FOUR

THE BUBBLE

 

 

The dry pinecone bumbled and danced down the pavement with a bristly tick tick tick sound before coming to rest in the gutter.  The white leather sneaker returned, swooping down before launching it back into the air with a crack. 

Mike and Billy strolled home from school, talking and kicking a pinecone down the sidewalk.  Just like every day.  They were freshman now, finally free from the micro community and schoolyard politics of elementary.  They had attended that elementary school together for seven years, always the closest of friends.  There were no middle schools then, only K-8.  In the small neighborhood they were in, that meant most of the kids would spend at least 8 years together growing up.  It formed close relationships, and many children became friends for life.  Mike and Billy would agree, since they became friends for life , but they lovingly referred to elementary school as “that social experiment.”  Children are ruthless and cruel.  Bullies are bullies every day without fail.  A small group of children will see you for hours every day, at your best and your worst.  And they never forget.  If Jimmy peed in his pants in the second grade, he will be known for the next six years as the kid who peed in his pants.  There was no self esteem in elementary school.  They all start as blank slates, and every mistake, embarrassing moment or trip is a negative mark on the slate.  The kids carry their slates around with them all day, comparing the number of marks, and the school hierarchy is established by the number of marks on the slates.  One would think that fewer marks means a higher position in that hierarchy, but oddly, the school is led by the ones with slates covered in marks.  These are the bullies, proudly carrying their full slates.  A full slate is fear.  It is a fear that this kid will do anything and he doesn’t care.  Everyone bows to the bully in elementary.  And Mike and Billy were glad to be free from the small pond and into the sea of new people in high school.

It was March, nearing the end of their first year.  Mike was a member of the computer club, which meant each day he signed his name on a checkout list taped to the metal door of the computer room.  There were only four computers but there were fifteen members of the club.  Mike reserved a half hour window after school so he could practice writing programs in BASIC.  Once a week, the club would meet and discuss computer-related news.  They didn’t know at the time, this was the birthplace of modern nerds.  Mike took the responsibility of collecting the club dues and using the funds to have T shirts made for the school-wide club day in April, where all the various clubs in the school have a rally and pose for a large group photo.  He had just received the delivery of shirts from the art department’s silkscreen printing club.  He carried the box of T shirts home on his shoulder today, walking and talking with Billy, his future lifelong best friend.  Billy was on track and field, and he had stayed after school to practice hurdles.  He and Mike arranged to meet after their after-school activities so they could walk home together.  I was just over a mile to home, a comfortable amount of time to joke, make up stories, kick pinecones, and enjoy being young while they still are.  They walked along the sidewalk until they came to a bare dirt field between the groups of houses.  They usually cut across the field because it led them away from pavement, houses, and people.  Here they could throw stones, shout, run, all the things that were not acceptable on pavement until they reached the other side where the pavement began and they had to act like adults again. 

They were so involved in conversation that neither one heard the pickup truck coming up behind them.  Billy was about to tell Mike the story he just read about NASA reporting that Skylab would crash to Earth, when something slapped him on the back of the head.  As the white Ford pickup flew by, kicking a cloud of dust into the air, Billy looked down and saw a wad of orange peels.  Someone had thrown them at him.  He heard laughter coming from the truck as it passed.  It was a kid in the back of the truck, older than Billy and Mike, maybe seventeen.  He had that howling, weasel-like laugh that all bullies have. 

“YOU RETARDED NERD FAGS!”

He howled with laughter and the truck circled around to the left, going back to the same way it came in.  Through the dust clouds, Billy and Mike saw the driver, another seventeen-year-old, flipping a bird at them.  He smiled broadly, showing his large yellow teeth.  The truck drove away leaving a dust trail, and the two of them stood and stared.

“Retarded nerd fags?” asked Billy.  “Why do they always yell out the things they’re most afraid of?”

“I guess some things never change,” said Mike.  “I don’t know if we’ll ever be free from them.”

Billy rubbed the back of his head.  “He’s got a good arm though.  I wonder if he’s on the baseball team.”

Mike set the cardboard box down on the ground and sat down on it for a moment. His sneakers were new and now they had dust all over them.  As he bent forward to brush off the dirt, his T shirt rode up slightly in the back, revealing a red and purple welt below his rib cage. 

“Hey, what’s this?” asked Billy, “Let me see.”

“No, don’t,” said Mike, abruptly, pulling his shirt down to cover the mark. “It’s nothing.”

“Is he doing it again? Why? What happened?” asked Billy. “Come on, let me take a look.” He reached for Mike’s shirt and slowly lifted it, revealing six more welts, clearly shaped like the end of a belt.

“I don’t know.  He can be in a great mood, and we’re having fun, and then he just flips.  He said I need it every now and then so I remember my place.” Mike had his elbows on his knees with his chin resting on his palms.  He stared at his dusty shoes.

