“So…That’s my story,” I said. “All I want is to spend the rest of my life with the woman I am endlessly in love with but–freaking–Baron Von Jump-Zone won’t even let me leave the place!”
“Have you maybe asked him to leave you alone?” Said the nine-year-old girl in front of me.
“Oh, I’ve tried! I’ve asked him multiple times in the past to stop flirting with May, to stop trying to get between us so he could have her for himself. He never really liked me, not even when I first started working here. His way of training new employees basically consists of “You’re doing it wrong!” and “I’m in charge here!” The only thing that made working in this place bearable was May. And when we began dating…” I made a conspiratorial gesture. “That’s when he really ramped up his assholery…” I trailed off, realizing I said “assholery” in front of a nine-year-old girl. I glanced at her apologetically.
“It’s okay. I hear worse at home.” She said.
That made me a little concerned, but, okay. I shrugged and said: “Fair enough. Well…yeah. After I started dating May he really took his jerkiness,” I caught a humorous smile on her face at that. “…to a whole new level. He’s pretty bad but, literally, he does not treat me the same way he treats the other workers. He’s a jealous, cynical, lonely, pompous, and, above all, jerky little dip head!”
The girl started to giggling hysterically. I was happy to make her laugh, it’s been a personal pleasure of mine since I was born, but I also didn’t really mean to? I don’t know, everything I’ve said about Patrick Crazy Survowski is true and more, but I never could help myself around children. To me, making people laugh is like hearing angels sing.
At that moment I had to cover my ears when a scream like that of a banshee sounded somewhere below the playground. Yes, I’m in a playground. An indoor one specifically, like the ones that are sometimes in a fast-food restaurant such as McDonald’s or Carl’s Jr. Only much bigger and much more crowded. And in a trampoline park.
Sounded like some kid was pitching a fit at the base of the playground, even the little girl covered her ears to escape the monstrous scream. Meanwhile, children of various ages swarmed through our netted box of colors. Thin, multicolored, punching-bag-esque blocks hung from the ceiling of the “room” that the children were gladly punching furiously or trying to climb to touch the top of the place. A cacophony of noise was all around, there was screaming, crying, laughing, shouting, and the air was pungent with the smell of sweaty skin and, what I believed to be, fart.
We uncovered our ears once the volume was at an acceptable rate, which, in this place, meant speaking at near shouting range.
“Damn it’s loud in here. Oh shit, I–no, shit…no! I…shit…”
This time she laughed. Really laughed. It was a warm, playful sound with the high pitch expected in someone her age. A tiny, ironic smile wormed it’s way around my face. Even when I wasn’t trying I could still make people laugh. But I wasn’t going to complain. Like I said; angles singing.
Her laugh faded into periodic giggles when she asked; “Why do you want to marry her?”
The question took me a little off guard, and I suddenly felt the weight of the ring in my pocket again. Of course, I want to do it because I’m in love with her. I want to keep her strength and spirit in my life. I want to keep her warm smile and loving hugs. She makes me feel like I can do anything, and I want that in every moment that I’m living. I also want to do it because I need to save what we have. Lately things have been…getting complicated. I don’t want to lose this, I can’t. The ring in my pocket is my saving grace.
That’s a lot for a kid to understand though, so, after a pause, I shrugged and said; “Because I love her.”
She seemed to dwell on that. Her eyes drifted downward and her head tilted to the side in a thoughtful way. She looked back up at me and asked; “What’s that like?”
Jeez…How does anyone explain it in words? Especially to a nine-year-old.
I took in a deep breath and blew it out through my lips, then said, smiling hesitantly; “You’ll learn when you’re older.”
She rolled her eyes and said; “My parents say that all the time!”
“Well…some things you–just–can’t understand until your older.”
“Why?”
“The heck if I know.”
A kid landed hard next to me at that moment and rolled into a square hole at the corner of the place, laughing the whole way. Another kid, his friend I assumed, chased after him by jumping into the hole. I picked an interesting place to have a conversation like this. Still, I didn’t have much other choice. At least, not one as comfortable as here (for all its flaws).
“Hey! Don’t do that! You hear me! No Rolling Down The Holes!” The voice came from the square hole and it carried through the rest of the place. I felt the little girl stiffen in fear next to me. It was a harsh voice in that tone, and it even made me feel intimidated. Then a shrill of fear coursed through my body; it did sound pretty close to Patrick’s voice, and if it was him then I was screwed.
A head poked through the hole. A head with wily red hair instead of pitch black. Round, goofy eyes instead of sharp. And his jaw couldn’t even cut through water, whereas Patrick’s would flat-out split an ocean in two.
No. As bad as it would’ve been if Patrick found me here, this was in some ways worse. This was Roddy Benstein; trampoline enthusiast and the ultimate suck-up.
“He’s Here!” He exclaimed when he saw me. Though he doesn’t have the chin, his voice could blow up a mansion if taken at the right frequency. It cut through the energetic noise of the park, even startling me, and I felt the girl flinch at my side. “I Found Him! He’s here…!” Roddy’s voice faded into the discordance as he disappeared back to where he came from, and I knew I needed to get the hell out of there.
“Time to go! Good talk kid!” I leapt up, clutching the ring-box in my pocket. It had a smooth, silky feel to it; which I found oddly comforting. Before I could get far, I felt an abrupt drag on the arm of my jacket.
“Hold on!” The girl said. “Go that way!”
She indicated the hole Roddy had peeked his head out from. I felt a mixture of confusion and frustration toward her and, in part, at myself for listening. I should be going! I don’t have time to listen to a kid!
“Look I appreciate it but I don’t have time for this! I have to–“
“IT’S A SHORT CUT!”
Things suddenly went quiet around us, her voice reverberating throughout the grounds. You’d think my ears would be used to being pierced by any kind of noise by this point. They’re not.
She cleared her throat. “Sorry, I get easily annoyed when someone doesn’t listen. It’s a short cut.”
“What?” I asked as the noise picked back up, the silence barely lasting a second, and dropped my palms from my ears.
“It’s a short cut! It’ll take you to the ground quicker!”
“Roddy…the red-haired guy…he came up that way! Wouldn’t the others too?”
“I’ll make a distraction!” She said with a sly smile. “Go, Go!”
She dashed away toward one of the side exits, taking her to another segment of the playground.
“What–Hey! You’re Not…” She’s gone.
Okay. Quick stock of my situation. I’m in an indoor trampoline park to ask my coworker girlfriend to marry me, but got chased into the kids playground by my psychotic and jealous manager. But now I’ve been found and I’m standing stiff as Patrick and his cronies come to get me and the little girl I’ve been conversing with for the past…however long it’s been, has just taken off to “distract” them.
