Jeremiah,” stirring an ambient voice, “It’s Mae. Remember St. Charles?”

The coconut had officially cracked. Mae Dickinson? I haven’t talked to her since 8th-grade graduation. Wow, four years already? At St. Charles, I remember one time she stole the answer key for our math test. Hooked up the whole class with A's. She was kind of goofy though. I saw her from a distance at Cici's Tacos. All she did was stare and laugh. It wasn’t a mean though, it was more like I did something funny. But I know I wasn’t being funny.

I bragged a smile, “Oh no Mae Dickinson? We got trouble, I can’t.”

“Where are you going?”

Pointing generally ahead of myself, “Home. I live just a couple ―”

“No, c’mon Jeremiah I’ll give you a ride.”

She was giggling as she said it, but I know Mae, it wasn’t mischievous. Still, I didn’t mind walking home given the way everyone looks, so wintery, so pleased with the cold. But, it doesn’t hurt to get ahead on tomorrow.

I was genuine, “Oh really Mae, thanks so much. Give just one second.” 

I don’t know why but I became shaky, not cold-shaky, but as though a gentle taser was latched to one of my sides. 

Calling concerningly, “You okay Jeremiah?”

“Ya just one ― OH SHIT!” 

I was one step, just one, and my left foot gave up. Slipping on snow or ice, my body flung sideways before I erratic clung to the door, and collapsed on the passenger seat, banging my head along the way. 

She laughed contagiously, “JEREMIAH, ARE YOU OKAY?”

More embarrassed really. That and my right temple itched heavily.

“Oh, I’m good Mae. Don’t worry,” laughing along. 

I didn’t have anything to say. 

“So Mae how is everything?”

“Good, really good,” she enthusiastically said, “Just finishing senior year at Iverson. What about you?”

She did have a great smile. I don’t why. Maybe her bronze skin did it or her nose. Her eyes actually, they were bright, full of something. 

“Same thing. Cruising through Carmel, looking forward to college.”

She talked so meaningfully, “Where are you going?” 

“I got my plans on Illinois in Champaign.”

“Oh shit, that’s awesome, Jeremiah. Major?” 

About two more minutes after this stoplight. Part of me wishes this talk was during a walk rather than a car ride suddenly. 

“Either Finance or Accounting.” 

“Yawn….” 

Any tried insult from Mae is nothing more than her being her. She curiously glanced over, just barely to avoid notice, checking to see I caught on, which of course I did. 

“Well, Mae what’s going on with you?”

“I don’t know.” She spoke indifferently with a tinge of confidence. “Haven’t decided yet.”

“No school choice, no major?”

“Nope. I’m letting it come to me. And if it doesn’t something else will.”

And I was home, home too fast. She was already pulling up to my brick house before any more conversation could further. There was an attitude in the general energy that this was just a meet and greet. Just old friends saying hi. Our conversation had run its expected course. 

“Well, Mae you do you. Hope to see around and thanks for the ride, it was a lifesaver.”

“No worries Jeremiah, see you later,” she waved hectically as I waved back, closing the door. 

The air felt much heavier outside now, the cold defying my jacket's layer. The conversation was a moment, fast, unexpected, but rememberable. My head for a split second was clear, calm as though Mae gave me an Advil. It wasn’t special, nothing crazy was said, yet I recall exactly the way everything went. Why?

“What are you thinking J…,” I mumbled to myself. And just as I should’ve known, the abstract weight of consciousness kicked out my momentary peace. My thought became advancing, wanting to be said than imagined. 

“C’mon J, no. It’s just Mae. Let’s just go inside, go to bed.”

Entering my home, I felt incredibly uncomfortable. I paused in the middle of our family mudroom, letting my senses speak for me. The first feeling I noticed was the reeking smell of burnt rubber that flared my nostrils. 

“Damn, that smells bad….”

Stumbling through the landfill of shoes, cleats, and boots, the kitchen was massacred by smoke. It was darker inside than out, for the only thing I could even try to describe was the black smoke engulfing everything. 

Shouting to anyone in the house, “FIRE! FIRE ―”

“COMING ― DON’T WORRY,” replied a scratchy voice, my Dad’s voice. 

“Where-where are you!”

“Over here!”

The trail of voice led to somewhere within that black mass. Thinking to myself, why is this happening? Really, how the hell could this happen? Nevertheless, I trapped my breath and squinted through. After knocking over almost all the dirty dishes, I finally met my Dad already hosing the fire with an extinguisher. As he drowned the fire out, he signaled a thumbs up over the rocket-engine noise. C’mon Dad, I thought you needed me here. What even caused all this? Either way, I had a bed calling my name. Tomorrow we’ll get on everything, right now my head feels too much right now.