“Your place? What place is that?  Mike, this isn’t right. You have to get away from there.  Come stay at my house.  You know my parents don’t mind.”

“Billy, you know I can’t do that; he’d bring me right back and he’d be so angry he’d do it again.  It’s ok, really.  If I can keep things light and happy and maybe do some extra chores, he’ll be fine for a while. Maybe this weekend I can stay overnight at your place.  I just have to deal with him until I graduate, then I’ll be off to college and out of the house.”

“That’s three more years!” Billy’s face was turning red.  “You can’t let this go on for three more years! What if he decides a belt isn’t working anymore and he uses his fists? It has to stop!”

“Seriously, what am I supposed to do? The one time I told someone else, it got back to him and I got the belt again.  The adults side with adults.  Nobody ever believes the kids.  I’m fine. I’ll get away from it.  For now, I just have to keep the peace.  Come on, let’s go.” Mike got up and started walking.

Billy lifted the box up on his shoulder and followed.  They didn’t talk about it again that day.  They came to Billy’s house and went into the living room to start on homework.  Billy’s parents weren’t home from work yet.  They drank soda, ate chips and cookies from the pantry and watched Jacques Cousteau on TV while they went over their schoolwork. At 5:00, Mike left and walked another block to his house, with just enough time to clean up the place before his father arrived home.

The childhood forms the life, and so it was for Mike and Billy, known to the rest of the world as Michael and William.  In their efforts to be taken seriously, nobody was permitted to shorten their names but them.  They moved through school, one day at a time.  Mike kept the peace.  Billy got angry at the injustice.  When they were together, the rest of the world disappeared.  Their conversations included no one else, and the world resented that.  They never understood why, but people close by took offense when they are being ignored, even if they had no business being included.  The guy strutting down the sidewalk with his smug grin, looking to impress the neighborhood with his new leather jacket, the pretty girl expecting to turn heads because she just spent two hours fixing her hair, and the general populus that felt a need for attention got nothing from Mike and Billy.  They carried on and the needy people around injected themselves into the sphere they created with their private conversation.

“You two fags gonna move up or what?” Mike and Billy turned around to see another one, slightly older than them and slightly taller chuckling with his buddies. “Come on, move up.”

They were in line for the movies. There was one box office window at the small theater, and the line for tickets ran down the sidewalk.  Billy looked back and saw they had let a six foot gap form between them and the next person.  He looked back at the bully. “You know you’re still going to get your ticket, right?”

“What did you say, fag?” said the bully, stepping forward so he was looking down into Billy’s eyes.

There was that word again.  They loved that word.  Billy was not in the mood for this today.  He just wanted to go into the darkness of the theater and escape into someone else’s world for two hours so he didn’t have to deal with the ignorance of the world, interrupting him, making an issue of nothing, calling him fag because it’s an easy one-syllable insult that gets an instant laugh from the rest of the ignorant world.  He looked into the bully’s glazed eyes and saw nothing of substance, no potential.  This one would be lucky to have a career sweeping sidewalks with a push broom.  He felt his fist tightening.  A space in the ticket line was so important that you had to interrupt us? Then he felt a tug on his jacket.

“Come on, let’s go,” Mike said, pulling Billy forward. Billy moved away from the bully and turned around toward the box office again.  They got back into their conversation again, forming a bubble.  Outside the bubble, they could hear the boys behind laughing, taunting, using that word again.  And so it went.  Billy confronted and Mike kept the peace.  They balanced each other, kept each other in check.  Billy was the buffer, creating a barrier between the invader and Mike.  Mike did not need protecting; Billy did this to prevent what might happen if the bully confronted Mike.  Although his father hit him, Mike would never allow anyone else to touch him.  If challenged physically, he always defended himself, unleashing a rage that took over, leaving Billy to jump in the middle to separate him from the bully.  It frightened Billy, because he watched his friend turn into something else, something almost robotic.  There was no emotion in his actions; he acted entirely on a mechanical impulse for self defense.  He was pushed by a bully at school in the center courtyard during lunch, and it took four bystanders to pull him off the boy.  The bully was beaten so badly that his nose was broken, while Mike stood over him without a scratch.  Of course, Mike’s father returned the beating when he heard that Mike had detention because he got in a fight, and the cycle continued.   Billy knew this rage was bottled anger Mike had for his father, and he tried his best to avoid ever seeing it again.  He stepped between Mike and anyone who challenged him because his didn’t want the monster to come out of its cage.  Mike grew inward in a way, turning off anger completely by keeping himself calm and cool regardless of the situation, and Billy became the defender, not just for Mike, but for anyone who could not defend themselves.  They both felt a need to change the world, but in different ways.  Mike showed compassion, helping everyone he found who needed a hand.  Billy fought injustice by exposing corruption in his writing and activism.  Through their lives, they saw the world very differently but remained close friends. Billy got more and more disgusted with the people of the planet while Mike had a sympathetic need to help them.