What a day…
I quickly decided to roll with it and ran to the square hole. May has the closing shift, about four-a-clock to eleven-a-clock. My shift ended about an hour ago, at the least anyway. If that’s the case, depending on what traffic is like (usually pretty terrible) it should take her forty or fifty minutes to get here. Once I’m out of the playground, I’ll find another place to hide until she arrives at the park. Then I’ll pop the question and give Patrick a solid middle-finger as we walk off into the sunset together. First things first; hide. And, as risky as it is, I think I know a place to go for that. I approached the hole and jumped…
And got down to waist length before landing on the next segment of the tunnel.
Right, this is a kids playground.
I squatted down to my knees and pulled my upper body down through the hole to meet the rest of me. The next hole was directly in front of me and I squirmed toward it, letting myself slide down the tunnel like a slug sliming its way over some jagged rocks. Something that I didn’t consider is that, at an angle anyways, the slug probably wouldn’t slide over the rocks, it’d tumble down them. Once I slid into the next segment I instantly fell into the next one, and then the next one, and then the next one! On my way down I crashed into some kids making their way up the tunnel and we all fell to the base of the playground together. I untangled myself from them and then apologized several times as they started to climb up again, shooting me dirty looks and even flipping me off. I felt a little ashamed but also a little annoyed; I mean, what good parent allows their child to flip the bird to someone? I picked myself up, shrugging off the incident. I was in an entryway of the playground, two wiry walls extended before me with a netted ceiling and a cushiony, blue floor mat. I looked up and saw little else than faint outlines of children crisscrossing in a chaotic mess through cloth-lined surfaces.
“Okay,” I said, adjusting my jacket and shirt more comfortably. “Let’s get to the maze.”
The Jump-Zone was a massive, multi-sectioned indoor park with shades of various colors illuminated by ceiling lights. I could see the Battle-Pit just to the left of me and straight-on towards the other end of the park was the actual trampoline park; a series of raised platforms arranged in a Super Mario Bros mini-game way. I started for the left, towards the trampoline maze.
“Nathan…STOP!” An out-of-breath voice called out and startled me. A large woman wearing the traditional blue vest and orange t-shirt that most employees at the park wear stopped right in front of me, keeping me from moving any further. She hunched forward and grabbed her knees, panting furiously. I actually knew who this was, it was Jen! She gave me and May a Valentines box of condoms for our one year anniversary (we started dating on Valentines, and needless to say I don’t think any of us laughed so hard in our lives when she gave us that box).
“Jen? Are you okay?” I asked with genuine worry. She wasn’t one for a work out, she was easily the most easygoing and sensitive person I’d ever known. And I thought she was going to cough out her lungs she was panting so hard.
“No! Freaking Patrick…had me check this side of the…place…to see if you escaped…” A hard coughing fit kept her from saying any more.
“Where were you when he told you to do that?” I asked.
“AT THE ROCK CLIMBING WALL…”
“Are you kidding me!?”
“No. I tried to suggest someone else, but apparently everyone’s either searching the playground or taking care of a kid that broke her leg.”
A kid that broke her leg? Wait…
“And,” She continued. “Apparently, I could use the ‘exercise’.”
My jaw dropped. “What a prick!”
She nodded agreeably and said; “I saw you coming out of this entrance and booked it!”
“Come on, Jen, don’t do this. I just want to be with May.”
“I know, but what do you want me to do? I don’t do this, I get fired, and then I’ll have a mountain debt and bills to pay off.”
“Jennifer!” Roddy projected as he ran up to us. “Bring him to Patrick already!”
“You know what Benny,” I said, tired of this guy and tired of his boss. “You might as well have sex with the guy with how much you’re already sucking up to him!”
“Screw you, asshole! And Stop Calling Me BENNY!”
“Stop! Both of You!” Jen stepped slightly between us, not quite settling into the middle-man but nearing it. “You know what, Roddy? Why should I?”
“What do you mean why should you? Survowski–“
“Is a pretentious prick and the only thing that’s kept me here is Nate and May and Sylvie,” The last one was the cafeteria dishwasher. She’s pretty cool. “Since day one he has done nothing but shame me for my size and I’ve had to watch as he disrespected everyone around me with the same amount of sneer. And you absolutely suck up to him as it all happens! You’re a lousy bootlicker and a weasel! I’m going to help with that kid and then I’m going to go home and binge Bridgerton with a box of my favorite cupcakes!”
And with that, she made to leave. But not before turning to me and asking quietly; “Do you and May need more…y’know…”
“I mean…y-yes…?”
She winked and took off. There was energy and confidence in the way she strutted towards the medical center that somewhat eased my concerns over her supposed mountains of debt and bills. I’m pretty sure she had children too. Still, knowing Jen, she’d probably be fine. Though May will be sad to hear she left.
I watched her go, stunned and awed by her display. Then I slowly became aware of Roddy giving me the evil eye from my periphery. He raised his eyebrows and perked his lips at me in a mocking, ‘dare you to…’ way.
“Benstein! What’re you doing!?”
There it is. The voice of the devil himself. I turned to see a looming figure with stark black hair looking down at us from one of the upper levels of the playground. He was actually on his knees because the space was too small for his size. And I think he had to hunch down a little as his head seemed disproportionately close to his shoulders. I stifled a laugh but I don’t think I could contain the grin.
“Bring him to me!” Patrick commanded. “No! Actually, keep him there! I’m coming!”
No better cue to leave. While Roddy was distracted by the orders of his master, I booked it anywhere that wasn’t his or Patrick’s general vicinity.
“Nathaniel Cleaver, You get back here!” Roddy screamed from behind me.
I weaved through crowds of people, all of whom were eying me strangely as we ran past. It was probably a little odd to watch the employees of the place chase each other around like this. In fact, this probably won’t look good for the business. But I’m not stopping, and Patrick definitely isn’t going to stop either. So I continued to run, looking for any way to surpass Roddy. I ascended a ramp that led to a large obstacle course full of colored balls; obstacles (of course); and a ludicrous horde of children. I could perhaps lose him in the courses ball pit, but it doesn’t go very deep, and I don’t want to risk getting stomped on by an army of hellions.
When I looked to my left, I briefly paused where I was, which was, I think, about halfway across the ascended floor of the park. What I was thinking probably wouldn’t work, but either way it wouldn’t be good for Roddy since the pit of foamy squares surrounding the Battle-Pit were definitely deep enough. I ran to the railing and leaped over them Spider-Man style, then I gunned it for the Battle-Pit. I think Roddy jumped over the railing as well, not before yelling an obscenity at me of course, and then I heard his projective tone behind me bellow “OW! DAMMIT!” The urge to look back was hard to resist but I resisted, and either way I grinned a very satisfied grin.
The Battle-Pit is a fifteen-diameter pit filled with blocks of foam that come in shades of purple, blue, and black. That might be the first thing someone sees, the second would be the walkways meeting the edge of the pit that also act as supports for a thin, red beam. There’s enough foot-room on the beam that one could potentially stand on it without having to wave their arms for balance. A person trying to stand on it while avoiding being hit by their opponents advances, however, that’s a different story.
