As I flipped on the light switch I felt the electricity of anticipation surge through my body. It isn't going to be an ordinary day. No day after today will be ordinary. It was odd to know this and yet still be unsure of just how extraordinary today would become. How different I was going to be from here on out. Knowledge is fleeting and floating. It is a sly thing. Hard to attain and, if not properly cared for, will slip away like a lost sneeze. Grip too tightly and you can snuff it out or twist it into a shape unrecognizable. It's enough to make you want to switch the light back off.
The weather was holding onto the last remnants of early winter. Afternoons could be sunny and mild. They could also turn overcast and blustery. Because of this I grabbed my jacket just in case my hoodie wouldn't be enough. I took one last look back into my apartment thinking through my mental check list. Back window, locked. Water faucet, off. Lights in the bedroom, off. Fridge, closed. All good. Time to get the day started. It hasn't really even started and I am already late. What is new?
I turned down the sidewalk towards the corner of Wilson and 5th. On that corner sits my favorite little coffee place. The coffee is a 5 on a scale from 1-10 and the owner was an asshole but they have the best view of people as they headed to their jobs, their lives. And that is what I needed more than anything.
Just as I was going to sip my over sized mug of sludge, Fenny sits down beside me. "I read that in some societies it is considered a sign of respect to return your friend's calls. It is even said that if someone takes time out of their life to get to know more about yours, you should actually return that act in kind." Without looking up at Fenny I simply replied "I was taking a poop." Fenny replied "For two days?"
Fenny and I had know each other since grade school. There wasn't another person on this earth that even came close to knowing me half as well. And that included me. So you can imagine how frustrating it was that Fenny still expected me to return calls. It was pure luck I even made it out the door in the morning. Remembering to call back was something I wasn't going to ever be good at.
It was this way for as long as I could remember. Same sludge in a mug. Same witty banter between two old friends. Same view. Sometimes the details would change but at it's core the scene outside that dirty window stayed the same. As if prescribed, everyone seemed to basically stay on the same path. The familiarity of it was comforting and suffocating. I was bound by the mundane.
At about a quarter to 11 Fenny popped back in before he headed to "lunch". I was in buried in my laptop. Tapping away on some crap I was writing and trying not to vomit. Not because my writing was that bad but because, as I was fairly certain, the muffin I choked down to soak up the sludge was a few months past it's prime. But a person has to eat. Right?
Fenny grabbed a chair from a nearby table and sat it on the opposite of me. He even swung the seat so the back faced me, not his aback. He climbed onto it like he was mounting a horse or motorcycle or a bike. Something with a saddle. What was super irritating about this was that I chose the table I chose for many reasons. One of which was because it was easy to move the other chair from that table to another table and it not seem crazy I was alone. The table was the right size for one. Especially one who was spreading out over the table with their life. So when Fenny left every morning I was kind of on my own. Which is what I liked.
I did try to ignore Fenny. He was hard to ignore. Fenny was tall and thin. But not too thin. He had a beard that was always two days away from completely grown in. We never talked about it but I'm not 100% sure it just didn't grow that way. Like stunted. His eyes sat on his face in a way that was welcoming but made him look mischievous. He had worked in construction while in college and his hands never recovered. If he got nervous or anxious he would rub them together like they were cold. He said his nerves made his hands tingle like they were freezing. And today he looked like he was standing outside in sub freezing temperatures without gloves or one of those dope ass trash can fires.
Fenny and I met sometime between 4th and 5th grade. He was a year ahead of me in school and we lived only a few houses apart. We would spend most days together after school or on the weekends. Even after his parents split, we managed to hang out a lot. Fenny was funny, even back then. As we got older our adventures found us spanning out farther and farther away from home. Two wheels turned to four. Gas money turned into trip money. It was really cool.
