PART III:
“Why should I tell you? Haven't I told you enough already?”
“Ahh come-on you can tell me if it makes you feel any better”. I can’t believe I said such a cliché thing.
“No it won’t make me feel better it will make me feel bitter” she retorts and then after a moment she says,“Tell me something embarrassing about you first.”
And so the best I can come up with is, “I exist.”
We both laugh at this. Then I think of embarrassing things about me, there happen to be too many to choose from.
“Once upon a time a bully named Steve dumped me into the trash bin.”That should do the trick.
She stays quite and then shakes her head unsatisfied.
“I almost drowned in a lake once.”, I offer hoping that this was embarrassing enough to please her.
“Have you ever had an idiosyncrasy in regards to something, like the one Omi has for this field?” she presents before I can tell her of that time some kid stole my tampons.
I take a moment to memorize all the thoughts that from in my brain and all the thoughts that vanish in it. I drown in my atypical opinions and weird theories.
I swim though all the things I have had idiosyncrasies for.
But I can’t choose until I realize for the second time today that I am sitting on my ass in a field and I remember the dream I had.
I think it was wrong for me to laugh at Omis’ theory because I have my own, a peculiar thought that now that I think of it, I would find exceptionally hard to explain to someone without making them laugh. I don’t even know Omi but I can imagine exactly how he would have felt. Alone. The way I have felt all the time.
I think of the firefly field theory. I imagine what Bravo would say or do once I told her. I imagine the twinkling fireflies depicting my life and her life and everybody else’s live swarm around us. And shine and vanish then shine and vanish. It would be totally fair if she laughed because I laughed too. Because we don't expect the vial and disgusting human conscience to be deep or thoughtful very often. And when we do come across someone who has such a mind we laugh at them but a piece of us laughs at us. We laugh at how silly it was for them to assume such weird things but a piece of us laughs at how silly we were to assume such a thing.
I finally take the plunge, I tell her. Partly because I want to know what she would say to this and partly because I want to know what Omi said to her. That hurt her. Her!. Miss tough guy.
So I bundle up my courage, telling myself honestly that I am not embarrassed, I may not speak my mind a lot but that doesn’t mean I can’t. I tell her my idea of the momentary perfection of life being much like a field with a billion fireflies. And how their sporadic glows symbolize the good times and the dimming of their light is the bad time. How that one in a million instant where all of the fireflies glow up is like the epitome of life’s beauty and perfection and how when that instant ends everything is back to imperfection.
She listens to everything with great intent and to my surprise she doesn’t laugh, not once, maybe my theory wasn’t as silly as Omis’ or maybe she has suffered once because of her ignorance or maybe there is a difference in sharing an idiosyncratic thought with an adult and a twelve year old kid. When I finish she stands up and stares blankly at the unpopulated circle of chemicals symbolizing the absence of damns standing proud between the grassy festivities of the numerous damns.
The gentle warm breeze rustles the untamed fringes of the grass. As the breeze floats across my face it feels hot and damp, like the grass is respiring like the two of us. Like the damns people are giving are living breathing things. Like they were struggling to be noticed until Omis’ theory made us see them in a different light. Or maybe everybody and everything around me is just being too overly melodramatic. And exhaling deep sighs is a symptom of it.
It is precisely in moments such as these I effortlessly forget that I sit in a fleeting second and I start to feel that I may be in front of a massive painting. When there is so much to look at and yet there isn’t anything to look at except wild strokes. Idiosyncratic people are the loneliest people alive. I think to be an idiosyncratic person one has to accept with all his heart and soul that they will forever remain misunderstood or never understood at all. We have to accept society’s’ verdict of forever remaining a mystery.
Bravo faces away from the field and now she stares at the wall behind us while I continue to blindly stare-at-the-scene-with-no-reason-but-staring-at-the-scene in front of me.
Then she finally breaks the silence with a “Wow.”
It took her that long to process and all she came up with is a wow.
Then she says, “I am guessing you must be totally beat. How was your chat with Sigma?”
“She ate all of the functional grey matter I had.” I reply and then I ask “How do you say get lost in Urdu?”
She lets out a surprised laugh and then she says something that takes long for me to understand and master, but I finally get it and repeat it until she asks me to stop. But I don't, I keep repeating it and she starts to laugh again. Then she says “Listen you have to come here with me again.”
And I nod. I like the place as ugly as it is. I like the idea of it. It is probably because the unrestrained melodrama is washing over me.
