Saturday Sip

People don’t like my name, period. Although my mom thought Hayley Firefly is a stunning name for me, nobody else seemed to reach agreement on that. To tell you the truth, I truly never knew why my last name was Firefly. People speculated as to why this was so but never really had a firm answer. Some said it was because our ancestors had named it based on the insect, but everyone knows that sounds stupid. Others say my grandfather ran away from his family and took on a different name, but there wasn’t any evidence to support it. Even my own classmates thought that my last name sounded weird, with some going as far as making a rumor that my mom changed the family name because I needed a better self-image.

Today was Saturday, and Saturday was a very extraordinary day for me. School’s always pressuring to me all through Monday to even Friday, and Saturday’s where I seem to be at most peace and leisure. Also, my best friend Chloe Verdisheart comes on Saturdays only, so this made it even more of a day to cherish. Chloe texted me first today and asked whether I’ll be going to the courtyard with her. Now, I know, normal teenagers wouldn’t want to go to an abandoned Gothic-like courtyard on a weekend, but Chloe and I weren’t the regular. That’s us, all right: Chloe Verdisheart and Hayley Firefly, two quirky best friends. Well, that and she had a pretty crappy last name, too, so that balanced things out.

Chloe and I were sitting on a metal bench staring at dirt. I sipped on a blueberry milkshake that I bought from a vender nearby. So far, we were bored. We wouldn’t even look like we were best friends these past couple years if a passerby saw us. To them we’d be distant sisters forced to go out and breathe some fresh air for once. But that wasn’t the case; no, it was because — and this was a first for the both of us — we had nothing to do. I heard there was a party going on in my neighborhood, but Chloe told me that since we weren’t invited there was no point in going as dull adults as that was the type to be invited there. Instead I tried to think of something else. Ugh, it sounded so ridiculous to be like this! And to even think my parents were the ones who said, “There goes Hayley, the little chinwagger” or “Does her mouth ever sit closed?” Personally I never thought about myself that way, but I always had something to say. ’Course, my parents didn’t see me like that; they still treat me like I’m still in elementary school.

“How about a concert?” I said out of nowhere. It literally sounded like it came from the midst of the air.

Chloe turned to me. “Concert?” she said like this was the first time she heard of the word.

“Yeah, of course a concert!” I told her. “Sound awesome to you?”

Something in her eyes told me she wasn’t too sure.

“Don’t we need tickets?” she asked me. True, but I told her we could get some easily by the center where the band played.

“Won’t that be a little costly?”

Uhhh, maybe?

She then asked, “Who’s performing?”

I told her the name of the band.

“God, Hayley!” she practically screamed. “You know we can’t go there! They won’t allow us, no matter what!”

But even as she said it, Chloe wasn’t being serious. A hint of smile played on her lips, and that was all I needed to know to have her join in.

###

“THIS IS THE SHIT!”

Waves of people went wild. For the rest of her life, Chloe would never figure out how we got in here with all those bouncers and security guards in the way. I would never tell her, nor will I in the future. Because when I saw Chloe, she wasn’t Chloe anymore. I didn’t need to stress it. When everyone screamed, we screamed too as our happiness flew in vivid colors, looping around like whipped cream. Engulf took the stage, and they were the only duo I knew classified as a “band”. I mentioned this to Chloe, but she was too busy screaming to hear me. Everybody was in a maximized state of sound I was beginning to lose it. An extraordinary realization came on that I didn’t have the same body I had before — I had to jump it off. Proudly, I spread my arms wide, an eagle, nourishing on sound, on noise and on energy. The blazing crisp of freedom waters my mind. I could feel it on the tips of my lips, the tips of my fingers —

At an instant the sweetness was short termed taking me onto reality, because someone was screaming. Other voices chimed in like a chorus. Was something burning? I looked around, searching for the source. Amidst the large crowds of fans wailing and screeching, I couldn’t see a flicker of light from anywhere yet I still smelled fire. My palms began getting sweaty.

“Chloe, Chloe!” I nagged on my best friend. “Chloe, can you hear me?”

