Sunday was in the air at High Park. It was teeming with students, joggers, dog walkers, and loud talkers. All were dapperly dressed in their latest Fall collection, including the dogs, wearing clothes well-suited for a warm and sunny day but with an occasional brisk breeze cusping on the edges of winter.
Elias ambivalently drifted through the park while absorbing the ambiance of all that was autumn and falling around him. He was surrounded by a mosaic of foliage of variegated hues of yellow, green, orange, and brownish-red. The northern breeze whispered to him, through the rustling of the leaves, seasonal songs of what was yet to come. Whenever the cold wind blew, Elias derived warmth from cupping his hot cup of coffee.
People were emphatic about seizing the outdoors before the deathly Canadian winter pulled the rug from under everyone's ability to do so. Their mannerisms were a reflection of the climate that was shaping it. Even the squirrels and the chipmunks in the park seemed to be working overtime, anxiously rummaging under the scattered piles of dried leaves for sustenance to stockpile for the looming hibernation.
All forms of life at High Park seemed to be preparing for retrograde in a desperate attempt for communal gathering. Yet there was beauty in this natural degradation of aliveness. Although for the most part, Toronto was a vibrant city, during winter, it withdrew into itself. During winter, the city felt like a one-horse town where somebody had shot the horse. But thankfully it was not the time for that Ice Age yet. It was a pleasant day on an October afternoon. It was so early in October, that people had to look closely to distinguish it from September.
Elias walked aimlessly as he glided towards the usual park bench where he always convened with Wayne. It was the perfect spot in the park, located decently away from people and their irritatingly cheerful commotions. It was where Elias and Wayne had first met.
At first, Elias was simply a background character who was part of Wayne's morning routine. And to whom Wayne would amiably nod and smile as he jogged past him in the rising light of 5 am at High Park. But over time, the young man would slowly pique Wayne's interest. So much so, that Wayne would sometimes slow down for the sole purpose of observing the young man who curiously sat on the bench in the early hours of daybreak.
He would glimpse Elias from the corner of his eyes as the young man wandered the park, always with his cup of coffee. Drifting, forever seeking, rather wistfully, some vague turbulence of stimulating drama...or the reveries of simpler times. It was visibly clear to Wayne that Elias was carrying heavy bags of insomnia under his eyes. Which to Wayne was the non-verbal mark of a man of high intrigue, pushed by the city to the verge of some interesting occurrence – for better or for worse.
This went on every other morning... until one day, Wayne caved into the intolerability of his tickling curiosity and finally approached Elias to introduce himself.
Over time they exchanged phone numbers and these serendipitous encounters became planned meetups. They would meet over coffee and talk about many things; life, relationships, and everything in between. Wayne was like the retired sage elder of the tribe and Elias was like the young warrior who harbored a void in need of some vague fulfillment. This was how these two souls in a city of three million came to become mentor and mentee.
Today, Elias came to the park purposefully early. He wanted to write in his journal while smoking weed before Wayne arrived. Journaling was a very recent suggestion by his therapist who thought it might supplement the medication she had prescribed him. But the weed was Elias's own furtive self-prescription. Although the last time he smoked weed was in college, five years ago, he thought he might as well try it today. If anything, he reasoned, it might even help him get some sleep. But more so, it was the nervous episode that had happened during the week. Having deviated from his rigid routine for the first time in three years by skipping gym after work, he had tasted something that he hadn't savored in a while. It was addictive in as much as it was an acquired taste – and the chaos of it was balanced by the autonomy it gave.
Having walked for a few minutes, trekking past the fountains, hills, and nearly dried creeks in the park, Elias finally found the fairly secluded bench under an almost leafless maple tree.
Although he was sitting away from the crowd, the breeze gently wafted the sweet aroma of pumpkin spice from people's warm lattes. It had effervesced throughout the park and the scent was palpable in the air. Tasting this fragrance, Elias looked down contrastingly at his cup of dark roasted black coffee. Whorls of rising vapor from his cup playfully twirled in the cool autumn draft, before he took a sip. It bitterly tasted like how he felt. "Why masquerade it with sugar and cream" he cynically thought to himself.
Elias sat there under the tree on this agreeably warm October day and sparked his joint. Immediately he began to cough as he exhaled the cannabis smoke, whose potency he was not accustomed to. The streaks of rising smoke from the burning joint quickly dispersed with every gust of wind before he finally found respite. He cleared his throat to regain some composure and gently continued to smoke, this time, taking smaller drags to avoid another coughing episode.
As he continued to smoke, his gaze began to slacken, and his facial muscles released their tension which melted away under the kind rays of the sun.
The cool breeze blew crispier on his now goose-bumped skin. The warmth of the sun was caressing his face more cozily. His black coffee was pungently more bitter. The sounds of life in the park resonated more loudly. And the fall colors emerged more vividly. He could smell the sunshine.
Even his thoughts erupted more lucidly, more colorful, as it were, in his now seemingly astronomical imagination. His thoughts were enlivened like stardust colors of neuronal constellations suddenly materializing into place. It all seemed to have a mesmerizing effect on Elias who was taking it all in with droopy eyes and a slack-jawed face...a face that was now vacuously stoned...and a heart that was fending off bubbling anxiety.