Signaling a thumbs up back, I proceeded my desires, racing three steps at a time up the curling stairs. My room was cool, quiet like it should be. My bed felt soft the minuscule second I plopped dead on its cover. The window to my left logoed a sliver of the day’s last sunray. The other to my right, a natural blank display of night and darkness. I stared at the right one, visualizing the day’s ending and noting it would be my day’s beginning tomorrow. My body acting faster than my mind, already lifted any day-built-up tension, physical and mental, before slowly closing my eyelids for me. 

The innate switch flipped, finding myself completely plank-like on my bed. It was still pitch black in the window across from me, which was no help in assembling my groggy awareness. Sitting up, I flexed out every muscle and stiffness with a weird enjoyment. So what do I do now seeing as it is still ― NO WAY! 

Reaching for my phone from the nightstand I expected to see it was still Friday, a time somewhere after five but not this after. I don’t why but I began breathing fast and exaggerated. The shock, the jolt roused an insecure feeling that I messed up, made a mistake, but I didn’t, right?

“Settle down, settle J. Take a breath,” I advised myself, totally pausing again.

Pulling up my phone, I hesitantly peered at the white font letter which read nothing but the ordinary word of Saturday. I had slept through the entire evening, lucky enough to still catch the morning seven o’clock sunrise. But yet, there was no sun… cloudy maybe?

I wasn’t tired anymore, either from sleep or stress, so I willfully got out of bed to check outside. The window was just as I stated. Shadows and brushes of purple and blue mixed together over the neighboring houses and yards. Surveying the opposite end of the room, I was finally slapped with the reality in which I knew felt off. The sun was peaking its crown just above the horizon, shooting select rays that experimented with what should’ve been the outside. 

“Where’s the snow…?”

With no answer to the temperature, any pairs of eyes could’ve mistaken the grassy lawn as the morning to spring. No slush piles, no puddles, just a blank non-precipitated outside. The rush of literally everything betrayed my head, tempting to be apathetic. But a twitch or some chemical imbalance peer-pressured otherwise, edging me further on this odd morning.  

The house was still silent as night with no inch of an awakened body. It was supposed to be a Saturday morning. I slipped down each step and headed back to the shoe-overdosed mudroom. Along the way I did notice that the kitchen stove was completely stained with a splash of char and ash marks, maybe that thumbs up from Dad too fast of an assumption. 

Peering through the door’s window, I confirmed what I saw in my room again here. The sun was rising from another angle and winter may as well have died. Do I open the door actually? Is it extremely hot outside? Wait, no because then everything else would be melted. Though, do I still open it?

“Yes.” 

I made my decision and methodically twisted the gilded knob. Instinctively holding my breath, for what reason I don’t know, but I did. Swinging the door open, the outside met the inside and nothing happened, a better view.  

Composing my mind, I decided outside was fine and welcomed any sensation that could answer my dilemma. First thing I noticed was I am extremely hot, a summer type hot. Wait, how could I forget that I was still in khakis and my P-coat? I never changed. Like man preparing to dive overboard, I ripped off my clothing in a full desire to understand. The temperature still felt warm, obviously shorts and tees type weather. Then out of my left ear, a thunderous knock whipped me around. I saw my Dad at the mudroom door, thoroughly dumfounded.

“What are you doing?” he asked. 

“Dad, c’mon don’t you ―,” but a thought interrupted my reply. 

I’m currently standing in the middle of my backyard, with only a pair of boxers as clothing, at seven o’clock on a Saturday morning. He must’ve thought I was just coming home from last night. 

Very precautiously, I explain, “Okay it is not what ―”

“I don’t care,” huffed his exhausted voice, “Just, just put some clothes on. Also, wipe that smut off your face”

That’s it. All he picked out was me! Does no one ever look at the sun? We live in Chicago, it is the heart of winter, all the snow packed up and left in one night without a trace. Yet, the one thing he finds interesting is me in my underwear. 

Is this a simulation?

Forget all the plans, the studying, that doesn’t mean shit right now. I need answers, explanations, and an excel sheet listing what is happening and why. Picking up my belongings, I set off inside to prepare myself for whatever a person could call today. 

Scanning the mosh-posh of clothes in my top drawer, it dawned on me, “Things are being weird so let’s just roll with it J. We don’t like it, don’t understand, but I guess you got to roll.”

I settled myself into a pair of athletic shorts, A t-shirt, heading once again down the stairs. I caught my Dad with a drill and SOS sponge, doing some type of activity inside the oven. I had no time to joke or chat, I’m the only one awake right now in my mind. I opened the door, part of me wishing I could just see my breath again or feel the icy wind, but outside was as abnormal as ever. 

Asking myself, “Where do I go now… school?” Matt did say he would hang out after their morning practice. Maybe he has answers. 

I haven’t run since 5th-grade track but in times of this, you do things you don’t expect to. Running and running quickly turned into heaving and heaving. I only made it a block before a stitch ate my right side. That gross irony-blood taste sank down my throat with every breath and gasp. The school was at least another 15 minutes away on foot, not to mention I have no idea if Matt is at practice. A thought after a thought climbed on each other, sinking my head ever lower with the uncomfortable feeling of not knowing. 

