In Town for the Weekend

Cerulea has always been a town that is known for how friendly and kind the people are. Always willing to help a neighbor or give directions to a stranger. Usually once you start a conversation with someone new you end up realizing you have a mutual friend, or a friend of a friend, or you know their cousin's girlfriend's hairdresser, etc. You live near downtown which is always bustling with business people, college students, families, etc. It’s comforting knowing if you need anything you just have to ask. Until the weekend hits. 

Your first weekend in town has a beautiful sunny forecast with highs of 78 degrees. Perfect for any outdoor activities, running errands, or just laying at the park with a nice book. The clock hits 7:00 and you want to get an early start to the day. You noticed a little coffee shop at the end of your street so you walk down for a cup. Emerging from the house, you breathe in the fresh air and soak up the rising sun. There aren’t any cars on the road yet which makes your walk peaceful and reflective. You get to the coffee shop and go straight to the counter. You get a scone as well, because why not? It takes a good five minutes for the single worker to emerge from the back to take your order. You normally don’t mind sitting alone at a coffee shop, it gives you the opportunity to people-watch. But, it doesn’t look like that activity will be enjoyable today so you take your coffee and scone home. Passing by the giant oak tree with its leaves slowly dripping off the branch, you see something move out of the corner of your eye. It startles you since you didn’t think anyone else was out right now. Examining the tree, you determine the scare was nothing more than a squirrel or a bird. You continue on home.

Later you decide to go to the gym to jump start your morning. There are a few people there but most of the machines are open which gives you the opportunity to get a good workout in; longer than you initially planned. An empty gym is always nice, not having to wait for a machine or smell the inevitable odors coming from the locker room. The gym is playing your typical pop music but it’s turned down so low, you blast your own music in your headphones to pump you up. You finish your last set of barbell hip thrusts when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn around to a man miming at the cushion thing that sits in between the barbell and your hips.  You’ve been to the gym enough to know he’s asking if you’re done using it. “Go ahead”, you offer. The man holds eye contact a beat longer than expected and takes the cushion. Strange, you think, but you shake it off and move on to the cable machines. Grabbing the detachable bar, you notice there are a bunch of cushions sitting right here, not being used. It’s no big deal, but you wonder why the guy didn’t just grab one of these. You look around to see what the man is using the cushion for and don’t see him in your immediate sight so you move on to your next workout. 

After the gym, you continue on with your day. Running errands, going to the park, texting your friends to see if anyone wants to get drinks later. You expect to run into a few people you know, as this is a common occurrence during your weekly activities, but haven’t seen anyone yet. You have barely talked all day and need to have at least a little bit of interaction before going home, so you try to start up a short conversation with the cashier at the grocery store. To your surprise, she barely looks up and mumbles something you can’t quite make out. “Sorry, what was that?” you ask. “$34.59” she responds. You arrive home, carrying the bag of groceries from your car to the front door. A breeze glides past your ear and you stop for a second to breathe in the fresh air. A tingle on the back of your neck makes your little hairs stand straight up. You whirl around, wondering what that odd sensation was. Everything is still. You continue on into your house. You haven’t seen your neighbors today and decided to make them a chocolate zucchini loaf as a thank you for being so welcoming. You drop it off at their door and decide to stay in tonight and watch a movie; none of your friends were available for drinks later. 

The next day, Sunday, is usually your chores day: cleaning, checking in with family (not necessarily a chore, but something you have to schedule or you’ll forget), and getting ready for the next week of work. You go outside to check the mail and notice your zucchini loaf is still on the neighbors doorstep. Their cars are in the driveway so you know they're home. You go back inside and realize you haven’t really talked to anyone this weekend so you give your family a call. They answer and ask how your weekend is going and if you have anything fun planned. “Not really, everyone seems to have left town for the weekend.” You brush this off as an odd couple of days. You’ll make plans for the next weekend well in advance so as to not let this happen again. 

Your week goes on as normal. You are able to chat with your coworkers and neighbors which was a nice break from the two-day silence. You ask them how their weekends were, what they did. Every person you ask gives a very vague response. “Oh, we didn’t do much”, “We visited so and so”, “We saw a movie”. Like ,okay??? But What. Did. You. Do? No one can give you a direct answer. It’s infuriating. You try a different approach. “You know, I’m new to town and was wondering what people like to do for fun on their days off here.” Blank stares, straight faces, no emotions, no suggestions. 

In this town, it’s as if time stands still on Saturday and Sunday. Like everyone either leaves town or stays indoors. But how can an entire town leave town? Where would they go? The nearest attraction is a good 4 hour drive away. And why would they stay indoors when it’s such a beautiful day? 

Unless they don’t want to be here, outside, on the weekends. 

But, what's keeping them inside?

Months go by and you continue to live like that first week. Buzzing around, chatting with everyone you see Monday through Friday, getting your work done, being productive. And on the weekends, you learn to entertain yourself in your own home. You try going out, doing new things, meeting new people; but there’s never anyone to meet or anything to do. Succumbing to your environment, you retire back to your humble abode. Finding ways to make the time pass, waiting for the next week to start. When you go outside on those Saturdays and Sundays, there’s always a feeling you get right outside. First you notice the peaceful, deafening silence, then you get a chill down your spine, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand. There’s never any kids playing, or dogs barking. No chatty neighbors, or lawns being mowed, or cars driving by. Just you. And that strange tingle.