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Chapter 35 - Wear Are You From

I wanted to retort that he was eager and happy to try it out before. But I could also understand, since I didn’t know when something reversible crossed over into what Wes had been through. Maybe it could be through a series of small exposures, if it wasn’t an irradiation of intention from me.

As I looked down at his words, I focused on one thing and wrote, ‘Are you still my friend?’ as I passed it back to him.

He didn’t need but a moment to write a quick, ‘Yes’. However, he added below it, ‘Just confused and uncertain’.

I nodded, and we stopped there with note writing because the teacher was around. He stopped me as I was standing up and asked candidly, “You alright, Kenzie?”

Hugging my notebook to myself, I shrugged and echoed Ben’s words, “Just kinda confused and uncertain.”

Mr. Tassinari was one of my favorite teachers, whose lessons I wish I could recount better. He was a stout, genial guy with the California-fied remnants of a Brooklyn Italian accent. His black hair was a feathered, free-roaming bloom that bordered on an afro.

He gave me one of those calm, friendly pats on the back he often gave the girls on the volleyball teams after a rough loss. I appreciated it and that he didn’t flinch or treat me like hazardous or delicate material. I tried to assure him, and myself, that I would be alright.

Despite the grand plans and lecture, it was a quiet session. I’d nearly forgotten myself and my fears when finally, at long last, the dull roar of the other classes rising from their seats and the rumble of the room merged. The end was coming.

I had a little bit of make-up homework before then which kept me as my own little island but it also pushed the distractions away.

By the time the bell rang, I turned my work in and felt good that I’d essentially caught up with the days I’d missed. There would still be reading, always and ever, but I never minded that. I stayed as the chaos cleared. Ben had been one of the first out.

I put my stuff away gingerly. I watched Tassinari settle the last questions and clear off the board. He always left a few minutes after the bell to file his paperwork, so he could get to the gym. I thought about how he fluttered in and out of groups and mingled and moved and did this and that.

I could do that too. Well, not yet. But I thought about how he didn’t linger. It was similar to me being sorta like a TA. His desk wasn’t close to any of the students and he especially moved and gesticulated (Wes...) all over the room during lectures.

If I had to be shackled to the fact that I couldn’t sit right next to people, boys in particular, for long periods of time, then maybe being a teacher wasn’t a bad way to be around and amongst people without being too close to them. Sure, there would probably be situations that wouldn’t work as well. Meetings and sitting with coworkers and taking notes and all that but surely there could be allowances made.

I had to seriously think about what I could do with the rest of my life if this thing was going to be a part of me from here on out. Eventually…

For the moment, better to pat myself on the back that I got through a day without causing anyone to be horribly transformed against their will. So far as side effects, I’d just keep my distance from Ben and Cody for a while, to make sure there weren’t any more uncomfortable moments.

I rotated my neck with the feeling of a pop and light grinding, like a mortar and pestle. I could use a deep, long massage or something warm on my neck. That would be nice. A soothing burn.

I stopped daydreaming as I walked so I didn’t take a tumble over the railing out front. I followed the already-thinning crowds to the people jam that was the front of the school. I traced along the edge of the seven-foot, spiked black fence. The office was over on my left. I could’ve stopped there with an update for Aceves, but I didn’t really want to see him. And, so long as he didn’t want to see me either, I was perfectly fine with that.

Gladis’s car was back a little ways. She gave a yawn and a wave as she asked me, in her usual way, “How you day? Good day?”

Nodding and rubbing my eyes under my glasses, I told her, “Better than I thought. No trouble this time.”

“Good no trouble. Okay. You go home or see you dad?”

I sniffled a little for no reason and tried to get comfortable. It was quite a trek to dad’s college, but he liked me helping out in the afternoon. Besides, with the blistering speed Gladis drove, it wouldn’t take that long. I tried to push the chair back to get a little more legroom.

The usual pine odor had been replaced by an almost-sickly aroma of cinnamon pastries but no presence of them. A pile adorned with blue sweaters shifted in the back seat. The ride was familiar.

Past the Baptist church, we bolted by housing tracts both older and newer than the one where I lived. Mom’s retired friend lived deep within those brain-fold roads and cul-de-sacs which hid hills and random elementary schools I’d probably visited once or twice. Apartment complexes clustered on my side with a liquor market on the other.

Before the train tracks, I clung to the seat and watched the tan, stuccoed dog groomers and impound lot sail past. Between the businesses were little houses that looked like they were expelled from another era. Some had been turned into businesses with signs and ramps slapped out front.

