Lost in Thought

            by Andrea Morris

 

            “Hey John, you up for a game?” Oliver called across the crowded hallway.

            “Yeah, sure, but not for too long,” John shouted back, cupping his hand to his mouth like a megaphone, trying to be heard over the mass of boys eagerly discussing their three-day weekend plans.

            “Wicked.  Meet at the lion in five,” Oliver instructed.

            “Ok,” was all John could say before the throng swept him out of the stuffy building and into the crisp fall air.  The breeze blew the amber leaves in swirls around him as the sun dipped just low enough to make his shadow look ten feet tall.  This is my favorite time of year, he thought.  What I really want to do is lie in the grass and just enjoy it.  But nobody else does, so I’ll play rugby with them and pretend like it’s my favorite activity too.  Or maybe they all feel the same way and none of them want to admit it either.  No, I doubt that. 

            You just don’t like it because you’re not very good at it. 

            I wish I could just stop thinking about why I don’t like it.  I’ll just go play, and maybe I’ll have fun.

            John made his way over to the large stone lion statue as he took off his beige and navy striped tie and blue blazer.   Oliver, James, Tyler, and the rest of the team were already there.

            “Hey, what took you so long?” James scoffed. “Daydreaming again?”  

            Yeah, I guess I was, but obviously I can’t say that. “I just had to do something first.  Some of us have lives.”  Good, everyone’s laughing, so I don’t have to come up with an excuse.  I think everyone does that sometimes, right? It’s not like I’m hurting anyone by not telling them that I was actually just enjoying the weather.  Does that make me a liar? I don’t think I’m a liar.  Or am I just lying to myself?  The word “lying” sounds so weird if you keep repeating it.  It’s funny how words do that.

             Why are you dwelling on such a stupid topic?  This is probably why you’re so bad at rugby.  Well, bad is harsh.  You’re not the worst.  Ugh, just get back to the game. “Hey over here,” he caught the ball and felt the rush of energy flow from the ball and through his hands to the rest of his body.  Then he saw his friends running towards him and remembered why he didn’t like rugby.

            “Go for the goal!” Oliver yelled.  John chose to throw it to him instead, but missed.  This was how the games usually went..

            What are you afraid of? Other people aren’t afraid.  I wish you could just be normal.  What is normal?  Maybe you’re normal and everyone else is weird. Or maybe you’re just like everyone else and we’re all abnormal?  No, that doesn’t make sense.  The dinner bell interrupted John’s thoughts.

 

            Friday nights meant that the boys got to have a dance with the girl’s school.  A few of them had girlfriends there, but it was early in the year, so most of the boys were still scoping them out.  John and his usual crew wandered around the balloon filled room, deciding on their pursuits for the night.  There were all the familiar characters: busty Ann, easy Mary, tubby Carey.  And then there was Hilary.  With her long blond hair and even longer legs, she was every boarding school boy’s dream. And now that her older boyfriend had gone to college, she was available.

            The boys bickered before deciding to make John talk to her first, mostly because they all thought he would fail and they would still have a chance with her.  John strode over, attempting to look confident, while the others made sure to stay in earshot.  I wonder if she thinks I look good tonight.  I wonder if she knows my name. I know her name, so why shouldn’t she know mine, right? I mean, that only makes sense.  Although, I’ve never heard her say my name.  I guess people know movie stars’ names and the stars can’t know everyone’s names.  But Hilary isn’t a movie star, so maybe she knows my name.  I wish my nose wasn’t so big.  

            God, you sound like such a teenager.  Just grow up and stop being paranoid.        

            “Hi, I’m John, what’s your name?”  Could I be more ridiculous sounding?

             Stop putting yourself down.  This is why your self-esteem is so low. 

            Hey.  That was a put down too.  C’mon, just act normal. 

            “Hey.  I’m Hilary, but I think you already knew that.”

            Ask her to dance!

             No, I can’t just do that; she’ll say no. 

            Why? It’s just dancing.  You think you’ll win her over with your conversation skills?  This is not normal.  Maybe she’s not normal.  Don’t you realize that obsessing over being normal probably isn’t normal?  Stop staring.

            “Do you ever wonder about what it means to be normal?”  John asked the teenage goddess beside him.

            “Being normal?  Not really.  Do you?”

            “No. A friend asked me earlier today if I did, and I wanted to know what you think.”