I ran up the walkway and slipped on the most well-fitting pieces of armor that I could, all while moving across the beam to the other side. Definitely not an easy thing to do, but I have surprisingly good balance. And it’s worth it; the war staffs look like they could knock a gorilla out cold. I grabbed one on the other side of the pit, a large, double-sided staff with red, matty surfaces on both ends. Still fitting into my armor (trying to put on safety gear while keeping balance on thin land was like trying to tend a relentless migraine), and turned to see Roddy all armored up and ready with his own weapon.
“You sure you want to play this game Cleaver?” Roddy asked condescendingly from the other side. “Everyone knows you stink at this. You couldn’t even beat Sylvie!”
“That’s not fair! Sylvie spends all day juggling dishes, the girl has the agility of a puma! She’s also…shockingly strong.”
Truth be told though I can’t beat anyone in the Battle-Pit for the life of me. But, as much as I’m going to try my damndest to best Roddy at this, either way I’ll still win.
I slipped on my helmet, which felt uncomfortably tight around my head, but I dealt with it and walked across the thin plank, stopping halfway. Roddy did likewise, shaking his head with a cocky smile. The jackass is almost as arrogant as Patrick.
We were about four metres from each other when he met me at the center of the plank. I could see in the background that some parents, as well as children and teens, were dumbfounded by the display. Some others seemed to be eagerly anticipating the show. We both took stances and I made the first strike towards his chest, lunging it forward like a javelin. He parried it to the side in one fluid motion with the bottom end of his weapon (technically there are no “ends” on these things, but I’ve gotta put it in a way that makes sense, right). When he fell back into stance, he instantly followed with a swing to my head. It was like my noggin got blasted by a gust of wind, and it caused me to lose a bit of balance. Roddy tried taking this opportunity and swung the other end of his weapon towards my back, likely hoping to topple me off into the sea of foam below. But I swung my leg in the opposite direction to get some leverage and kept my weapon in the air for balances sake. I pulled of the maneuver, Roddy’s weapon barely even grazing me, but when I had all two feet back on the plank I had to do some major stationary gymnastics to keep myself from falling over. I know that it’s just foam blocks beneath me, but I might as well have been staring down a chasm of horror. I nearly fell forward and I got a good look at the distance between me and the foam pit; it was high. Then, for one second, my gut dropped to my feet when I found myself having to find orientation so I don’t fall backwards. I hate falling into something backwards, I never know what to expect. I have eyes at the front of my head not back (though some back-of-head eyeballs would be pretty handy). I did manage to reorient myself, and I faced Roddy again with a determination that was fueled by both my pride and my fear that I would still be here when May came for work.
“Take him down, Benstein!” I heard Patrick’s crisp and deep voice from my right.
I glanced to see him leaning on the railing that surrounds the Battle-pit with two other cronies. I think one of them was Dennis, a lanky high-school kid that rotates between duties at the climbing wall, the playground, and the trampoline maze. And, to the other side of Patrick, was a petite girl with brown, flowy hair. Her features helped me to instantly recognize her as Sylvie, and I wondered what she was doing there. Then my heart dropped to the center of the Earth with the realization; that prickly bastard roped our sweet summer child into this mess!
Something crashed into the side of my face. the helmet assisted in blocking the impact, but I still found myself a little dazed and confused. Roddy had taken an opportunity to whack me while I was distracted.
“Give Up Cleaver!” Patrick yelled.
“Pay attention dumbass.” Roddy sneered at me.
“Just Fall Down And STAY Down!”
I’ve had it; “SCREW BOTH OF YOU!”
Yelling helped to clear my head, and as much as it pains me to give them credit, Roddy and Patrick also helped me to regain my focus. And once I did, I performed an epic triple spin where I lashed out at Roddy with my weapon every time I circled back to him. It’s a maneuver that’s meant to stun more than it is to completely outwit my opponent (and I totally didn’t make it up on the spot). It worked exceptionally well; Roddy tripped over and nearly fell off the beam. But by the grace that came from right out of nowhere, he latched on to the beam and hung for several seconds before pulling himself up and striking a balance on it again. His feet didn’t even graze a single block.
“Damn,” Roddy said. “That was actually good!”
“DON’T ENCOURAGE HIM YOU IDIOT!” Patrick chimed in.
Roddy went red and timid. These two really deserve each other.
On the plus side, Roddy’s weapon fell into the pit, so now I’ve got him at a disadvantage. A ball of light rose in my chest like the morning sun; my chances of winning this stupid thing for the first time ever have been higher than they ever have been before. This suck-up is mine!
I swung at his head for a little revenge topping my success, but he ducked down, maintaining balance, inched forward, shot himself up and kicked me flying onto my back, bouncing off the beam, and falling into the foam pit.
My world blacked out, with bobs of light peering through the cloud of black and purple and blue. The adrenaline rush from the days events still kept my blood flowing faster than a sports-car, but I also felt exhausted and a little winded from, once again, an utter defeat in the Battle-Pit (WHEN I WAS SO DAMN CLOSE!!). Overall, as much as I wanted to keep going, part of me welcomed the comfort of being swallowed up in this chasm of foam, their synthetic smell providing a strange sort of nostalgia.
“Go! Get Him Out!” The voice was slightly muffled but I still recognized it as Patrick’s. As much as my body pleaded for a break, I needed to move. Hopefully this brief period of relaxation will do me some kind of favor.
I I stole a glance above the line of foam and saw that Roddy was wading through it to find me. Patrick was standing on the edge of the pit, watching intently. I noted that Sylvie and Dennis stood a few feet behind him, one or both looking nervous and showing it by pacing or lacing and unlacing their fingers. I dropped my head down and began to Burrow under the foam. A neat little trick I learned as a kid was the uncanny ability to be anywhere I wanted in a ball pit. Granted, I was in a foam-block pit, which did require alternate movements that slowed me down a little, but it didn’t make too much of a difference.
I don’t think this part will be as fun from my perspective, since I mostly did a lot of mole-digging during this time, so I’m going to give my best approximation of what Roddy was thinking while swimming around the pit in search of what would be his eventual doom:
He felt pride from beating the one called Cleaver. The fool thought he could beat the best there is at Battle-Pit, but no one can beat Roddy KissAss at the game. Except for May Holland. And Dennis Jones. Maybe even Sylvie lucas. And of course Patrick Survowski would beat him, he’s the greatest there ever was! One day, he’ll be assistant manager. Maybe then Patrick will see his unfettered potential and be so blinded by it that he’ll immediately make him the head manager. Then he’ll continue to kiss his way up the ladder even further until he’s CEO of the world’s weirdest trampoline park. Surely no one will deny him if he tells his…”superiors” exactly what they want to hear. He cringed at the word. No one was more superior than Roddy The Absolute Greatest Bestest Superior Man In The Whole Wide World. He would get Cleaver and then his hero Crazy Survowski will give him the attention he deserves. However, Roddy LegHumper was too lost in his thoughts to see a disturbance among the foam blocks. Something beneath them was slithering toward him. A great danger that was about to eat him whole. When he finally focused after being told to by Master Survowski, he saw the motion of the blocks; he saw that something was coming toward him. Roddy became very scared, he wanted to go back to his master standing on the edge of the pit. He would protect him, he knew it. But Roddy BootLicker stood his ground and commanded the creature, who he suspected was the Cleaver, to halt. It didn’t. It kept moving apropos. He told it to stop, backing away as he did. But it kept coming. Master Survowski told him to go get it. To wrestle it to death. So Roddy stayed where he was and waited for the Cleaver to come to him. It came closer, and closer, and Closer, And Closer, AND CLOSER! Roddy screamed in terror…but nothing happened. Where did it go? Master Survowski commanded Roddy to pull himself together and find the creature so he could have it for dinner and mount it’s head on his wall. Roddy obeyed and tried to find where the creature went. He then felt something on his leg, a pair of hands. He screamed as he was dragged under the sea of foam, never to be seen again.