He looked on expressionlessly at the scene...the October sun always hits differently. It seemed to shine in high-definition and with an air of sophistication. It tenderly gave life and vitality to dormant colors and subtle hues, unlike the vulgarly uncouth sun of July and August. Birds chirping their farewell tunes before migrating southbound provided the soundtrack to the scene which was intermittently interrupted by the distant sounds of fleeting cars. Elias was uncharacteristically attuned to the subtleties of it all...it was frightening how real reality suddenly was.
After regaining some semblance of sobriety, Elias finally opened his notebook. He clicked his pen and held it firmly in place on the page, leaving behind a dent before he began writing...
Suddenly, Wayne appeared on the horizon. He always walked with the poised optimism of a man who was steeped in years of experience and thus seemed to have nothing to prove. Very comfortable in his own skin. His impersonal eyes were easy as if they were absent from all the desires that he never left ungratified. The streaks of grey on his head seemed to harbor all the coveted silver linings that the pessimistically grey clouds wished they had. He managed his surroundings with elegance and by extrapolation, his life.
"You look extra tired today young man," Wayne said taking a sip from his pumpkin spice latte before patting Elias on the back and sitting down next to him.
Wayne's smile had an intangible quality of reassurance... an organic smile, that sprung from a visibly balanced center.
"No rest for the wicked I guess," Elias said with a wearily inexpressive gaze as Wayne chuckled.
"Did you read the book I recommended?" Wayne asked. But Elias shook his head as he slowly closed his journal.
"Well, young man, there's a quote in it that says: a well-spent day brings happy sleep, so a life well spent brings happy death..."
Wayne's innate talent of his mesmerizing rhetoric never failed to pleasantly hypnotize Elias. He spoke in ASMR. The perfect rhythm of his intonation matched the nuances of his facial expressions and his coordinated hand gestures. He was like a maestro conducting his listeners as if they were an orchestra. During which Elias would silently revel in a sort of low-grade euphoria; characterized by a combination of positive feelings and a distinct static-like tingling sensation on his skin.
Elias's eyes drooped in thought and he furrowed his eyebrows pensively as he took a few moments to process what Wayne had just said before he began again.
"How can death possibly be happy!?"
Suddenly, as if on cue, a red autumn-kissed maple leaf fell from the branch above him and landed like a feather on the bench between them. Elias gently picked it up and held it by its stem. He looked up at the fragile, almost leafless tree that seemed to be rattled by even the slightest of breezes.
"Even the trees seem anxious about death, about winter..." he said. "Look! even the leaves seem to be clinging to their branches, not ready to let go... to die..."
Elias let out a pining sigh before he reluctantly let go of the maple leaf which was immediately snatched away by the wind; a dried hollow thing of the vital red that it once was. "Jesus son, you seem depressed...more than your usual self that is..." Wayne said with a humorous yet concerned expression. The eye of a mentor, deep and delicate. "What's wrong huh? Tilly not showing you any love at home?"
"She is but..." Elias began before his belittled ego prompted him to stop and rethink his impending confession.
Noticing Elias' hesitation, Wayne interrupted. "It's the act of confession, not the priest that gives you absolution...and believe me I'm no priest."
Hints of a smile, but not quite it, drew themselves on Elias's face. Be it comical or philosophical, Wayne's wittiness always entertained him. Taking a deep dispirited breath, Elias continued.
"Tilly does try to show me love but I think I'm just bored..."
"With her?" Wayne asked
"With everything," Elias replied "It's like I'm not even attracted to her anymore... even sex feels like a chore...which is really weird because she's really hot...she's objectively attractive...I mean you've seen her before, guys hit on her left and right...which makes me doubt myself...like what's wrong with me, you know?"
Wayne nodded attentively as he sipped his coffee. Elias was a man after his own heart. And he saw too much of his young self in him.
"Nothing's wrong with you...nothing whatsoever." Wayne proclaimed with great confidence. "People change...you really should read the book I recommended... There's another quote from it that says, to love someone long-term is to attend a thousand funerals of the people they used to be... people change... I was married for thirty years, and I can tell you, it's very normal...attraction fizzles away with time...it's like as if familiarity breeds indifference...that's why passion needs reviving every now and then...".
"And how did that marriage work out for you, old man?" Elias said lightheartedly, hinting at Wayne's divorce which made both men chortle.
Elias took out his phone, pretending to be replying to a notification. But secretly, he took a note of 'passion needs reviving every now and then.' His phone was filled with notes like this; epigrams and witticisms that he'd come across from Wayne, from memes, from Tiktok. Following a semblance of some sputtering impulse to expand himself, he records things he's afraid he'll forget even though he rarely revisits them.
"Tell you what...I know exactly what you need..." he said as he slowly stood up and motioned to Elias to get up too.
"What's that?"
"To cure the soul by means of the senses and the senses by means of the soul," he said as he cast his devilish grin and searching eyes at Elias who immediately recognized the Oscar Wilde quote. "It's a surprise...let's go..."