Shortly after the orange peel incident, they had a day off from school for the teachers to prepare for parent conferences.  Mike and Billy called it teachers’ margarita day.  They decided they would take their free day and go downtown to walk around.  They didn’t get to go there often, and it was exciting to see the storefront displays and be among the tall buildings. They needed to get away from the suburbs now and then.  They found themselves walking down the narrow streets, once again lost in conversation.  They were trying to predict what technology would be available in the future, mostly naming things they had seen on Star Trek.  They didn’t know at the time how accurate their predictions were.  As they chatted about Dr. McCoy’s health scanner, they heard yelling up ahead.  An interesting scene was unfolding.  A man on a bicycle had stopped at the driver’s side of a car in the left turn lane at a red light.  He was furiously banging on the driver’s side window, nearly hard enough to break it.

“Didn’t you see me! You almost killed me!” he screamed at the driver.  Apparently, he and the driver had a near miss moments before.

The driver slowly cranked the window down, enough to talk to the cyclist.  He began yelling back at him, angry about the biker touching his car.  The two of them yelled over each other, making it hard to separate their voices.  Billy gathered that the biker’s anger came from the driver’s bad driving and failure to yield to a bicycle, and the driver was only concerned that there was a crazy man banging on his glass window with his fist.  The garbled mess of words got louder and louder until the light changed green and the driver could be heard yelling, “I’M GONNA RUN YOU OVER!”

Then the man on the bike rode off into the intersection, making a left turn and riding adjacent to the sidewalk.  The driver then got his chance to turn, tires squealing as he accelerated down the narrow street.  It was after the lunch rush, and there were no other cars on the street, just the car and the bike.  Billy and Mike turned the corner on the sidewalk as well, following the action.  The car came up on the bike, and the boys paused for a moment, thinking he really was going to run the bike down. Instead, the driver pulled around in front of the bike and hit his brakes hard a few yards ahead.  Mike and Billy expected the bike to stop, go around in the street, or even go up onto the sidewalk, as there was enough space to do so.  But instead, the man on the bike rose up off the seat, stood on the pedals and deliberately drove himself into the back of the man’s car.  The bike stopped abruptly on contact, the rear wheel lifting off the ground.  The man was launched forward over the car in a Superman-style pose, completely clearing the roof of the car and sliding down the windshield, down the hood, and into the street in front of the car, his body crumpling at rest by the front bumper.  By now the boys were stopped, staring across the road at the dramatic scene.  There were two people on the same side of the road as the “accident”, but they were too far behind to witness what happened next.  Mike stepped forward, as if to step into the street to help.  Billy held him back because a car was coming in the opposite direction and Mike hadn’t noticed.

“Wait, look,” said Billy, pointing at the man on the ground.  The driver was still in the car, wondering what he should do now.  The biker broke his crumpled pose and lifted himself halfway up, looking around to see if there were witnesses to the scene.  He didn’t see Mike and Billy, but he heard a woman in the distance making a squawking noise.  She clearly saw a man in the street in front of a car and that was her reaction.  The biker, satisfied that someone saw, then repositioned his body on the asphalt, splaying himself in a twisted, more dramatic fashion, anticipating a show.  He carefully laid his head down, closed his eyes and opened his mouth, with his tongue partially hanging out.  It was clear that this scene was his revenge on the driver.  The driver stepped out of the car, still yelling and swearing.  He stomped around to the front of the car and saw the motionless biker.  He fell silent.  Several people had gathered on the sidewalk now, and the driver looked at them, then looked at the man on the ground, then turned around and looked at the other side of the street, unsure what to do next.

By now Billy was pulling Mike forward, telling him they were both fine, nobody got hurt, and more importantly, they deserve each other.  They will both be cited for various infractions, they will spend hours in court litigating and complicating their lives.  They’re both fools for getting into this mess.  Mike was concerned about the man on the ground.  Billy convinced him it was all a show; they both saw he was fine.  It was an act.  Mike and Billy would argue the rest of their lives about that day.  Mike would say, regardless of intent, it was every bystanders’ responsibility to check the well being of another human in need.  Billy would argue that no harm was done except to the bike and it was best to stay away from foolishness and ignorance at all costs.

  They remained best friends for life.  Mike was a trauma surgeon for ten years until the daily atrocities wore so heavily on him that he switched to family practice, treating colds and minor injuries.  Billy became a writer and publisher, venting his frustration with people in writing so he did not display it outwardly toward his family.  Mike was Billy’s doctor as well, all the way up until he retired from medicine; then he continued as Billy’s personal medical consultant.  He helped his best friend beat cancer.  He was always there, Billy had only to ask and Mike would help without question.  Likewise, if Mike called, Billy would answer, no matter what.