“You just have to…” she leaves the sentence and I don't take notice that it is incomplete. I keep repeating the new Urdu words I learned and stare at the lady bug resting on one of the damns of someone somewhere.
A very important change takes place which I fail to notice immediately. I am too caught up in relaxing after all the crap this day had to offer that I miss another hint. A generous hint. The madness begins with a sudden gush of wind, quite distinct from the gentle breeze floating by a minute ago, rushing across my cheek. I don't let the curiosity to know its’ origins faze me until I see her piercing the scenery of the damns in a sprint.
She yells “SHIT!!!”
Wait..What? Did I miss something?
I just have to…shit?
I stand up all worried and confused. Waiting hopelessly for her to let out a playful laugh, to turn around or give me the slightest hint we are playing ‘tag your shit’, but none of that happens, she just runs. Her ponytail smacks wildly at the back of her neck as she lurches forward with a quick stride. Luckily, my curiosity dies soon and is replaced by panic, the second the sound of wild barking is registered in my senses. I turn around to confirm it and I am immediately introduced to the other participant in the ‘Race of the mad douche-bags’.
How did that thing get in here? Did it jump over the wall?
Adrenaline is gonna make things okay when you have a fight-or-flight situation right? Which one if the hormones is my friend when I panic?
Nada.
A cold chill runs through me, as I stare at the approaching abomination. From the diminishing-yet-still-very-safe distance I can see a dangling tongue, a wagging tail and four very swift moving limbs. When the creature barks I flinch as if awoken from a nightmare, only to find that I am still in it. Panic is the Houdini of emotions; a trickster so skilled it makes you believe every situation is an urgent crisis. I am frozen stiff, when I hear loud shouting, I spot a very tiny, very sweaty and very helpless man running behind the hound. He seems to be yelling all the gibberish in the world at an even more accelerated pace. I have absolutely no idea what he is talking about. Run!? Save yourself!? The dog has Rabies!? Move crazy lady! Move!? I should just die and rot in a cornfield because I can’t handle a dog!? Why aren’t you running!? Another loud bark brings me back to the more urgent crisis, but now the dog is very close and I can’t escape it. Panic swells up in my nerves and I slam my eyes shut. In the next few seconds all I can hear is the barking getting louder and louder and my heart pounding in my ears. Damn I should’ve run.
But then my panic changes into confusion. A sudden gush of wind strikes my face and then nothing. I hear another bark. I open my eyes and turn around to spot the hound still persistently pushing for Bravo. As if it’s her or nothing. It just ran past me not even stopping to acknowledge my presence.
I thought it impossible but for the first time my body’s uselessness has proven useful to me. But what about…?
I turn to the madness to my right and spot her in the distance trampling the grass bed of the damns with ferocious speed. She hasn’t even reached halfway to the barren circle yet but the mutt isn’t that far behind her. Now what? The crazy little mans’ shouting gets closer and when I turn the madness to my left I see the pitiful shrimp just in front of me. He has his head clutched between his little hands and he repeatedly moves it from side to side expressing some sort of agony. I look closely at his feeble lady like fingers and then and there case is solved, what a sad sad spectacle. How could he even consider that in this world governed by theorems and every law Newton and Einstein could think of, he could actually possibly abracadabra-lly ever handle a mad dog when he has little T-Rex hands? The world I live in is completely screwed! And what is the big idea shouting at me like that?
He looks up at me and starts to point wildly to where the race is still underway, he keeps talking but I can’t catch a single Urdu word he says. I start to shake my head and shrug my shoulders and in the end we both just stand there awkwardly displeased with each others’ lack of co-operation.
That is quite enough, I don't have much time. I know I could try and catch up to them, maybe Bravo is fueled by fear and the stupid dog by the thought of Bravos meat. But I have to do something. I don't know what exactly but something. I take the stride and plant one foot firmly into the green foamy expanse of the picture, ready to catch up to the other racers. I keep running as fast as I can but I am still very far off, when the questions start popping up in my head like popcorn. One by one and then a storm of them together. What is it exactly that I plan to do when I actually catch up to them?
I am the knight in shining armor without a map or clue. How did I intend to stop this madness?
My superhuman strength to heal mad dogs? My trusted shrimp of a sidekick with lady hands?
In the background there is the persistent shouting of the tiny man, what is with him? I am trying to think here! Okay so you are a completely useless miniature of a man you don't have to be a drag too! Since I am struggling to make sense so SHUT UP!!
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Bet you didn't see that comming!
Haha, before you go on, please drop a vote and comment if you like where this is going!