            “Huh.”   Silence began to close in.

            “Would you like to dance?”

            “My feet are kind of tired from these heels I’m wearing.  Maybe another time,” Hilary said, already walking away.

            The rest of the night snailed by.  John danced with other girls and had a few laughs, but the frequent impressions and jeers from Oliver, James, and the rest of the group made his steps jerky and his cheeks red.

            She probably would have said yes if you hadn’t brought up the whole ‘normal’ thing. 

            Shut up, OK? It was on my mind.

            Is that your version of a pick up line? 

            I wonder if other people have conversations in their mind.   I hope they do.  Oh good. They’re turning the lights back on.  It’s finally over.

 

            “Hey, man, you look pretty sick,” John looked over at Tyler, his roommate. 

            “Yeah.  I don’t feel so great,” Tyler answered, blowing his nose.  “Actually, you might say that I don’t feel so normal.” 

            “Ha-ha, you’re funny.”  See?  Asking hot girls if they think about being normal is not normal.  Most people don’t think this much about anything.

             Wait. How do you know that?  Maybe they just don’t admit to it.

            “C’mon.  It was pretty funny.  But seriously.  I didn’t sleep well last night.  It would be wicked if you would get me some of that syrup that makes you sleep.  Ny-something or other.”

            “Fine.  I’ll get it for you after breakfast.”

            “Thanks, man.”

            “Sure, no problem,” John shrugged as he turned from his bleary eyed friend and trudged through the door.  Nope.  It’s never a problem. Not a problem that you make fun of me, even while asking me to do you favor.  Not a problem that you guys set me up for embarrassment last night.  He headed to the staircase.  No, no, I’d love to go out of my way to get you some Nyquil. 

            You’re still mad about last night.  They’re still you’re friends.

            “Morning J,” yawned James as he and Oliver came out of their room across the hall.  Oliver was still sporting slippers with his khakis, and James’s brown hair stood up in every direction.  Such hygiene breaches were prohibited, even on Saturdays, but the two of them liked to see who could get away with more.  John furtively loosened the knot of his tie.  

            I hope we don’t get in trouble. 

            You won’t get in trouble.  You can’t even see a difference in your tie.  Stop being such a follower. John retightened his tie as they descended from the fourth floor.

            “Your neck okay?” James asked.

            “Huh? Oh. Yeah. I just slept on it funny.”  John tugged the striped polyester away from his neck another time.

            “Where’s Tyler?” Oliver woke up enough to notice the missing person.

            “He’s pretty sick.  I have to go pick up some Nyquil for him after breakfast.”   

            “Nyquil? Are you serious? You should get him something stronger,” Oliver advised knowingly.

            “Yeah, ‘cause he’s so fat!” James snorted.  All three boys laughed, picturing their skinniest friend as they entered the dining hall. 

 

            “Hey, man. How’re you feeling now?” John entered his room after what would have been a filling breakfast, had he been hungry.  His thoughts were too full of the last night’s dance to consider eating. “Oliver managed to get his hands on some prescription meds.  You up for some codeine?”

            “Prescription?  Sheisty.  But I actually feel great.  Wanna go see if the other guys are up for a game?”  Tyler reached for the ball on his nightstand.

            What the fuck, man? I spent my morning buying meds for you.  John noticed that Tyler was already wearing his rugby shirt and shorts.  Ugh. This is useless.  Useless—isn’t it cool how it comes from “use” and “less”? 

            Oh no.  You’re being weird again.  Let’s not ask if anyone else thinks about these things this time, okay?

             I wasn’t going to; just calm down. 

            “You can.  I have to do something.  Maybe I’ll join in a bit.”  Oh really?  What do you have to do? Homework on Saturday morning? You’re not that much of a loser. Right?

            “’K. We’ll probably be on the green. Later.” Tyler was already closing the door behind him.

            “Later,” John mumbled to the doorknob.  Okay. What are you doing, other than lying to your friends?  ‘Something to do’ – yeah right.  You’ve got nothing to do because you have no life.  It’s your fault, really. 

            No. It’s not my fault.

             If it’s not your fault that you’re standing in your room alone, then whose is it? Why am I standing?  He sat down on his bed. 

             Ugh. Get up and do something.  John got back up and headed to the green.