Grinding over the train tracks, we passed the auto repair district. Further down was Brookville City Hall and Library. A half-finished green-belt replaced all the shabby shacks of the 80s. There wasn’t much till we cut across and over to the freeway.

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The area often developed in fits and lulls. Whenever the military got involved in something, the economy shot up. During peacetime, like it was then, the city nearly eroded away like sand drifts in the wind.

From the freeway, I watched the desert sail past me with its dense scrub, spiky Joshua Trees, and summer-eaten Yucca. There’d been years not too long ago when we’d gotten as much rain as the coastal regions. And there would be years to follow like that as well. At those times, the fault-snaked hills turned the faintest shade of green to briefly blot out the bleak reality of dirt-brown.

Past the mall, we entered the road cut with visible rock layers that danced like grooves on a wobbly record. Dad had a collection of vinyls, but I’d only heard them played once or twice. The record player’s speakers, two black, mesh-covered towers from the 70s, always crackled and popped.

The college was smaller back then, but it still felt huge. I only knew a few areas where dad worked.

He spent some time as a substitute. By then, he was considered an adjunct and a long-term fill-in. In years past, he’d had a bigger role, especially with his union. I didn’t know the particulars, but I’d pieced together that he was close to a retirement package comparable to what he earned with a full schedule.

Gladis parked on the side near the office painted in the gray and red school colors. Sometimes, I marveled at college students.

College had to be better than high school. At least, that’s what I’d always been told and what I hoped. Dad’s room was towards the end of the main complex next to the two-story library. Sadly, not as impressive as my random daydreams about it.

I walked in quietly and took a seat on the side. I waved to a few of the older ladies in the class who recognized me. It was a lower, remedial class. Math 090 or something. He had some basic programming classes and some medium-level math classes too. I remembered when he taught Calculus & Analytic Geometry a few times. He tried to teach me a bit too, but it didn’t take.

If I’m perfectly honest, he was a fair teacher. He was a regular in Toastmasters, but I felt like it didn’t make a difference. Dad was there to recycle some bad jokes and point at the board. He didn’t have to yell too often.

Gladis joined us soon after and helped those whose first language was Spanish. She had her own, ovoid table. I thought my mom would’ve made a better teacher. She liked dealing with little kids, but she was happy where she was. The fact she made (slightly) more than my dad didn’t hurt either.

I daydreamed a little as dad’s math-filled words floated around and over me like powdery air. My mom had studied languages. She was actually recruited to be a reading specialist for a local school district and spent some time there. That’s how she and dad met. Well, they met after work at a bar out in the middle of the desert but the romantic version was meeting by happenstance as co-workers.

Mom’s job got cut, but she managed to find work at Weldon Air Force Base just north of Rosewell, not to be confused with the one with aliens. I’d always been meaning to visit her workplace, but it was easier visiting dad than mom.

What if she’d stayed in teaching? What if she’d stayed a state union representative instead of quitting when I was born? My parents told stories of the adventures they had all over the country before me. A bit of a bummer to listen to.

They met after Apollo 12 and were married before Apollo 14. Not that either thing had a bearing on their relationship, just landmarks. Aerospace always mattered to Brookville.

They had a decade of life together before me. Marriage was late in life for them already. Later still by the time I came around. Got me thinking about if I’d come sooner or not alone. My mom had a brother, her only full sibling between all the half-sisters and cousins, who died before she was born. She also had an early miscarriage. So many could’ve-beens.

I listlessly paged through my homework as though I actually had the intent to get into it. I could barely even put together one word after the next. Instead, I watched the people around the room. Beyond the handful I knew, they were all strangers who seemed ages older and wiser than me.

One of the older ladies, a frown-lined housewife with long, black hair, had asked me to look over her essay for an economics class. Writing ability wasn’t the key requirement, so even my skills were enough to help her out.

No one came up to me that day. At least it wasn’t long before the end of the session. Dad just had meetings and paperwork. Gladis took care of some of it, along with tidying up the room once everyone else had left.

On our way to the main office, I brushed my hair back as I walked with dad. He smiled over at me and asked the long-delayed question about how my day was.

I gave him about the same answer I’d given Gladis, but he was a stickler with my assertion there was no trouble.

“No one acting stupidly?”

In no world, in no imagining, would I ever be completely open about my entire day with either of my parents. I knew what they needed to hear.

“It was fine. I was able to get my class stuff done.”

He nodded and pointed out, “That vice-principal of yours wanted to mess everything up for you. No need at all. Glad to hear.”

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Art by Alexis Rillera/Anirhapsodist