7ilZZua.jpg [https://i.imgur.com/7ilZZua.jpg]

Chapter 37 – No Matter Who Wins, I Lose

However, at the same time, everything I’d seen in other articles and lessons and books told me that characterizing the human brain as some weird holographic, magic tool was just hand-waving the true oddness of ourselves.

Those other universes out there, if they actually exist, weren’t gonna bump into our consciousness when even the most intricate scientific equipment can't detect them for sure. That was the same as people claiming they could feel energy, waves, or any of that shit.

Stories come from the mash of stuff we’ve already seen, even fleetingly, and not some alternate dimension. Déjà vu is just some processing, chunking, or access error in memory recall. All those monsters and ghosts and silly stuff like that don’t really exist.

There was just all of us, our minds, and the untold billions of light years of nothingness with the rare, scattered embers to shine on an expanse of mysteries.

That was beautiful, amazing, and horrifying enough on its own.

Of course, I could always be wrong…

But, yeah, all that drifted through my head in those quiet moments. I tried to hold on to the details and articulate it with the weakest and most insubstantial words I could flail for. It didn’t matter. If I told dad all that, he would just bring up God as a reminder or a confirmation no matter the context.

I considered and shaped my words carefully, responding, “I was thinking about what’s on TV tonight.”

The typical Thursday for my parents on their ailing TVs and half-powered cable signal was Promised Land and Diagnosis Murder on CBS. Sometimes mix in reruns of The Golden Girls, which I liked more than I would’ve admitted to them. Static still kept me from watching channels like MTV and VH1, which got mentions around school. We had the suspiciously-clear premium stations for recent movies and stuff to trade with Mrs. Horwitz but that wasn’t interesting till the weekend.

The point was it was enough of a carrot that we were able to segue into science fiction programs we both liked, which ate up enough time till our salads arrived and conversation dropped off for a while.

I ate little but Thousand Island on my salads for most of my youth. I was starting to experiment, but it was the sort of day I went back to the familiar. Salad was always a soaked, mushy afterthought at a steakhouse but this one was tolerable.

The eventual steak was reliable and cooked just enough. I’d weaned myself back from what I realized were the food crimes of “well-done” steak to a decent “medium”. That was as far as my parents let me go before their terror tales of deadly food poisoning were brandished.

We finished up with a small scoop of vanilla soft-serve each. Dad drove in his usual way, applying the brake several times in jerking succession before shuddering to a full stop. My mom pointed this out to him whenever he drove. 

I leaned back and watched the shifting tan and yellow of strip malls and desert mottle by. Some of my favorite times were in mom’s car when we were all driving back from somewhere. I’d lean across the middle seat, gazing upwards. It was special at night when the dull amber streetlights provided a slow flash against the darkness.

Too early for that but soon the time would change and we’d be well into dusk. Keeping my distance, the most my dad said was a light bit of reassurance that, “It’ll be fine. You just worry about doing your best in class, alright?”

I promptly agreed and gave him a smile in return. Home was much as we’d left it. It wasn’t long till mom drove up along the side. Her first question (not genuinely a question though) was if I could help her bring in all her stuff. I did so without complaint. Her next question came with solemn calculation.

She waited me out as I sat on the couch against the wall with her presence looming beside me. I spoke first.

“Class was alright.”

Mom turned to look at me and asked, “Oh? What happened?”

I reflected on the details I’d told dad and offered, “There were no problems. Um… All the teachers knew what was going on and I told them…it was okay.”

“What did they claim to know?”

I pressed my hand into my arm and elaborated clumsily, “Well…uh, the Vice Principal told them I guess the…umm…with Wes and...but the doctor saying I was okay.”

“And you told them what...exactly?”

I had the sneaking feeling that whatever I could say would be a littered minefield of poor choices. At least mom didn’t look to be in a bad mood but one never really knew for sure.

“That the Vice Principal should’ve talked to them about stuff and if they needed to do anything in class…for me.”

Mom leaned back and admonished me, “You need to be a squeaky wheel. You never get anything otherwise. You’ll get rolled over by anyone who comes your way. You should’ve told them exactly what I’ve said again and again. There is no proof anything is wrong. They have no right to change things up just because some slimy spic in a suit thinks he’s got it all figured out.”