A minute later I emerged from the pit, elation filling my chest. Roddy won’t be slowed down for long, but I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t deliciously satisfying. I felt the grin on my face stretch up to my ears and puffs of giggling escape my throat. Roddy KissAss is no more.
“YOU!” A roar from the other side of the pit. Patrick locked his eyes on me and commanded the others to follow him as he began running around the Battle-Pit to me. Kiss-ass down, psycho manager next. I picked myself up and bolted for the Trampoline Maze. I jumped down the incline leading to the Battle-Pit, not minding the stairs for brevity’s sake. I landed a little harder than I expected, using both my hands to stabilize myself, but I immediately springed forward. The falter annoyed me, but I was perfectly ahead of Patrick enough for it not to be too much of a problem. I still managed to weave through crowds of people coming in and out of the cafeteria, a relatively small space with typical red tables and chairs lined up in several rows near the serving window.
The cafeteria has it’s own manager that despises Patrick for the same reasons that everyone else does. Which is why it boggles me that he somehow managed to wrap poor Sylvie into this chaos. The sense of warmth and familiarity from the times spent unwinding with my coworkers, with May, in the cafeteria came and went as I ran past it to an absurdly long line of people protruding out of a depression in the walls; the entrance to the maze.
The trampoline maze is exactly what the name suggests; a labyrinth of trampolines that either leads to the exit, or a dead end. Somewhere in the maze is a ball-pit with a pillar erecting from the center. I could hide in the pit or at the very top of the pillar, either way I have a good chance of escaping them, Roddy finding me in the play-place was just dumb-luck. I scooted past some kids and their parents waiting in line, ignoring their annoyed expressions, and high-tailed it to the entrance.
“Whoah! Hold on, bud!” The guy working at the maze entrance stopped me, he had dreadlocks hanging down to his elbows, a pointed nose, and deep blue eyes. They were kind eyes, though I noticed the annoyance in them. “If you want to get in your going to need to get in line.” I didn’t know his name, I knew he worked here, but not much beyond that.
“Look,” I said. “I work here, and Crazy Survowski is right behind me!”
“Survowski? Manager Survowski?” He careened his head out inquisitively, trying to get a lock on Patrick; who I knew was getting too close for comfort every second I wasted there. So while dreadlocks was distracted, I shoved past him and into the maze. I heard him calling out for me and then go suddenly silent when a new voice rang out:
“Come Back Here You Slippery Little Bastard!”
Yup, that’s Patrick.
The second I entered the maze I was flooded with neon colors that brightened up my shirt and distinctive features of my jacket and shoes. I almost tripped over myself before my brain could register that I was walking on trampolines now. I was able to recognize that and right myself before fumbling over. Once I got used to the environmental shift I started jumping to my destination, but Patrick and his cronies weren’t too far behind.
“You Can’t Run Forever Cleaver!” Patrick bellowed from behind me.
Without turning my head I gave him a double-handed middle-finger and tried to pick up the pace as best I could. Trampolines lined almost every portion of the mazes corridors, I tried using them to gain more momentum but instead ended up with my brain spinning around in my skull and bruised arms, which were doing a circus show around my body as I jumped and, later, ran through the maze. The kids in the maze eyed me and the others questioningly as I leapt, ran, and fumbled my way to the ball-pit.
I was running across trampolines, Patrick following suit, his lackies looking more tired than even me, when the corridor made a sharp turn to the right. When I reached the wall I leapt onto the trampoline against it and pushed myself forward. And then braced myself for the impact of my lanky body against the trampoline floor. Has anyone ever jumped on a trampoline and found themselves not only breathing heavily but soar and a bit bruised when they got off? Yeah, that was me in the maze.
Patrick then came charging up and leapt onto the wall, pushed off, and even did a front flip right over me and landed perfectly. Sorta; he had to squat down to catch himself from tasting the rubbery surface of the trampoline like I did. But regardless, he succeeded in both making me look like a chump and cutting me off from moving further.
He raised his hands triumphantly and looked at me in a way that made my gut quiver and my bones rattle. He’s got me.
Unless…
I sprung forward before he could do anything else and slid between his legs. The next thing he knew, I’m taking off down the corridor, laughing mischievously.
“You slippery TWIT!” I heard him bellow from behind.
I made another right turn that lead me to a diverging corridor, which, from my many adventures in the maze with May, I know is a dead-end. So I keep going. I followed the main corridor as it takes me left and then left again down a long way. I’m getting tired by now, but I still hear Patrick behind me. I risk a peak behind in time to see Dennis collapse to the floor and Patrick glance back to yell “Weak!” at him, not even stopping his pursuit. Sylvie’s still going strong, in fact, if she wanted to, I think she could catch me right now and this whole thing would be over and done with. If she wanted to.
My heart was pumping so fast and hard I could feel it in my chest, and the sweat on my back clung to the cloth of my shirt, but I continued forward. Making another left turn that, again, had a diverging corridor that just leads to a window overlooking the ball pit. I jumped past, turning left again, then right twice and making another left down another long one.
“What’re you going to do when we get there Cleaver?” Patrick mocks from behind. “Throw balls at us? Climb the pillar? Face it, you can’t get away from me so just STOP!”
I want to bite back but my breath is too shallow, my lungs are stretching themselves just to get oxygen in. I need to stop. But if I do now, I’m screwed. I have to be close, I think I am.
Left. Left again. Right…
And there it is. The entrance to the pit. Beyond the hole that leads into the pit was a rising, red pillar with distinctive shapes on it. The floor of the room was a big mass of color separated into round shapes that made up the whole surface. I could see other kids inside, splashing around in the balls and throwing them at friends.
“Don’t even think it Cleaver!” Patrick yelled behind me, a sense of warning behind his voice.
“Too late.” I whispered. I didn’t have the strength to yell. But I did have enough to leap and plunge myself into the pit.
My vision became a cloud of reds, yellows, greens, blues, and purples. My skin felt hot from the exertion but I could feel the balls rubbing against me, cooling me down and acting as a strange sort of bed to relax in. I breathed in the rubbery scent of the pit, letting myself; my exhaustion, my stress; fade into the balls. It felt good to finally be somewhere safe.
