One (5 page)

Fading Friends

My hands would not release, they gripped tightly around the rail as my mind fought against my body. I couldn’t understand why I was so afraid. Deep inside beyond rational thinking laid the will to live. I could not stand on the ledge any longer. I climbed back onto the balcony and fell onto my stomach. The feeling of relief sickened me, to feel relief in a world that had to be a lie. I didn’t want to get up. I was content with lying on the balcony with my eyes tightly shut.

I don’t know how long I laid there. I rolled onto my back and sat up. I did not want to move any further so I just leaned against the railing facing the balcony door. I looked at myself in the reflection of the glass, my thoughts turned to Ashley and the fact that it would be impossible for her to leave her room. There was so much evidence to support the idea that this world was not real and yet I couldn’t bring myself to leave it.

Something else caught my attention. The skyline in the distance reflecting off of the glass, my body ached as I pulled myself to my feet and turned around. In the distance there was a large plume of smoke rising up from near Wells Street. If there is a fire then perhaps there would be a response by the fire department or the military. Also, my mind questioned why would there be a fire so far away from me if this were a dream.

Accepting and adapting to a situation was what I prided myself on doing, but here I did not want to accept this and I was not sure I could adapt. Questions requiring answers was what kept me moving. There was an explanation to be discovered and I did not believe I had any other choice than to investigate and solve the mystery I was placed in.

I left my apartment and on my way to the garage, I tried calling Christine again, but received her voicemail. I could not help but think as I pulled out onto North Avenue that having this motorcycle would be convenient considering the vehicle graveyard laid out before me. When passing by Clark Street I looked inside North Shore Bank and thought about the money left behind. If my family and Christine were with me perhaps this world would be a godsend. I almost chuckled to myself when I thought that.

Wells Street at least to me was the strangest street in the neighborhood known as Old Town. On that street you could find a restaurant for every continent in the world. North of North Avenue was the famed Second City. South of North Avenue they would hold art festivals in the summer. Christine forced me to go many times. Lately she had to force me to go everywhere. I had hoped we could have talked about that when we were to meet at the library. I wondered if we would ever get to have that conversation.

The world within a block was engulfed in flames. I sat on my bike at the beginning of the block I could not do anything but stare ahead. The western center of the block was on fire and it was quickly spreading to the buildings next to and behind them. The scene made sense. No attendants to see to their kitchens could result in fire, it only reinforced the idea that everyone left in a hurry or disappeared. I wondered if another great Chicago fire would occur, I thought too small, my thought should have been would the whole world burn.

It was so quiet, with no surrounding noises I could hear the fire devouring everything it touched. Glass shattering, wood cracking and metal bending and there was no sign of the fire department or the military. I didn’t understand why, but I was drawn toward the center of the block, the heart of the fire.

The building was unrecognizable and yet I could feel a connection. The closer I walked to the building the more my mind began to think back. Hypnotizing, the heat so intense against my body it was hard to breath, but I didn’t stop. Slowly I continued to move forward toward the sidewalk just before the building front.

If this is how a moth feels when before a flame then I could understand why it would willfully dance into its own oblivion. There was no longer a conscious thought to continue, but something else almost controlling me.

My body was defeated and drained of life the blazing heat overwhelmed me. My knees bulked then slammed against the asphalt, my waking consciousness faded. Just as I was ready to surrender myself pain brought me back, but not to the reality, to something else.

Social Adjustments

“
Bro, seriously, are you still having trouble jumping curbs?”

The heat was gone, my thought’s cleared and the voice registered in my mind. It was Jonathan, my best friend since childhood. I looked up at him and remembered this place, this time. He was fifteen, the same age I was. Dressed in worn jeans and a t-shirt we would ride our skateboards around the neighborhood finding any way we could to escape boredom.

The pain had shifted, it was not my knees, they were padded, but my hands that scrapped against the curb when I tried to jump it from the street. The building before me that was destroyed by fire was fully restored. Fireside Ribs, it all came back to me. It was the first restaurant my father took Jonathan and I to as kids. Since then it became our hang out spot to the delight of the owners.

“
So, you plan to stay there all day?” Jonathan said jokingly.

This was more than just a memory or a dream, it felt real. I could feel the summer sun against my face. I could smell the barbeque in the air. Yet another impossibility was before my eyes and no matter how much logic told me it was impossible my being itself told me it was real.

Jonathan reached out to help me up from the ground. Wells Street was how I remembered it, vibrant and full of people coming and going from its many stores and restaurants. It was warm, pleasant. The sky was bright blue with only shattered clouds of shining white. The cool air caressed my face freeing me of burden.

“
I would have made the jump man. There was a rock, got stuck under the board.” I retorted without thought.

The words flowed as if rehearsed for hours or better yet spoken only moments before. The scene was definitely from the past and yet at that moment I was fully entrenched in that time. My actions and movements matched what I remembered, but there was also the relief I felt from seeing him. Watching through my own eyes was the best way I could describe it. A dreamer who knows it is a dream and accepts it, watching it unfold.

“
Yeah, there is always a rock or a branch or a crack in the street. You know Timothy, maybe you should go back to riding your BMX bike, I just think it suits you better.”