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I winced at her slur, took a long breath, and responded, “I stood up for myself in class. I…I made sure my English teacher treated me like an equal and the other students didn’t bad mouth me.”

She focused a narrowed gaze at me, as she pressed, “Did you get in trouble?”

I shook my head and reiterated, “No. He understood and sent me to another room to do my work. He even came and tutored me and stuff.”

Mom snorted once. “So, they’re just going to throw you out of class every day from now on? Despicable. At least you won’t be in gang-banger filled classes but still.”

I knew behind her words that my mom regretted not pursuing a parochial school for me. However, Salt Vista Christian High School was ten times the commute for anyone dropping me off while Brookville High was less than a mile away. She didn’t bring that up, this time.

“What else happened?”

I did my best to compose my words. Then, the tension in me eased and I just said what poked through my thoughts, “I had a good day. I was with Summer and Natasha and Cody and everyone. They helped me through the day. I caught up with all my homework and I was fine. It was like I was a TA. Spanish was fine because I was moved around. I was out for English but that’s because…that teacher is still figuring this out.”

Mom folded her hands in her lap. “You be careful of your so-called friends. Any of them could turn on you. You have to watch out for yourself. And it’s pretty clear your teachers don’t know what they’re doing at all.”

I aimed my head at her and said, “I love my friends. They were there for me. Summer sat with me and so did some people I don’t know as well. Ben and Rebecca. And I had lunch right beside Cody and there was nothing wrong.”

A restrained intensity smoldered from my mother’s shadowed, brown eyes. “Did they see what’s going on with you?”

Short breath. “Yeah, it’s pretty much impossible to hide if I’m gonna be around other people.”

She gave an exasperated sigh. “So…you did cause trouble. Nothing like the other day, I hope.”

Me?!...Me causing trouble?

But the assertion was a stone wall in her mind and there would be no punching through it with my own, meager words. “There was no trouble, I told you. Don’t presume.”

She uncoiled. “Don’t you talk back to me! I’m making sure you’re safe. You do the right thing and there won’t be problems. But you go off talking back to teachers and thinking anyone your age knows anything and is just gonna be your friend and you’ll be in for a big wake-up call soon, missy.”

That was the last real point of ‘congenial’ discourse. I eventually revealed that some of the people I had sat with were temporarily (emphasis on ‘temporarily’) changed. My mom continued with her sighs.

“You really need to learn. I’ve been too soft on you. You don’t need to hang out with people. I told you to keep all this to yourself but you’re just spilling the beans to anyone you run across. There will be consequences. Mark my words. You better learn…or else.”

I stood from the couch and answered sharply, “Got it. Learn to reject all friends or support. Great. Whatever. I’m going for a walk around the block.”

Mom tensed the even, narrow teeth of her partial and warned me, “We will have words when you get back. And you will be back promptly. Also, go thank the neighbors for helping us trim the tree last month, so you’re actually doing something.”

I puffed my frustration as I went out the front door. Dad had been on the sidelines, but he hadn’t joined in on my side or teamed up with mom, as he did depending on his mood. I resisted slamming the door because it would be one more thing for her to hold over me when I got back. I gave a quick-step sprint in place on the stoop to burn off a little energy.

After rubbing and rotating my neck, I stretched and walked past the metal fence to the drooping branches of the front yard tree. It had a few specks of yellow leaves dotting the expanse of its still-green, fruitless mulberry canopy.

I stomped over to the neighbors with their cobblestone porch area, yipping dogs along the side, and a cornucopia of junk stacked along the path to their door. A ring brought on a frenzied chorus of barks.

Jeanne, the matriarch of the household gave me a calm smile as I passed along the message. She inquired about the health of my parents as the dogs assaulted the screen door. She whistled at them and said something in Spanish I didn’t understand. I told her they were fine.

When she asked about me, I told her I was fine too, just starting up my junior year classes. I was glad she didn’t pose the uncomfortable question of what I planned to be.

I didn’t even know what I was this last week let alone what I might become the next one.

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Art by Alexis Rillera/Anirhapsodist