Right as I turned 18 Fenny and I decided to see if we couldn't make it to the Smoky Mountains. I wanted to go to Dollywood. Fenny wanted to camp. So we didn't agree on a lot but we both liked adventure. This was before mobile phones. Ok, well actually it wasn't before they actually existed but more like before they existed for us. My parents had given up on me and Fenny's parents were too busy hating each other to notice when he was missing. So off to the Smoky Mountains we went.
The trip between home and the Smoky Mountains went well and seemed to fly by. We talked and joked, which is pretty much how every day went. But like any good road trip, these conversations had a different weight to them. A mass. Something indescribable but necessary. Fenny drove most of the time and I can still see his expression change as he talked about all the things he wanted to do with this life. His dreams and plans. As he spoke his eyes would shift back and forth and made you feel like he was watching it all unfold on the road in front him.
Fenny had dreams. For as long as I had known him that was what he was. A dreamer. But he didn't have the kind of dreams everyone else has. His dreams were about having a family and taking care of people. His family and friends. His dreams didn't include fame or fortune. His dreams didn't include power like non other in the universe. He didn't want to change the entire world. Just his.
With about 30 miles to go we stopped to get gas and a few snacks. Being 18 and me I had decided that the trip needed a little flavor that only weed could provide. As mind expanding events go, spending a weekend in Dollywood stoned was considered by many as top 5. And I also thought that the road trip itself would be a whole lot more fun if I were high. So I was right so far and looking forward to being right when we got there.
The cop in the gas station had other ideas. One look into my wide eyes and the jig was up. It could have also been the arm load of Pringles, Milky Ways and Cokes that gave me away. Or the laughing when the cashier gave me the total. Shockingly I remember thinking, "How the hell am I going to pay for this with my hands so full?" Looking down at my haul as I exited the store I actually felt really calm. That was some good weed. As I walked back to Fenny's car a cold, stern cop voice shouted from behind me. "Hey kid...KID! You didn't pay!"
I stopped cold and stared straight into Fenny's face. The same wonder and calm I saw in his eyes the whole way here had been replaced with the kind of dread only a stoned 19 year old can muster. The kind of dread that flashed your brain with thoughts about jail time and ruined futures. The kind of dread only youth feels when the illusion of invulnerability is stripped away.
That dread in his eyes so many years ago was the same dread I saw in Fenn'ys eyes when I looked at him over the screen of my laptop.
The weather was holding onto the last remnants of early winter. Afternoons could be sunny and mild. They could also turn overcast and blustery. Because of this I grabbed my jacket just in case my hoodie wouldn't be enough. I took one last look back into my apartment thinking through my mental check list. Back window, locked. Water faucet, off. Lights in the bedroom, off. Fridge, closed. All good. Time to get the day started. It hasn't really even started and I am already late. What is new?
I turned down the sidewalk towards the corner of Wilson and 5th. On that corner sits my favorite little coffee place. The coffee is a 5 on a scale from 1-10 and the owner was an asshole but they have the best view of people as they headed to their jobs, their lives. And that is what I needed more than anything.
Just as I was going to sip my over sized mug of sludge, Fenny sits down beside me. "I read that in some societies it is considered a sign of respect to return your friend's calls. It is even said that if someone takes time out of their life to get to know more about yours, you should actually return that act in kind." Without looking up at Fenny I simply replied "I was taking a poop." Fenny replied "For two days?"
Fenny and I had know each other since grade school. There wasn't another person on this earth that even came close to knowing me half as well. And that included me. So you can imagine how frustrating it was that Fenny still expected me to return calls. It was pure luck I even made it out the door in the morning. Remembering to call back was something I wasn't going to ever be good at.
It was this way for as long as I could remember. Same sludge in a mug. Same witty banter between two old friends. Same view. Sometimes the details would change but at it's core the scene outside that dirty window stayed the same. As if prescribed, everyone seemed to basically stay on the same path. The familiarity of it was comforting and suffocating. I was bound by the mundane.
At about a quarter to 11 Fenny popped back in before he headed to "lunch". I was in buried in my laptop. Tapping away on some crap I was writing and trying not to vomit. Not because my writing was that bad but because, as I was fairly certain, the muffin I choked down to soak up the sludge was a few months past it's prime. But a person has to eat. Right?