But it didn’t last. I felt a disturbance in the pit, which I immediately knew was Patrick and Sylvie. I faintly heard him barking orders at her, and I began moving towards the pillar. It was much easier to wade through a pit of plastic balls as opposed to foam triangles. Some people I’ve revealed my little talent to, including May, thought that it would work otherwise. But I guess I’m just more practiced in ball pits (I was in a LOT of them as a kid).
I swam in the direction of the pillar, at least I hoped I was swimming in the right direction, watching out for the kids already in the pit. But I must’ve made some sort of sign on the surface, a shift among balls or something, because I felt a strong and determined pair of hands wrap around my leg and pull me out from the comfort of the balls. I thrashed like a fish out of water, my stomach filled with dread and anger. I’ve been found.
I heard Patrick call out faintly; “I got him! Help Me!”
In all likelihood, he’s calling for Sylvie. When no other hands grab me I assume that no other help comes.
“Help me, dammit!” He growled, which probably only made Sylvie more nervous. Sylvie was always a shy one, it’s easy to guess that she was pretty sheltered. I can’t imagine what must have been racing through her head at the moment. Clearly it was all too much because I never felt any hands, and I assumed she locked up and just stood staring.
“Help Me You Useless Little SHIT!”
That sent my blood from a full boil to erupting.
I poured all my anger into one thrust of my left leg into his crotch. The force of his hands around my right leg suddenly vanished and it dropped back into the pit. I felt at ease with its liberation. I stood up out of the pit, the sea of balls coming up to my thighs, and saw Patrick buried under the them in an almost-fetal-position. The kids that were playing were either leaving or looking at us weirdly. I looked to Sylvie. Poor thing was on the verge of tears; her eyes were red and she was mushing her upper and lower lip together, clenching her jaw as hard as she could. Perhaps all to stop her lips from quivering, which, of course, was to no avail. I trudged through the pit over to her and brought her into a big hug. After a long moment, I pulled back and told her to return to the cafeteria.
“You know what?” I mused. “Actually, just go home. Go home and relax, okay?”
“I’ll ask Dan if that’s okay.” She said, nodding and with a shaky voice, then she waded towards the exit. She vanished around a corner of the corridor. There are two things that most employees of the Jump-Zone can agree on: Patrick’s an ass and all we have is each other.
I swerve around to Patrick, who seems to be starting to come back from having his Jimmies obliterated. Between standing in my way of being with May, how he’s treated me and everyone else in this cursed place, and calling Sylvie a ‘shit’. I’d had it.
I trudged to the pillar and climbed. Most of the kids went back to playing but I could feel their wariness on me. I climbed all the way to the top. I felt a little dizzy when I got there, every moment I spent moving I lost more and more energy. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone were to tell me that I was running on fumes. Lifting myself up the pillar felt like lifting an anvil; heavy and exhausting. But I made it, and when I did I looked down at Patrick.
“I’m gonna kill him…” I heard him whisper as he lifted himself out of the pit like a monster out of a swamp. “I’m gonna bury him alive and piss on his grave…”
“YOU FIRST JACKASS!” I cried from the top of the pillar. He turned his angry, deep eyes toward me. Then they sank with despair as he saw what was coming. I relished the look on his face before I jumped; off of the pillar and falling right on top of him.
One moment I was hanging free in the air, which was whooshing past my face and through my clothes. It was a moment of complete freedom that somehow made me feel more alive then I really was, the exhaustion wasn’t gone; it just didn’t matter anymore. Then I landed on top of Patrick. His weight gave out under me and we both sank beneath the sea of plastic. He was turning to get away, and I felt my forehead bash against the back of his, my hands grasped onto his shoulders and I felt my shoes scrape against the skin of his back. The second we were submerged I pushed away and swam as far from him as possible.
I emerged minutes later near the exit. My head felt like it’d been cracked against stone and a headache was beginning to form, and my ribs ached a little from bone colliding with bone. Aside from that I guess I was mostly fine. Just meet up with May, drop the question, and we’ll take a long nap together. Or, most likely, we’ll binge watch something; our way of celebrating special occasions is like watching a cat play with a toy; there’s nothing much to it but it’s fun for the ones involved.
The kids were staring, mouths agape. The pit was mostly empty then but the few that remained were dumbstruck. When I’d gotten to the edge of the exit, tired and getting hungry on top of everything, I reached into my pocket to feel the ring case. It felt good having it in my palm, my fingers wrapped around the velvet. It felt good knowing what this was all leading up to, and that all of this exhaustion will be worth it. I reached into my pocket…and felt nothing.
Then a burst of plastic balls behind me, and Patrick screaming with animalistic vigor. It was a sound that a caged lion or a cornered bear would make. An angry, desperate sound. And I swear I could feel my soul quivering as I turned toward him and stood paralyzed. He was mad.
Then he laughed. maniacal and sinister. I was completely put off by it, and more than a little terrified. Then he raised his hand, and in his palm was the case. He showed it off to me mockingly, like a school bully would to a kid whose toy he’d taken. He was showing it off to me like I was a lesser thing than him. Like he deserved May more than I ever did. Like she belongs to him. I was still plenty scared, but it was tampered by pure and simple anger. Anger, fear, frustration, hate. The perfect mix to send me flying towards him, screaming with utter ferocity; “GIVE THAT BACK YOU GODDAMN ASSHOLE!”
He clutched the case and darted back to the entrance. A kid had stood in his way but he knocked them down and pushed forward. I ignored them and followed down the corridor. By the time I’d reached the entranceway, though, and hoisted myself out of the pit, he was almost out of sight, which just sent the furnace inside me flaring to uncontrollable proportions and I launched myself forward to catch him. I stormed all the way out of the maze; pushing and shoving away anyone in my way. That asshole has my ring and he’s not going to get away with it! He’s not going to get away with taking away the most important thing to me!
I emerged out of the maze entrance to some annoyed people, the blue-eyed guy with dreadlocks in particular. He called me out and said I was in big trouble when he got off shift. Whatever, I had bigger things to worry about.
By this point the whole park was aware of the fiasco happening with the employees, and I swear I think there were fewer families in the place. The noise had become lighter, though still loud, and the people became more sparse, though still filling up the building. Maybe we’d reached a particularly slow hour, even though the specific day everything happened was usually exhaustingly busy. Whatever the case, Patrick was out there with my future-in-a-box. Through a hole in the crowd, I saw a familiar, brightly colored vest adorning an equally familiar stature; tall, graceful, intimidating. Clutching my teeth, I ran through the crowd, even knocking some people over. Which earned me some insults and mockery. A part of myself told me to just slow down, to just stop and think. But it was a faint sound beneath a wave of determination; the bad guy was making off with the thing that’ll save what I had with the most important person in the world to me.