Jonathan was always the better skater. It was him who first taught me to skate. He was correct that riding bikes was more my thing. He always liked to give me shit whenever I fell and I was always right there to give him a middle finger for his comment. I grabbed my skateboard and we entered the restaurant and placed our order. We sat at our seats. I stared at my skateboard more a moment then looked at Jonathan.

“
You know that we’re going to have to give up skateboarding.”

Jonathan spun around looking behind him.

“
What? Cops?” He asked.

“
No, I mean because of high school. It’s bad enough that we are going to be freshmen, but if we show up on day one riding skateboards then we are going to be forever tagged in that group.”

I knew him well and the expression on his face told me what he was about to say before he spoke a word.

“
Since when do you care what group we are in? We survived grade school and the reason we did is because we stuck together as we always do.”

Jonathan was correct. We had been together before kindergarten and since then have been part of every social group one could encounter. No matter what phase we were in the constant was that we were always together.

“
Grade school is one thing. We started together with Mrs. Ladd and we had our names before we even entered first grade. This is high school and a private one at that. I doubt we will know anyone and it’s important to establish ourselves quickly.”

Jonathan smiled then laughed at me.

“
Wow, you seriously sound like a chick. Did you have that speech in your head for a long time? Tell me, should we let our hair grow out and perk up our breasts so we can make it on to the cheerleading squad and become homecoming queen. Establish ourselves, let the rest of those trust fund brats worry about that.”

While the idea of changing who I was to fit in was sickening to me what Jonathan didn’t understand was times were changing and we had to change with it. It was one thing to take a “my way or the highway” attitude in eighth grade, but it would not work in high school. His father had to work twice as hard as mine did in order for him to go to the same school. All I wanted was to make sure we would make the most of it.

“
Listen, what we had at Alcott was awesome, but let’s face it, that’s over now. It’s always going to be you and me, but that isn’t going to be enough for high school, specifically this one. I’m not saying we need to sell out, but we need to make sure we do this right from day one or high school is going to suck big time.”

One thing we had done for each other since we met was rationally talk about the situations we were facing. There were many problems we had to hash out through the years and some were tougher than others, but even at a young age we were able to think things out and see where the other was coming from. I believed that was why we remained friends for so long.

“
Alright, it’s not as if I want to be part of team loser in high school, but I’m not changing who I am for anybody. With that said, I understand what you’re saying. I trust you, Timothy, I know you’ve got a plan and I’ll follow your lead okay?”

I could see he did understand where I was coming from. The owner laid down our plates as I looked out the window. I could feel the heat from the plate; it was hotter than it should have been. Jonathan continued eating oblivious to my gasping for air. His mouth opened and I could see he was talking to me but I could no longer hear his words. Sweat poured from my head as the pain from before returned to my knees. I could still see the people outside the window, but my vision blurred as I felt myself being pulled away.

Lost Loved Ones

My vision cleared long enough to see that I was back outside. Drained it took all my strength to lift my head to see the spot where the sign for Fireside Ribs once was. The flames seemed to roar as I looked at it. An explosion from within the store sent my flying backwards. M back slammed into the asphalt. Instinctively I raised my head to avoid slamming it against the pavement. I laid on my back as the wave of heat soaked into my body. I was slipping away again, not into a dream, but into darkness.

It was unclear how long I was unconscious. I was hoping I would awaken somewhere else, but any chance of that was taken long before my eyes opened. The smell of burnt materials led into the sweltering heat still surrounding my body. Through glazed vision, I could see the fire had spread to the street behind a residential area.

I was watching a part of my childhood turn to ash just as the world I knew seemed to have abandoned me. Jonathan’s voice echoed in my head, but his words were incoherent. My thoughts were scrambled. I thought about my past and the present before me as fear of the future crept ever so closer.

The fire was spreading, I focused my mind to the now realizing Wells Street was two blocks from Christine’s home. Even though the chance that she would be home was slim I couldn’t take that chance. Every muscle hurt as I pulled myself up from the ground, it was then I felt it. My cell phone, it was damaged when I fell. There was no way to call Christine or anyone else. I made my way back to my bike. I knew the only thing I could do was to go there myself.

Orleans Street at one time felt like a dirt road in the center of the city. I first visited the street when I was six. My father took me to see where the horses were kept for the buggy rides offered downtown. It was quiet; hardly any cars traversed the street. The elevated train ran down the eastern side of the street. Because of the tracks there were no homes on the western side until just before North Avenue where the tracks curved west. Originally when Christine brought me to her home I thought it was cool to live right next to the train on such a quiet street. It was not until the screech of the train ruined many quiet moments that I realized it was not as good as I thought it was.

I arrived on the block moments later. The silence did not seem so out of place there. I pulled in front of Christine’s home, but stopped and looked above me. The sight above was something I had not seen before. The brown line also called the Ravenswood stopped on the next block over from Orleans Street. Above, the train cars sat stationary, in mid turn. I looked closer and could see the doors to the cars were open. I could only assume that the train came to a stop and then opened its doors. At my feet was a black leather purse, it must have fallen when the person exited the train.

Curiosity caused me to look inside the purse. The license read Angelica Reed. I could not help, but wonder where she was at that moment. I gazed up and could see the smoke from Wells Street, the fire was spreading fast, and it snapped my attention back. I left the motorcycle in the street, climbed the concrete steps to Christine’s home, and knocked on the door.