Fenny grabbed a chair from a nearby table and sat it on the opposite of me. He even swung the seat so the back faced me, not his aback. He climbed onto it like he was mounting a horse or motorcycle or a bike. Something with a saddle. What was super irritating about this was that I chose the table I chose for many reasons. One of which was because it was easy to move the other chair from that table to another table and it not seem crazy I was alone. The table was the right size for one. Especially one who was spreading out over the table with their life. So when Fenny left every morning I was kind of on my own. Which is what I liked.
I did try to ignore Fenny. He was hard to ignore. Fenny was tall and thin. But not too thin. He had a beard that was always two days away from completely grown in. We never talked about it but I'm not 100% sure it just didn't grow that way. Like stunted. His eyes sat on his face in a way that was welcoming but made him look mischievous. He had worked in construction while in college and his hands never recovered. If he got nervous or anxious he would rub them together like they were cold. He said his nerves made his hands tingle like they were freezing. And today he looked like he was standing outside in sub freezing temperatures without gloves or one of those dope ass trash can fires.
Fenny and I met sometime between 4th and 5th grade. He was a year ahead of me in school and we lived only a few houses apart. We would spend most days together after school or on the weekends. Even after his parents split, we managed to hang out a lot. Fenny was funny, even back then. As we got older our adventures found us spanning out farther and farther away from home. Two wheels turned to four. Gas money turned into trip money. It was really cool.
Right as I turned 18 Fenny and I decided to see if we couldn't make it to the Smoky Mountains. I wanted to go to Dollywood. Fenny wanted to camp. So we didn't agree on a lot but we both liked adventure. This was before mobile phones. Ok, well actually it wasn't before they actually existed but more like before they existed for us. My parents had given up on me and Fenny's parents were too busy hating each other to notice when he was missing. So off to the Smoky Mountains we went.
The trip between home and the Smoky Mountains went well and seemed to fly by. We talked and joked, which is pretty much how every day went. But like any good road trip, these conversations had a different weight to them. A mass. Something indescribable but necessary. Fenny drove most of the time and I can still see his expression change as he talked about all the things he wanted to do with this life. His dreams and plans. As he spoke his eyes would shift back and forth and made you feel like he was watching it all unfold on the road in front him.
Fenny had dreams. For as long as I had known him that was what he was. A dreamer. But he didn't have the kind of dreams everyone else has. His dreams were about having a family and taking care of people. His family and friends. His dreams didn't include fame or fortune. His dreams didn't include power like non other in the universe. He didn't want to change the entire world. Just his.
With about 30 miles to go we stopped to get gas and a few snacks. Being 18 and me I had decided that the trip needed a little flavor that only weed could provide. As mind expanding events go, spending a weekend in Dollywood stoned was considered by many as top 5. And I also thought that the road trip itself would be a whole lot more fun if I were high. So I was right so far and looking forward to being right when we got there.
The cop in the gas station had other ideas. One look into my wide eyes and the jig was up. It could have also been the arm load of Pringles, Milky Ways and Cokes that gave me away. Or the laughing when the cashier gave me the total. Shockingly I remember thinking, "How the hell am I going to pay for this with my hands so full?" Looking down at my haul as I exited the store I actually felt really calm. That was some good weed. As I walked back to Fenny's car a cold, stern cop voice shouted from behind me. "Hey kid...KID! You didn't pay!"
I stopped cold and stared straight into Fenny's face. The same wonder and calm I saw in his eyes the whole way here had been replaced with the kind of dread only a stoned 19 year old can muster. The kind of dread that flashed your brain with thoughts about jail time and ruined futures. The kind of dread only youth feels when the illusion of invulnerability is stripped away.
That dread in his eyes so many years ago was the same dread I saw in Fenn'ys eyes when I looked at him over the screen of my laptop.
Can't wait for next installment
ReplyDeleteAwesome! I'm glad you liked it.
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