“Let’s just take a seat at the curb J and then ― YO-WHOA!”

A deafening horn blasting in my right ear, throbbing every muscle inside. Someone had recognized me but who? It’s only about eight now. I glared at the general street before naturally locking eyes onto a black Honda CRV. It was Mae.

“Jeremiah, twice already!”

“Hey Mae,” I said quit distractedly, given that everything is completely off. 

She saw my stress, “You okay?” her concerned voice edged, “What’s on your face?”

“Why do people keep asking ― oh…,” rubbing the side of my head I was left with crumbles of reddish, black residue. Touching my face again, I crossed a burning trench mark just below my right temple. I had a gushing cut this whole time and it took me until now to realize. 

“Here come in. I have some napkins.”

People usually warned about candy when jumping into cars, but napkins might be the most underrated item a person could want. 

“Thanks, Mae.”

She handed me a loaf of napkins from her cupholder while holding her notorious smile. The car was cool and refreshing as the air and leather greeted my skin. Mae seemed as oblivious to everything just as my Dad was. This pestered me, especially coming from someone like Mae. 

“So where now?” she giggled. 

“Mae don’t you notice anything.”

“Well, I noticed your cut yesterday. I think you banged your head on my car. I wanted to see if you would ever catch on.”

That’s embarrassing. 

“Right, ya I’m idiot,” forcing a chuckle before adding, “Haven’t you noticed the weather.”

Excitedly she jumped up, “Oh ya! Isn’t it great! At first, I was worried like it was global warming, probably is, but then the sun looked different somehow. Like, like it was ―

“Coming from a different side,” we said in unison. She burst out in laughter and I too couldn’t help. She’s always laughing and even now it was something I needed. 

“Has anyone else said something?”

She pondered for a second until speaking very point-blank-like, “Nope. My parents didn’t really care for some reason. I was heading to the store of popsicles since ya know it’s summer, at least for right now.”

Of course she did. 

“But ya no one really cared too much Jeremiah and I don’t know why. It’s pretty entertaining.”

“Entertaining?”

“Well, I mean there’s nothing you can do about it,” she thought before thinking out loud, “Live in the moment I guess.”

Live in the moment… what? 

“What do you mean by that?”

Shrugging, she said, “Nothing bad has happened. No news stations are click-baiting it. Seems like another day but it’s not. The best thing is to do is roll with it.”

I glanced sideways at her. Did she just say that? She could be right, but there’s always that “yet” or “maybe." Though, if shit hits the fan the best person to be with is Mae. 

“Do you want to go to Lake Michigan?” she shot out, “We might be the only ones there. Might as well do something unless….”

Instant reaction was scream “absolutely." Matt will be at practice either way and the day is pretty gorgeous. 

Casually, I replied, “Ya sure Mae.”

The drive was great. She shared a story about the time she lost her cat and found it in the forest by the den of a coyote. I threw in how my Dad met me this morning, making her hysterical to the point we almost crashed. The sun was brighter, the air felt freer, and this talk wasn’t a conversation but really a picture, meaningful without it needing to be said. 20 minutes ran fast and before we knew it we were cruising on an unrecognizable empty Lake Shore Drive. No one was at the beach, no one was driving, everybody was inside missing out on this moment, this day.

Proud blue waves crashed as they should on the marigold sand. Pigeons and seagulls squawked above in their mysterious circles while Mae and I got out of the car and headed to the beach shore below. We shook off our shoes and socks, allowing the toasty sand to hugged our feet. The lake wind breathed on our faces as we walked closer, the pleasant salty smell taking hold.

Finding a spot just short of the wet sand, dry sand border Mae suggested, “Here seems good Jeremiah.”

She was more than right. Nothing but illusionary infinite water laid ahead while the sun patting our backs. We both relaxingly kicked back, using our arms as stilts.

“It’s beautiful Jeremiah, nothing else to describe. A whole beach to ourselves.”

I craved to have it addressed, I couldn’t have it ignore any longer.

“Mae,” she looked right into me with her bright green eyes, her face was extremely close to mine, “What did you really mean about ‘rolling with it.’” 

Smirking, she answered simply, “People get beat by routine, by what’s next. Like today. It doesn’t make sense but it’s perfect. I just feel we ignore our chances to be free flow. That’s why I haven’t decided on college or anything. It’s barely January. I just want to live.”

I thought of my dad. One second he's in a fire and next, he has two nonsensical objects together. My cut too. I never asked nor wondered why. Maybe my Dad wasn’t wrong seeing only me in the backyard.

An invisible shift happened. I felt hot, bodily hot, something not from the sun. My palms began sweating in the sand and my breath I had to fight for. My heart thumped, instigating my mind to act, to live. 

“Mae,” she shot her face at mine, my tone was different than before. 

I gazed into her eyes, she gazed back, she felt it too but won’t say. I grinned. She grinned.

Only on a day like today would I be able to kiss Mae.