She slurred a little, as if waking from a trance, and looked at me.

“Don’t you smell it?”
Then, before she opened her mouth, the guitarist shrieked in horror. His tongue swiveled like a snake’s; a bright light covered his back. I wasn’t the only one noticing this, for everyone was alarmed. Crowds ran for the exits and I couldn’t find Chloe. Wasn’t she just here beside me? My breath quickening, I scanned the area. She seemed to have disappeared. My eyes were raw and open. But everywhere I saw, Chloe was never to be found.

###

“Hayley?” my mother said from the outside of my bedroom door. Without a reply, she knocked. “Hayley, open the door. Please.”

My last text was a weekend gone in the past. My eyes drooped from the sight of the thing. Chloe hadn’t been found, and she hadn’t texted me either. Firefighters washed out the horrifying scene, but they had no results from the strange disappearance of my best friend. Depressed much? I twirled my fingers in random fashion. Perhaps I was.

My mom still called. Should I let her in?

The door opened. Dammit, she must have picked the lock or something. Closing my eyes, I refused to look at this woman staring at me. Quietness scratched to the air when my mother sat down on the bed. My legs twisted into a pretzel. The apparent disappearance of my friend processed into one hell of an impact. When Chloe’s parents found out, they had broken down into a mentally emotional state, twisted in their own misery.

But I was different from them. I hung out with her, had fun, pulled mischief. Chloe was mine, the only friend I ever had. We had passion, vigor, youthfulness, and understanding (which most people fail to recognize).

And what does my mother try to do? Nothing much, I supposed. She was the thin shell trying to protect me saying overused lines that proved to be worthless. That woman of a mother was pathetic in trying to protect me under her umbrella of bullet holes.

Was it for the better or for the most fucking stress I dare not need?

God, I’m meshed up in my own words.

###

You know what? I liked being in this hell. Everyone preaches about how hell is the nastiest place for your soul and you must prevent it by doing a bunch of excuses until you “cleanse” yourself out of it. Those people probably deserve to taste what hell really is, because then maybe they’ll realize. They probably wouldn’t understand what happened to Chloe. Just little tears and hugs, but it isn’t respectful. That was why I lingered on the inner side of myself. It was better this way.

###

On a day which I had no specified date to, I was taking a light walk outside. It was breezy, but over here it was never cold like in the north. The thought of Chloe still rang in my life, but never destroyed the deepest core of feelings. I had no watch, and preferred not to so I wouldn’t have to be constricted with how much I’m out or in and all that nonsense. Instead of normal people checking the hour and schedule I dodged cars while crossing streets and solemnly talked to people who happened to pass by. Maybe in the far future, walks like then would come out as nostalgia. The world had a way of knowing. I thought of this when I was heading home but never finished the thought, because for the second time in my life I saw smoke again.

A house nearest to me crushed in a storm of crimson heat. I rushed towards the home, hoping no one was in there. Flames roared and blasted all over. My tongue must have been malfunctioned briefly, since I couldn’t say anything. Who could have done this? Who could have done this? Only my thoughts made sense.

On the driveway was the car my mom bought in a sale somewhere in Detroit. Too bad for her: it lay in a metal combined inferno. Too bad for me: this was my house. The truth screamed at me and I screamed back. My mind shutdown all for one thought: No. A figure was on the front lawn gazing at some device in their hands. I didn’t run to the figure. My legs were too rigid to provide movement just yet. But as the figure came closer the device had become the flamethrower and the black silhouette Chloe Verdisheart.

I sank to my knees. “What the hell are you doing?”

Chloe ignored me and kept on walking.

Madness blew in the air and mingled with the fire, and my heart just about to surge. With haste I leaped at the girl who ignited a neighborhood that was in the likeness of my friend. We were tumbling and tumbling and I was shaking, slapping her — tears from my face dripped onto hers . . . her skin began bleeding and god was I tumbling down again, both of us, the vision in my eyes shaking swiftly and there I would cry out: Oh I’m sorry, I’m sorry! It all stopped, yes it did, and I was sobbing then saying sorry and apologizing on loop but I didn’t know why and why I didn’t just stop myself and then — In the center of shadows, I heard a feeble voice from afar . . .

