Sahib
Matthew Hourigan
It was the sweat between Sahib and his mattress that woke him this morning. One eye pinched, the other open, he focused on the ceiling. It was bare and unfinished. The dark wood had patches of mold, which gave it an ashen, diseased finish. It was ugly and reminded him of his own infection. Depression. Woven into his system like spider webs that made more spiders that made more webs. It was heavy.
When he rose from the hole in his mattress, he discovered the spiders had been busy overnight, weaving strong, sticky webs into his shoulders and knees. They tightened when he walked, making Sahib seem much smaller then he might be. He went to the living room.
The living room was a dark place. Thick blankets hung from oversized tacks blocking the windows. Kiza was still asleep on the couch with her face towards the back support. This was Sahib’s aunt. She had been arrested two years earlier in a fast food establishment. Children arriving for an early lunch had discovered her in the ball pit, hung-over with a few grams of cocaine. Now she is living with Sahib and his father. She sleeps most of the time.
Sahib tapped her shoulder until the point he had been poking began turning red. The weight of the webs was beginning to bother him. He found a better solution.
Sahib walked out the door of apartment 16B and inhaled the sunlight. Some of his diseased weight began to lift. The spiders don’t like sun. He felt them recede into the darker corners of his body and their webs weaken. With this sudden weight loss, he would now be able to ride the black spoked, blue frame, banana seat, oversized U handle barred bicycle he hated. Kiza would know where he went. Sahib left a post-it note that read “went sailing” on her left cheek so she would.
Although Sahib hated his bicycle he did enjoy riding it, mostly because of the wind. It pulled at his olive skin and forced air up his hooked nose into his skull where more spiders would be forced to find a new place to linger. He could feel its resistance on his thick black curls that created an Afro, his hairstyle of choice since age six. He rode with his eyes wide and his lifejacket open in the breeze.
The wind became less severe as he approached the last length of his trip. Spiders began to spin more webs and hatch bundles of eggs when he noticed something in the parking lot where boats were launched. It was a poorly maintained SUV with dirt caked on the chrome rims. There were various stickers in the back window, one of which Sahib recognized all too well. Bitch on board in big red lettering. This was the sticker burned into his memory after years of drive-by racial slurs and physical agony. It was Hither’s truck.
Sahib stood staring with the banana seat in between his crotch. The wind had blown back his tall hair, which made it look as though he was still moving. His deep green eyes were watering, partly from the bicycle ride, but mostly from the pathetic life he had been forced into. The largest spider was here today and had already spotted its prey.
She was there, standing on the launching docks, just about to push off her father’s overloaded, twin exhaust, 16 foot Donzi. Sahib counted at least six of Hithers accessories sitting on the rub rail of the boat laughing and harassing the Hispanic employee helping them launch. She looked back to the parking lot and met Sahibs shock with a look of dirty pleasure. Sahib knew what would happen next, so he turned his head to the ground and began riding in the direction of his father’s small sunfish. Logically, if he went the opposite direction, Hither would abandon her boat and the chase would become banana seat bicycle versus SUV death match. Sahib didn’t waste time imagining different traffic fatality possibilities.
It was difficult to move now. The weight that normally sagged was crawling and jumping around inside him, trying to break through his skin and return to Hither. Sahib pedaled to the sailboats ramp, 300 yards away from the launching pier. He didn’t look back until the overwhelming sound of the exhaust had faded.
Sahib sat in the grass next to the lake, examining the patch of grass in between his legs. He couldn’t lift his head. His thoughts were twisted and hazy from the webs being spun. For once, Sahib let this fog overtake his sense.
The sailboat was rigged and ready. He used his extra weight to push the faded yellow boat into the shallows. Sahib would have remembered the centerboard to keep the boat sailing straight had the webs never sown his sense closed.
It was difficult leaving shore without his centerboard, but once he did, there would be no coming back. The wind blew from the west, which would surely make the journey back near impossible.
Sahib sailed out just past the first point. Rounding the point, the sun embraced him. The spiders shook inside and the webs untangled. He reached behind himself and ran his fingers through the cool water. Bringing his hand back in the boat, he realized the absence of a centerboard. The sense had returned. He released the line to the main sail and came to a slow stop to evaluate.
Sahib looked up to the clouds above him. Left, then right. The day was beautiful and deserved attention. The sun shot glares on each ripple of the water that glistened in Sahib’s wet eyes. Oak trees lining the shore swayed in a slow dance that brought a peaceful rhythm to his mind. Gentle rays of sunlight hugged his back like a warm blanket. The circumstances were nowhere to be considered, the spiders had momentarily fled his body, and Sahib experienced happiness.
He removed his lifejacket and set it in the hull of the boat. One last sweeping glance of this peace was all Sahib would be blessed with.
The roar of the twin exhausts exploded through nature. Spiders climbed up the side of the yellow boat and cascaded Sahib once again. Before the weight took his shoulders down, he caught a glimpse of the Donzi.
Hither stood behind the controls, one hand on the wheel, and the other with a long neck beer. Her accomplices were screaming battle cries, their hair blowing wildly in the wind.
When they approached the yellow boat, Sahib had his head in between his legs, the weight far too great to deal with now. The insults preceding his ultimate fate did not make it past Sahib’s eardrums, which were now clogged with spools of thread.
There was a line for docking attached to Sahib’s boat. The large spider attached the line from the yellow boats bow, to a cleat on the back of her Donzi.
When Sahib’s boat first shifted he did as well, he now squatted on the floor of his boat, head still low. The boat sped and began maneuvering. Sahib’s wooden rudder snapped like hope, making the drunken maneuvering easier. Minutes past before the Donzi came to an abrupt stop. Much too abrupt. The yellow sailboat, losing no speed, collided with Hither’s twin exhaust stern in an explosion of wood and human life. Sahib was thrown from the safety of his squat into the edge of the fast boat. His woven head struck first.
Near the floor of the lake was where Sahib regained consciousness. No spiders. No webs. The sun was still above him, and the trees still danced. He was weightless, and he was happy.
