John didn’t sleep for forty-eight hours after that. There was too much on his mind for him to do anything but watch television all day and he had completely lost his appetite. He couldn’t relax no matter what position he put his body in. The shape of the couch was unpleasing no matter how he oriented himself on it. It was too short to lie down fully and the back didn’t give him enough space to stretch out. He compared it in his head to taking a bath and how the tub was never big enough for your whole body.

Suddenly he felt the need to leave the house. He didn’t know how he had spent so long in there in the first place. He had to leave right away. So he got up, put on his shoes, and left without hesitation; without a destination.

He headed down the road towards the freeway. Nothing from the outside world was getting in. His subconscious was the only thing keeping him from walking onto the road and getting hit by a passing vehicle. He was floating above his body watching it go nowhere, do nothing, and feel nothing. John was empty like a brain in a jar not getting any sensory inputs or the shell of an eaten snail.

Where he ended up didn’t matter but he noticed the sound of the freeway getting closer and closer. His subconscious alerted him that he was coming up to a dead end. The freeway was blocked off by concrete dividers and a circular tunnel led underneath to the other side of town. The tunnel was about ten feet in diameter, concrete, and circular with graffiti covering every surface. The artists seemed more creative with how they fit so much graffiti on the tunnel walls than with the awkward drawings themselves. Downtown had some good artwork but the spray cans left by this entrance were used by middle school kids without any artistic talent. At least that's how John saw it.

Once he got inside, it was hard to make out anything further than twenty feet from the entrance or exit. It smelt like dirty gym shorts and whiskey but a breeze coming through from the other side masked the bad smell with that of pine. The air tasted like rain on a stormy night. When he reached the blackness of the center of the tunnel he leaned against the side. It felt like the outside world had been turned off and even though the roaring streets echoed from both sides and the cold, hard concrete beneath him chilled his body, it felt peaceful. There was no room to float around in the tunnel. Falling back down into his body, John was feeling life once again. His eyes grew heavy and his legs weakened. He closed his eyes and began to daydream. Deep down he felt like he needed a friend so he imagined one.

“Hey, didn’t mean to scare you. You can’t see much in this thing.” Said John.

“Ya no problem man. I was just relaxing for a sec.” Said Eddie.

“Go ahead.” John said, “This is a good place to forget about the outside world. My dad’s a pain in the ass like you wouldn’t believe.”

“I’m Eddie by the way.” Eddie said.

John tilted his head back and took a breath in before offering a hand shake. “John. John Dalton.” He said, shaking Eddie’s hand.

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“What school do you go to?” Asked Eddie.

“Parkesville.”

“Oh, OK. I go to Central. What grade are you in? I’m grade 10.”

“Grade 11.”

“Cool.” Said Eddie, “Soo uhh, I should go?”

John got annoyed at himself since even imaginary people wanted to leave him.

“Well,” said John, “what would you say we’re doing right now? Sitting or leaning?”

They were both against opposite sides of the tunnel. They had their knees bent slightly and their feet gripping the bottom to stop them from sliding down the spherical sides.

“Hmm. Ummmm… I guess it’s closer to sitting.” Said Eddie.

“Yes. It is isn’t it? But if we were to go farther up the wall like this.” John shuffled farther up the circular tunnel wall. “Then we’d be leaning.”

“Ya that makes sense. It’s hard to draw the line though. It's kinda like sitting on a really worn out couch.” Said Eddie.

That's when John opened his eyes and snapped back to his reality. He felt a little cold so he started walking home again.

On his way back home he saw a Chinese food place he’d always loved. His stomach churned and his eyes locked on target. The money in his dad’s account was his now so he could spend it on whatever he wanted. He opened the door ready to order everything on the menu and maybe even try to buy a couple beers, but stopped as he looked around at all the people. He recognized some of them. He didn’t remember how or why, but he knew them, and they knew him. If he blew a bunch of his dad’s money on Chinese food, something he was never allowed to do, they would get suspicious and wonder what had gone wrong. One thing he could do though was go to the grocery store.

That night John made a nice butter chicken and white rice, with a side of asparagus for him and his father. After serving himself a plate of food, he sat down at the dining room table to eat. He imagined his father across the table. His brown, glaring eyes staring right back at him.

‘Where’s my food?’ Said Hugh.

‘I didn’t think you needed any now that you’re -’

‘Why would I not need any? You want the neighbours to hear about what happened?!’ This is about the time that Hugh would slam his hand on the table in frustration.

“Alright!”

John served his father a plate of food and brought him a beer. He ate his own and went back for seconds. Hugh didn’t need seconds though, in fact, he had a hard time cleaning off his first plate.

After cleaning up, John wanted to head upstairs to bed but he heard his father shouting again. He kept thinking about social workers, psychiatrists, and foster families. He had to bite his lip and do what his father would have wanted him to do. Living like he had been two days earlier was harder than he thought it would be.

‘Hey! I’m gonna watch the game now. Bring me another beer in the living room.’

John had one foot on the first stair. He sighed and mimicked his father sarcastically then turned around and continued to do as his father requested.