Cutting through crowds, screaming out Patrick’s name and getting nothing in return, feeling the weight of my exhaustion in my eyes, in my gut; which felt like a burning building, flames licking up my intestines and turning my lungs into charcoal; picking up my feet even though my heels are sore and every pound of the sole of my shoe sent a wave of pain through my already aching mind. Feeling the longing in my chest for something as good as May, to just sit down with her and eat our favorite ice-cream while talking about our favorite things, things we’ve already talked about a million times but never seemed to get tired of.
exhaustion was hitting me on all sides; mentally, physically, emotionally. I saw Patrick enter the trampoline platforms before I fell over. Catching myself with my hands but feeling saliva fall over my lips and onto the floor directly in front of me.
Just a few moments…just a few moments of rest, that’s all I need.
“Hey. Are you okay!” A man’s concerned voice cut through the fog.
“Just…need…a minute…” I said groggily.
“Jeez, it’s that easy to get exhausted in this place, eh? Here drink up.”
I felt a gentle arm pull me up and a round hole dig into my lips. I leaned my head back and felt a cool, relaxing sensation spill into my mouth and down my throat. I felt it spread throughout my torso, filling in the holes left by my exhaustion. My hands clutched the bottle and I spilled and spilled the water down my gullet.
“Okay okay, take it easy,” said the man, easing my intake by holding the bottle.
“Sorry.” I said weakly after drinking the whole bottle.
“It’s fine, my wife has some more.” His voice had a sensitive pitch and he had a kind face. Of course, that could’ve just been what I wanted to see. A guardian angel come to pick me up and send me on my way. Still, he did help me, and when I felt good enough to get back to it I thanked him and tried to catch up to Patrick.
“Whoa! Hold on!” He said, holding my shoulder. “You still look terrible. What’s the rush?”
“I have to get to the Platforms to catch my psycho manager who stole the ring I bought for my girlfriend, who also works here.”
“Oh. Is that all?”
I gave him a wry look.
“I’m just kidding, I’m just kidding. If I can’t stop you I won’t. Go on and get that guy! AND CONGRATULATIONS!”
I was gone by the time he said “go on.”
A black-wire fence separates the Platforms from the rest of the park and it reaches from floor to ceiling. Beyond it are four levels of trampolines that have plastic balls scattered all over them (no, the plastic nightmare never ends, not in this place). Each level is higher than the last, creating a sort of intrigue towards what differentiates each one (nothing) and a desire in people, especially groups, to race towards the top. I entered through the large square gap in the fencing and looked around for Patrick. A ring of trampolines surrounds the platforms, sort of the appetizer before the main course, and, as expected, a cacophony of children, adults, even teens are moving disproportionately all around me. Screams and laughs and cheers and cries invade my senses. And that damn sweat/fart smell persists!
I started scanning around for Patrick when I entered. Towards the base of the first platform I saw the black velvet box that contained the ring. I rushed to it and picked it up. Empty.
I began to feel more panicked than I already was when I couldn’t see him anywhere. I looked up to the uppermost trampoline platform and felt a plastic ball nail me in the eye. I lurch backward and cover a palm around my eye. There isn’t any real pain, but the shock of it caught me off guard. Blinking, I look to see Patrick’s maniacal grin as he stands on the edge of the top-most level. As soon as we lock eyes he quickly disappears out of my view, into the center of the platform.
The bastard’s toying with me!
I dash to the first platform and jump onto it. The higher someone goes the higher the platforms are, so by the time I reached the top level I had to clutch onto the edge and strain myself upwards, swinging my legs over to complete the process (I’m sure you know which one I’m talking about). When I got up, I almost didn’t see him for a second, somehow there aren’t as many people on this as the bottom, but there were still plenty enough to have made seeing him a challenge. When I did, his grin went toothy, his eyes sparkled with mischief, and he raised his hand, the ring itself clutched between two fingers. My gut sank beneath the earth when he reeled his arm back and threw the ring out into the masses.
There’s no telling where it could’ve gone, no way to know if someone picked it up and took it or if it fell into the void beneath the trampolines through the plastic flaps surrounding the edges of them. No way to know if it joined together a different couple; if it got pawned or sold for a more outrageous price than I payed; or if it joined heaven knows how much garbage lying beneath the park’s surface of joy and laughter. There couldn’t be any way to know, because every impulse in my body sent me flying toward him with all the malice and anger that he’d spurred within me over the past few years. Every spiteful remark and act of jealousy he ever showed me I returned by ramming into him quarterback style over the top level’s edge and down to the surface.
We landed and I was immediately sent back into the air, the freedom of the experience tampered by the stress of possibly hurting myself. Damn it, what was I thinking? I bounced a few more times, feeling the bruises beginning to form in my arms and elbows and knees and legs. When I finally stopped I lifted myself up. My arms were weak and I was breathing faster and harder than my mind could register. I took deep, long breaths to calm myself down. A part of me wanted to get up and pound that crazy asshole to pieces, but the more rational part of me knew that I was barely holding on. I was exhausted; physically, mentally, and emotionally.
The ring’s gone. I failed. I failed May. And myself.
A crowd of people surrounded me. Some asked if I was okay, others seemed to scold me for jumping. “What were you thinking?” “Do you need me to call the hospital?” You could’ve hurt yourself!” “Does anything hurt?”
“I’m fine…I’m fine…” I managed in a hoarse tone. Then I heard a loud groan next to me, and someone call out; “This Guy’s Leg Is Broken!”
I got myself on my knees and looked to see Patrick a few meters away, clutching his leg close to his chest. It seemed to be disproportionate from his knee, and when he touched it he screamed in pain. The man next to him told him to ‘hang in there’ as he got out his phone, which seemed counterintuitive at that point, since I noticed several others already on their phones. This just became a lot more than a feud between two idiot employees.
Seeing the pain on his face, the misery…I don’t forgive him for what he’s done, not by a long shot. But we both took it too far, and I’m still feeling the consequences.
He didn’t deserve the punishment I inflicted.
My mind and body wanted nothing more than to relax. Even with the ring gone, even with everything I had planned, I just wanted sleep. But, reluctantly, and weakly, I got up, limped over to him, and kneeled next to his leg.
“Get away from me!” He snarled.
“I can help you, asshole.” I said.
“I don’t need your help!”
“Look! May is a medical student, we both know that. I can help you.”
I actually didn’t know if I could. It was true that May’s a medical student, but I was largely disinterested in all that. I did once ask though how to replace a dislocated joint. She then began to tell me the details of how to do so. I listened with passive interest, but some of what she told me was coming back to me at the moment. I just didn’t know if it was enough to actually help him. It’s not exactly like the movies, I can’t just re-place the bone and expect everything to be okay. He needs a hospital.
I kept a straight face and said; “I’m not doing this because I like you, especially not after what you just did. But…damn me to hell…I can’t just leave you like this.”
Patrick looked at me with utter contempt. But then he seemed to relax after a long moment. His eyes scanned my face and they went from maliceful to accepting, while still bearing a tinge of that characteristic scorn.
“Just don’t pull anything.” He said.