And so it went.  They had their careers and their families, but they also had each other to rely on.  They had a connection only lifelong friends understand.  So, when Mike was old and nearing the end of his life, Billy came to be with his friend.  Mike had no complications with his health throughout his life, but age catches up to even the healthiest.  He wanted to be at home in his last days, not in a facility.  The night Billy crept in silently through the back door, Mike was in his bed, propped up with pillows.  His wife, Meg, slept in a chair nearby.  Billy kissed her on her cheek and moved to the bed.  Mike smiled and took Billy’s hand.

“Did anyone see you come in?” asked Mike.

“No, I’ve gotten good at sneaking around.  How you doing?”

“Billy… it’s almost time.  I’m so tired.  Listen, I want to thank you.”

“For what?” asked Billy.

“I’ve known you for my entire life and you’ve been the best friend anyone could ever ask for.  I’m so grateful that we met.  And I’d love to say that I’ll see you soon but I have a feeling you’re going to stay here for a while.  But I’ll be waiting, I promise.  I don’t want to be remembered like this, so you should go before it gets ugly. Just remember the good times.  I’m sorry, Billy.  I feel like I let you down.  We were a team…”

“Mike, you have nothing to apologize for.”  Billy was sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning over Mike.  Tears rolled down his cheeks onto the blanket.  “You should have no regret.  You took the bad things and always turned them into good.  You made it your personal mission to help others.  You’ve saved so many lives and brought happiness to so many people.  You’re my hero, Mike.  I wish I was more like you.”

They sat together for a few more minutes.  Mike began to doze off, as he frequently did.  Billy leaned forward and whispered in his ear, straightened the blanket and left as silently as he came in.

He crept silently through yards and over fences, making a zigzag route out of the neighborhood.  He could no longer walk down streets or drive without being spotted, so he became a shadow.  He couldn’t risk bringing the obsessed to Mike’s house.  As he made his way into a self-storage facility that sat just outside the suburbs, he’d realized that in a life of odd turning points, this one was one of the biggest.  The person he had known the longest in this life was dying.  He’d be leaving this world, and Billy wanted to leave too.

He opened the door to his storage unit, the one on the end of the row, just out of view of the security cameras.  He quietly closed and locked the door on the inside and kicked off his shoes.  Inside was a single bed, a table and a battery powered lamp.  He laid down on his back on the bed and closed his eyes.  Immediately the “peel” began.  It felt like he was being split in two, like the outer layer of a roll of duct tape being peeled back, resisting at first but then peeling easier once it got started.  Billy launched upward like a lightning bolt, through the atmosphere, quickly breaking through the barrier of air and into the darkness of space.  He was like a fly fisherman’s lure, cast outward, flying freely before the slack tightened.  The heaviness of the earth drifted away.  He felt the selfishness and greed fade, the “me first,” the hate, the neutrality diminished.  The nonsensical human pseudo-logic didn’t matter here; there were no fingers pointing and there were no scapegoats.  Did they really think a groundhog even knows what a shadow is?  Here he was light and free, and although he felt alone, he knew he wasn’t.  There were no beings around him, but his consciousness was part of a greater collective, humming and vibrating.  It was the earth that made him singular, like its atmosphere was a barrier that blocked the reception and slowed the vibration of the ether.

He spun and spiraled as he moved further away.  He looked back at the Earth as it got smaller.  This was the only way to see its beauty, when you’re not close enough to see the filth.  He saw the filament that connected him; it made Earth look like a blue yo-yo.  Onward he flew to one of his favorite spots- Mars.  He loved the desolation of the red planet.  He saw the capsule that would be there forever.  It still had four dead humans inside.  They made it, just like the billionaire said they would.  But they were dead before they got there.  Billy was immune to the cosmic radiation that killed them.  He needed no spacesuit as he moved about the planet.  He came here often to watch the rovers roll around, taking pictures and collecting data.  He frequently played a prank on Earth’s scientists by standing in front of the cameras.  They would not be able to see him, yet there he was, grinning with mischief.  They would most likely never figure out the anomaly in the metadata of the photos, but if they did, their science as a whole would fall apart.  Billy laughed at the thought of NASA’s greatest minds realizing their life’s work was hijacked by a human prankster.  Today he had a reply he wanted to convey to Earth.  Earth had worn down his best friend, a pure soul who deserved better than he ever got. 

Billy stood before the rover, the little machine that happily did its job without complaint.  He looked into the camera as if he could see the humans on the other end.  He turned around, dropped his pants and bent over to show Earth a full moon it had never seen before.