“Tomorrow comes today.”

It sounded like Chloe.

###

I happened upon a Chinese restaurant with blazing neon red signs with Chinese characters above and English right below it. Entering, I sat on a plush red stool waiting for a plump man to take his order for to go. The several voices of talking people never stirred me, since I was deep in thought about the girl who looked like Chloe cutting my world into black; that is, until I woke at my front lawn. I had first thought it could be a fever dream, for the girl vanished. But, more than ten houses became empty lots, rubble and ash exchanging the fond memories of before.

The fat fellow left with a paper bag. I then went to the counter and told my order. He scribbled it on a notepad with a stubby pencil. Few minutes more and I received my takeout and began to leave.

The only place for me to eat in peace, I supposed, was at Travers Park. Travers Park was a wide field of greenery; beyond grasslands that seemingly had no end. Families had picnicked here out in the hills as they engaged in small talk, the children frolicking out there with the cloudless sky above. I found a place to eat on a steel bench near the grasslands, up ahead were the silver wind turbines. Next to me was a skinny man with skin like curdled milk reading a brochure. His dull russet hair was trimmed sharp to one side.

An object came rolled to my feet. I bent over to pick it up. It was a straw, a black straw. Typical straws were white with a red stripe running vertically. Curious, I squinted at the tiny hole at one end of the straw. Strangely, the other end was covered. That was odd, because the outside of the straw seemed normal. Both ends were open, so why was it covered when I squinted inside?

“Um…excuse me.”

I turned to see the pale guy was talking to me.

“Yyyeah?”

“Um… that straw you got there, it’s mine.” He motioned to the straw I held with my index finger and thumb.

“Sorry about that. Here you go.” I handed it to him, who tucked it in his shirt pocket. “Why’s that straw black?”

The pale guy bent his head to the ground, playing with his hands. “It’s not a straw,” he said, firm.

“Then what is it?” I asked.

“Does it matter?” He wasn’t talkative.

“I just want to know.”

He stayed silent, but when I wasn’t looking he blurted out, “It’s black because it’s different.”

My interest grew. “And why is it different?”

“Are you always this nosy with strangers?”

“Just . . . making some conversation, y’know?”

He sighed. “Look, I can’t say this type of information in public places, all right?” The pale guy took out the straw and rolled it between his fingers. “Are you here to interrogate me?”

“No, I’m not. I don’t want to bother you or anything like that.”

“I know, but the instrument that I hold could help or lose a person.”

“Specifically that means?”

“I don’t trust you to even say so.”

“And how do you know why to not trust me?”

He was at a loss with that. “If I told you, you would promise not to tell anybody.”

“I promise.”

He had a crooked smile but it faded. “What you call a ‘straw’ is just a tunnel. Its purpose is to transport into another person’s individual essence. In the outside world, time would appear motionless when in actuality the events happening very deep happens so fast it goes by quicker than regular time. However, most people would be lost.”

“What do you mean most would be lost?”

“Once you get inside the tunnel you will become lost. To the normal person, there is no point of return. Having been extremely experienced, I can get myself in and out.”

“Did this ever happen to someone else?”

“Various people have, and are now gone in the in-between parts of spaces.”

“What do you do when you are in someone’s inner . . . existence?” I asked.

“It differs for everyone. When one submerges within all the innermost feelings of that person will manifest into a kind of physical environment. That way the person reveals themselves easily without the trickery of normal human behavior such as bluffing and concealment. Do you need it?” he then asked, a little off the subject it sounded startling when he asked.

“I thought only you could get out.”

“Of course I can, but do you need it?”

“Yes, I might, but can’t you do you it for me? After all, you’re the only one who could get out of the person’s inner world.”