“Tempting, but then you probably wouldn’t have a leg.” I said, taking hold of his leg and moving it around to find the socket.
He grunted and writhed in pain as I moved it around, careful not to cause any more damage. When I found the correct place, I pushed it inward. An unsettling snap sounded from his leg, and he screamed out like a wounded animal. He pushed me off and examined his leg. Then he tried moving it, to which he winced, but it moved at his will. He got up with mine and the other man’s help. When he applied pressure, he grunted and recoiled his leg. He stuck with limping.
“He’s okay!” “This kid saved him!” “Why would he help him after tackling him in the first place?” These were of many voices that sounded out around me. A lot of people clapped and cheered, at which I cringed away from shyly. There were some who seemed to be baffled at everything that happened, which is fair. I could hardly believe it either. Most of my attention was on Patrick. He looked at me with caution, but there was…not really a softness, god forbid, but more like a curiousness. A wonder. Maybe gratitude, maybe pretention, who could tell with the guy.
Either way, police and ambulance were on their way. Whether either of us liked it or not, we were seeing the consequences of the day through together.
“Boss! Patrick!” A deep voice called from the entrance of the Platforms. It was the Kiss-ass, Roddy. “May’s here for her shift, she’s just getting out of her car!”
How the hell would he know that?
I looked to Patrick, who looked to me. I could feel my eyes as wide as his. I couldn’t tell if he was as torn as me though. I just helped him. That doesn’t make us friends, but does it at least mean we’re done with this whole charade.
I felt his muscly arm push me backward, and his presence disappeared as he sprinted out of the Platforms, dismaying everyone around. I took in the shock of the moment and it’s implications, and fury coursed throughout my body.
“You Freaking Asshole!” I bellowed.
I got up, brushed past the crowd, knocked Kiss-ass over, and followed him toward the front entrance of the Jump-Zone.
He was limping but pushing forward, like a wounded lion pushing all it’s might into a hard run. I couldn’t imagine how much pain he must’ve been in; I didn’t really care to know, though, because I wanted nothing more than to beat him to the lobby. We ran past the obstacle course, now with fewer kids. We ran past the Battle-Pit, which was now near empty; save for the two juveniles having a match on the beam. We ran past the cafeteria, which I only got a glimpse of since it’s built into the southern wall of the Zone, but I felt the warmth of joyful memories regardless. I ran past the giant gap serving as the park’s entrance-slash-exit. I stopped moving up the incline leading out of the park when I heard her voice, protestant and questioning. Crouching down beside the customer service desks, I listened.
“What are you talking about?” May asked furiously. When she was angry her voice took on a rougher texture, but it was still sweet and smooth like honey. It’s a sound I associated with all things good in the world.
“Don’t accept his proposal!” I heard Patrick say, once again taking the stance against me. Ass. “He’s not worth it, his arms and legs are too…gangly and…”
And…nothing. I could tell he was searching for words, which surprised the hell out of me. He always seemed to have a million perfectly condescending words for me in his head that he never hesitated to speak out.
“Okay, Patrick,” May said impatiently. “Just back up. Nate’s going to propose to me?”
That’s my cue.
The lobby was comparably mute to the park. The walls were painted in dark blue, the ceiling was white as snow, and the floor was soft and black with specks of color all over, though the specks were in a predictable pattern. I stood up and walked slowly towards her. No, I didn’t have a ring. But I had me. I think the reason why losing the ring, aside from Crazy Survowski being the one to cause it’s loss, was because I’d transferred all my hopes into it. I saw my future in the ring; a lovely, ethereal, transcendent future where all the happiness I ever could have hoped for was reflected to me in a polished surface. It’s gone though, but the hopes are still there. I was still there. The ring was just an item, a piece of tradition. It’s the person that she says yes to. No one piece of jewelry will sustain a love between two people, it’s far more complicated than that. I understood that enough to get up from my crouch and move my feet.
“He’s an idiot,” Patrick said, finding his disdainful footing. Ass. “He can’t get things done the same way I can. He can’t take care of you the same way I–”
“May?” I said softly, cutting Patrick off.
She turned to me with the face I associated with all things good in the world. Deep brown eyes and light skin with a dainty nose and thin lips, all framed by glowing gold hair that pairs beautifully with her voice.
“Nate?” She said questioningly. Nervously.
I wasn’t one to blame her, I was feeling about the same things she probably was.
I struggled to get any words out so I pulled off the band-aid and got down on one knee, hoping it would help.
She sucked in a deep, sharp breath and began twisting her hands around each other like she does when she’s anxious.
With the hard part done, I felt a little more comfortable getting the words out.
“May. You’re…” I coughed out a nervous laugh. So hard, yet so wonderful. “You’re so much of what I wish I was. Smart, kind, funny…”
“You’re plenty of those things too, Nate.” She whispered, eyes closed tight.
“Yeah well…not like you.” I continued when she opened her eyes. “You’ve given my life so much light, so much hope. Whether it’s a warm hug or a reassuring, albeit stubborn, conversation…” She smiled there, one more association. “You’ve done so much for me. And I can only hope to return the favor by being a good husband. May Holland, will you marry me?”
My heart was doing laps around my chest, and my gut felt like it was going to burst. The anticipation didn’t help with any of that. The words felt especially odd coming out of my mouth. Not in a good way or a bad way, just, a way. They leaked out of me like water out of a bucket, and made me feel happy, refreshed, less exhausted as the days events had left me. I watched her with hope and glee. She didn’t respond immediately, in fact, she looked torn, miserable.
“I…” She managed, voice cracking. “…no.” Tears came down her face without remorse. She said it so sure, so final. I didn’t want to believe it then, I couldn’t. But it was there; it was what she wanted.
“I’m sorry Nate,” she said with a strained voice. “It’s just…not like how it used to be between us. Maybe it’s my fault, maybe it’s yours. Maybe it’s no ones, I don’t know! I just know that…this isn’t what I want. And I have an opportunity for a life I’ve wanted for so long, one that you know I have worked so hard to get.”
The light inside turned into a dark cloud. All those hopes now raindrops carried away in a gust of wind. I felt my eyes burn and my breath turn shallow. My heart stopped doing laps, might’ve just stopped beating altogether, with the tightening of my chest. Worst of all; I felt lost. So lost. Alone. No boat or paddle to keep me afloat, I was being torn apart in a tidal wave with no hope of salvation.
“I’m so, so, sorry Nate.” She said, voice weak but carrying that finality, that sureness, which was tearing me to pieces. “But no.”
I couldn’t hear that word again. I got up to my feet and stormed past her, past Patrick, who just stood watching with no discernable expression, and to the doors. “Nate…” I heard her say softly, but she didn’t do anything else to stop me. Nothing else to indicate that she wanted any differently.
The police and ambulance were just arriving, but I couldn’t deal with any of that. Not now. I turned and walked hurriedly down the sidewalk, following it to the polar opposite side of the building.