He thought this over, probably wondering what he could do to help me. But I didn’t understand it. This sudden stranger wanted to help me with the outcry of my once best friend. It didn’t seem possible for a stranger to go out and help people. Did he do this before? If yes, then could he be positive enough to get me out and save Chloe? Had the straw have the ability to even help people overcome their problems, if there were any? There were too many questions running track on my mind, but I decided that if I were ever to get out of this, it was with this man’s help.

“I can get you in, I suppose, and then examine to see where you are if you need to get out.”

I nodded. It sounded plausible enough. “All right, I’ll do it.”

###

I held the straw at my fingertips, standing at Lehman Avenue, where one story homes stood with picketed signs that screamed RENT THIS HOUSE. Chloe would be here tonight, and while there was no evidence to support that I had the feeling she would be here. My neighborhood hadn’t entirely crumbled to the ground, so this was the chance for Chloe to finish off what she started.

Fire rose from a house diagonal from where mine used to be. Out in the distance the trails from the flamethrower hit the sky. Chloe spread the deadly match on the lawn, it catching onto the fence. I maneuvered my way to a bush where she didn’t pulverize yet. I hid till she would come at me. That was when I would make the attack on her.

I shivered in the chilled weather of the fading night. Her footfalls came closer, faster, and then dead silence. There was a click, but intuition was the key. Holding the straw with one hand I hurled onto her, and before she could even think of pulling the trigger of that flamethrower I slashed a forceful eye into the straw, the other end aiming a direct point onto her forehead.

I peeked in the straw finding the other end open. It was lit fairly enough to blind my sight. My skin began to loosen up, and I gasped. Wind blew everywhere and all I saw was blurred to no end. I was sliding; submerging into something I didn’t know what. I couldn’t move because something was doing it for me. I urged to scream, but all that came out was softer than a cat’s hiss. Going further down and I saw all white. Nothing existed where I was.

My thoughts kept me alive. All white and I was petrified. Breathing got quicker, so I tried to calm myself that I was doing this for Chloe. Then, without knowing, all the white sucked out from an invisible vacuum. Next thing I knew my face pressed on concrete. I tried to get up, but to no avail. The thoughts of mine shrieked for a response, but all was lifeless. Not even a whisper for me to croak out.

One of my legs stuck out, oddly, like a bent pipe cleaner tried to position itself onto the ground. I watched in astonishment. I didn’t know who it was, but something was doing my body’s work for me. You wouldn’t imagine how, as I watched in terror, my body jerked its way up the sidewalk that never went straight but had its opinions to curve or twirl. The sky that was once blue was now a spectrum of colors and hues, changing each time we went further on. Below ocean waves crashed and tumbled thousands of feet below. The narrowness of the sidewalk was close enough to make you lightheaded. When the walk ended there laid a cable ladder, which there my body climbed onto. Everything felt so strange and dreamlike, no matter where I glanced. If this was what Chloe placed herself at such personal times, then I wouldn’t know what to do then.

My voice cried out, “Where are you?” However, I never planned on saying that or had any ability to even move my lips. Someone was tugging the strings, they were toying with me. I had become their puppet. A wiggly line swiveled up, meshing into a door. It flung open. The voice that was not mine screamed, “Where is she?”

Two figures came out of the door. They wore mismatched collared shirts and had no heads. Where the hole of the shirt was instead strands of thick black hair; their arms and feet were the same. Sheet of paper flew from the air, flying into one of the figures. Using the strands of hair, the one of the two figures enlarged the sheet, words etching out of it.

She’s in the executive building, it wrote.

“Well, get me there.”

The puppeteer made me cross toward the two beings and into the door. I’m sure they sensed that I didn’t want to go, so their tentacles of hair pulled mine and dragged me into it. I saw nothing but only used my ears to hear the footsteps. We exited out to a small cliff. The sky was infinite, clouds flying like aircrafts. The two beings lingered, not facing me.

“Here it comes,” my voice whispered.

A river raft made out of clouds came our way. I was forced to go on. My hand grabbed a hold on a cloud-made wheel, and took off. She waved at the two weird creatures, something I found haunting. Around us, top and bottom, there was merely just the sky.

The destination became visible through the clouds, a structured executive building with tall cylinder poles supporting its weight. We entered here with the crystalized revolving doors side by side of me as they were connected to the large poles on the building. The cloud raft rose upwards and there was Chloe twirling something on her finger. She stood on a platform that looked like a rooftop. We were getting closer, anticipation swelling my stomach. It was the first thing I felt since I arrived.

The raft bumped on the corner of the platform where I strolled on. Inches away were the answer, to figure out why she acted like this, and it’s ruining me to just only ponder the outcomes. Chloe rose up, with scissors twirling amongst her hand. She said, “You must really be pissed at me.”

My voice spoke for me, but it wasn’t audible. Chloe then faces me, with her eyes bolting red from lack of sleep since . . . since when? All of her hair hung in wire like layers, eyes sunken deep into her sockets, those scissors of hers were knives that would cut in the slightest touch. As harmful as they were, she appeared timid, almost shying away from me. How could this be?

She then says: “If I could just fall into this never-ending sky.

“Yet everything is predetermined. Why did I do it? What was the purpose?” Was she talking to herself, or to the body that I didn’t own anymore and was trapped in? The skinny pale guy did say it was the most inner core of the person, so she must be talking to herself or thinking out loud. My friend paced in circles, her arms terse, coated in the melancholy-syrup image. Then without warning she threw her scissor off to the sky. “I’m not your friend. I never was.” She went to the ground. The clouds around here were faster.

“I’m not sorry. No, I’m not sorry I did it. You wouldn’t even get it if I told you. Yet it’s so difficult . . . probably I should say so even though it’s no use. You’ve seen it all. Who would . . . really care, anyway? The universe wouldn’t just dwell its attention to something so minor there. My role . . . the thing that I had to me was to create it all simple again. Everyone . . . it’s just all hopeless. I guess that would be the exact meaning of things . . . to just exist . . . for once.”

Her words splintered me. No matter what the guy told me then, was she telling the truth? Surely those words breathed truth in the voice that bore them. She got up, lingering around. “Don’t stop me.”

She leaped off. Whether it was me or someone else but I grabbed her before she lunged down. Looking up at me, Chloe said, “Will you do it then?”

I didn’t say anything.

“Can you finish it for me? I don’t want it anymore, Hayley.” She nodded, assuring herself, and gave a weak smile of confidence.

Then the hand released her. What the hell was that? Thus the memory of her smile didn’t fade, though, but lingered on the air before she fell. Inside I was shaky and terrified by that smile. Misery came back for me, piercing vain into my soul. God what happened? This wasn’t supposed to — that wasn’t me. The trap of the body shook, as I grew in wildness. And all those things she said, was it to be me?

I got nowhere to go. My house was vanquished and my family a mystery . . . Is there even a future for me? For a moment it was this blissful loneliness, and there I wanted to stay here. Out there, I was a confounded girl with either a doubtful future or no future. But I couldn’t be here forever. Just get me back up that straw tunnel to nowhere. The body began walking off, yet this fusing of emotion and of my conscious entrapment here just then gave the reaction to break out of these unbearable conditions. I departed out of the body, heading out.

Tomorrow comes today.

###

The black tube lay on the sidewalk, where a dusky stranger loomed to it. He gazed upon it and stuffed it into his pocket. Desolate parched lands of debris were everywhere. Standing there still at the vacant lot of a home that belonged to a family, the guy took out a watch. It was a Saturday morning. He hummed as he went his way on.

He strolled with a bag, eyes darting to and fro. Fresh new air came in, the stranger sinking it all in. Now it returns, all the liveliness greeting him. It raised his spirits. Crossing a used to be highway route, he spotted a rusty shack that once sold fast food. What luck! And what do we have here? An unharmed chair to relax in! Before he let his mind free, the stranger spotted a cool beverage on the countertop of the rusty shack. No one seemed to touch it, so the stranger equipped it. Aware that there was no straw, he took out the thin black tube that he found from the sidewalk. It wasn’t like anyone was using it.

He took a sip.