The air was cool and soft, which felt nice but it didn’t help me much, especially since my eyes were full of tears by the time I got halfway around the complex, and the air made them feel like melting ice falling down my face. Clouds of pure white dotted the blue sky, and the leaves of trees reflected the sunlight. I couldn’t help but feel like I was sticking out, a black spot in a fertile field. It was a dumb, minor thought, but it carried its own weight. I continued following the sidewalk to my destination: a bench in front of a small ice-cream parlor that May and I frequented after shifts. I slumped onto it and cried like I was bleeding out. Like I was a little kid who’d lost an arm and a leg, who’d lost such important pieces of his future in a matter of seconds.
~
When I was done crying I just slumped against the bench, staring at the ceiling of the parlor. Everything was so still, save for the sounds of cars floating in the air. Birds chirped, people walked and talked, I saw one couple walk out of the shop and leave while talking in high spirits and loving grace.
I felt so alone in this. This hollowness. I didn’t know what I was going to do. So many of my hopes and dreams were flattened with one word. I didn’t know whether I should get up and go home, or stay and eat sad ice-cream, or go home with sad ice-cream. Each thought made me feel somehow disgusted. Each thought felt meaningless in the face of everything; what was the point of having ice-cream, sad or no, if May wasn’t going to be there to eat with me? What was the point of going home if May wasn’t going to be there to curl up with me as we searched for a new favorite show? God, what was the point?
I sat on the bench for what felt like eternity, ruminating and sinking further into that terrible hollowness. People came and went out of the parlor. I felt a little embarrassed just sitting there, what would people think about the glum young man sitting on the bench and not even having any ice-cream? Still, I also didn’t really care. I’m not typically one for caring about what others think of me, but even then it wasn’t enough for me to feel any energy to move. I had none. Would I ever again?
I didn’t know how many people were around, or even how much time had passed, before I heard footsteps on the pavement and a presence take a seat next to me on the bench. I looked over and was surprised, ashamed, and infuriated to see Patrick. He had on a black wool coat that, admittedly enough, paired well with his person. He didn’t look at me, but I could see the same shadow over his eyes that I felt over mine. The same indifference toward his posture that I felt in mine.
“She quit.” He said, tiredly, exhaustedly. “I don’t know where she’s going, if not back to your home…” Probably her parents. “Probably her parents. I don’t think they live far from here. Of course, you probably already knew that.” I did, but I was in no mood to argue.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me for what I’ve done. I didn’t really come here looking for it. Rest assured Cleaver, I still don’t think very highly of you. But…” He was silent for a long moment, struggling to get out what he wanted to say. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this drawn back, this vulnerable. “You’re the only I know within a ten mile radius who might know what I’m going through right now. So, please, don’t say anything. No snark, no condescension, nothing from you or me. Just silence.”
I could hear the sincerity in his voice. I don’t think very highly of him either…but I understood his take. So no, no snark, no condescension. Just silence as the both of us took in the sun, the sky, the trees, the birds, and the deep, massive holes in our hearts. Of all the people to help fill that hole, I never expected Crazy Survowski to be one of them. Despite himself being…himself, I think he truly loved her. Why? I’d never know. But I always operated under the assumption that it was for the same reasons as me; she was an image of all things good in the world. Corny? Maybe. It was true enough for me though, and it shattered us both when she suddenly let go of us for herself. I was angry at her choice at first, but I knew I couldn’t blame her. We all have our own paths to take. And, since then, I’ve known that no one person can ever fill another’s life with a century of meaning.
Things must’ve been cleared up with the cops and ambulance before he came to me, because we sat there for a long time, silently sharing in our sorrow. Indeed, at one point I noticed a brace surrounding his leg. I felt a little bad when I looked at it; crazy or no, he didn’t deserve it. I could’ve killed him. I’m glad I didn’t, and I took what I did as a wake up call to learn how to manage my emotions a little better. I’m still plenty snarky, and I can still lose it sometimes. But nothing like what I did to him ever happened again.
Eventually he left. I was dismayed at first. Stunned. Scared that I would sink back into that dark place I had been spending too much time in before he came. No lifeline to keep me afloat. But, I was actually fine. Somehow, he helped me. Patrick Crazy Survowski helped me from myself. I was still in that dark place, but a little sunshine pierced through the clouds, and I looked at the sunshine around me a little better than I did before.
I was still on the bench when the girl came. I also didn’t know how much time had passed then. I was still slumped. Still weighed down by grief. Patrick had lightened the load, but I felt a pain of sorrow everytime I thought of sad ice-cream and going home alone.
But then she came, It was the same girl I was talking to at the playground inside the Zone. The same one who had “distracted” the employees so I could get away. She took a seat next to me and smiled. Something flitted in my stomach at her expression, the tiniest sense of joy.
“Hi.” She said brightly.
“Hey,” I responded, some surprise in my voice, the first words I’d uttered in what must’ve been a couple hours in reality, but what felt to me like days. “What’re you doing here?” I asked.
“I asked my parents if I could see you before we left. I told them the story. They said you sound like a funny guy.”
“What about the leg?”
“Oh, that was part of the distraction.”
“I know kid, I’m being facetious. I mean, aren’t they mad about you faking it?”
“Oh! Heh, a little, yeah. But when I told them my story they seemed to understand.”
“At least enough to let you come see me.”
“Ha, yeah.”
We fell silent for a minute. She didn’t ask immediately, probably sensing that something was wrong. I appreciated her not prying, but the ice was broken enough that, after a minute, she asked; “Did she say yes?”
For a long minute I didn’t respond. Eventually though; “No. She didn’t.”
“Why not?”
“It’s complicated.”
“…My parents say that a lot. They use it to explain most things. Why I grow, where babies come from, where my uncle went, why they fight so much.”
Silence.
“What’s your favorite TV show?” I asked after another minute.
She had a hard time answering, since there were “so many” but she settled on Paw Patrol and Spider-Man. We talked about our favorite shows until it was time for her to go. I was sad to see her leave, but I stood up a little straighter after that, the hole being filled in further. It still wasn’t enough to not make me cringe whenever I thought of ice-cream or being home alone. But, eventually, the sun started to go down, and I had to face the future at some point.
~
I never saw the girl or Patrick again. In fact, it didn’t occur to me until I was driving home that I never got the girl’s name, which tore me up a little, but I’d later accept it. And I never even knew what Patrick wanted to do with his life, I never knew the circumstances that made him the way he was. I accepted that too and moved on.
I never saw Sylvie, or Dennis, or Roddy Kiss-ass. I just know that Patrick had quit sometime after that day. I don’t know if the Zone is any better or worse than it was when I worked there, just that it’s still standing.
I never saw May again. But I knew she was going far, and after I’d accepted everything that happened, I only wished the best for her.
I eventually accepted myself, and when I did, I lived again. Not quite the same person, but also still the same guy I was while dating May. I could still cast snark like a wizard and I could still burrow like a badger under a sea of plastic balls. For the life of me though I still couldn’t beat anyone at any damn Battle-Pit.
The End.
Seth's Creative Cabin 