 

            The rugby game was already in full swing, and John was tired, so he decided to walk around the lush campus instead of joining.  He saw three robins all going after the same worm.  As the fight became more desperate, one of the robins seemed to give up and look around for other prey.  Finding nothing, the lone bird flew towards the glare of the mid morning sun and out of sight.  Though he couldn’t explain it, John felt a sudden shudder and wanted nothing more than to be back in his room. 

            I’m so tired; maybe I’ll take a nap.

            Why are you so tired?

             I guess I didn’t sleep well last night. 

            Yeah, but it’s not like you’ve never stayed up late and felt okay afterwards.  Maybe you’re going crazy. 

            No, I’m just tired.  Crazy people need shrinks and talk to themselves in public.  I just need a rest.

            But John was restless when he got back to his room.  He simply sat on his bed and stared, sometimes trying to make shapes out of the scratches on the door, mostly just thinking about his friends, the birds, and Hilary.

            A couple hours later, Tyler came back, grass stained and sweaty.  “Hey, man. You never showed up. You OK?” he asked between panting breaths.

            “Oh, yeah. I’m not feeling so great.”

            “Ah, well.  We’re all gonna go into downtown right after lunch, so this is your last chance to come.”  Tyler was already in his uniform and turning the doorknob when he said over his shoulder, “Maybe you should try some of that codeine.  See ya later.”

            Hm. I could try some of that. 

            No.   You’re not sick.  Isn’t that drug abuse?

            Who’s to say I’m not sick? I haven’t slept for the past three days, and I haven’t been hungry enough to eat anything since yesterday night.  A little bit won’t hurt me.  He poured some thin amber liquid into the plastic dosage cup, pinched his nose, and gulped. Am I feeling tired yet?

            Just give it a few minutes. 

            Every second seemed longer than the one before it.

            Not working. Try a little more? 

            He chose a larger cup this time.  More minutes passed.  John yawned.  Okay.  I might be getting drowsy.  But just to make sure… soon the bottle was almost empty.  Yep, I’ll finally get to go to sleep now. 

            But don’t finish the whole bottle.  That could probably kill you.

             Don’t worry.  There are still a couple tablespoons left.  Is that a knock on the door?

            Are you hearing things?         

            No. That was definitely a knock.

            John opened the door to see long legs, blond hair, and a smiling mouth.

            “Hilareh…” John struggled to sound confident, or at least unsuspicious. Did you just slur your words?  She’ll probably think you’re some kind of a closet druggie.

            Kind of dizzy.  Ask her to sit down.

            “Hey, John, I was hoping I’d find you.  Where are the rest of your friends?”

            “Uh…they’re some place…can’t quite remember…downtown! Downtown to hangout.”

            “Are you okay?”

            “Yeah…just a little tired…or sick…” John sat on his bed

            “Hm.  Well I just came by to talk to you.  I’ve been thinking a lot about what you asked me.”  Hilary sat down next to him.

            “To dance?  I asked you to dance.”

            “No. I mean about the meaning of being normal.  It’s really interesting.”

            “I don’t think I’m normal,” John laid his head on his pillow, trying but failing to do so nonchalantly.

            “So what?  Normal is boring.”

            “You think so?”

            “Yeah.  At least that’s what I’ve decided.”

            “OK. Yeah. I guess you’re right.” John managed to sit back up, ignoring a sudden wave of dizziness. “But wouldn’t you rather have a normal life with friends and family and a job than be weird and an outcast?”

            Hilary paused.  “Who said you were weird or an outcast?  You’re on the rugby team.  You have a bunch of friends.  You’re isolating yourself.”

            “Oh. Um. Why are you rocking?” John saw the image of Hilary blur and sharpen and blur again.

            “Are you sure you’re okay?” Hilary glanced at his unfocused eyes.

            “What? Oh yeah.” I think she knows. 

It’s okay.  Don’t say anything stupid. “I’m kind of tired.” Way to state the obvious.

            “Do you want me to leave?”

            “No!  Why would you think that?”

            “Because you’re so tired.”

            “I’m not that tired,” John said a little too loudly as he suppressed a yawn. “I like talking to you.”

            “Thanks.  I like this too.”

            She said she likes this.  Maybe this is normal.  This is great.  I wish I could talk to her more…but I’m just so tired. 

            “Mm-hm.  Thish is good.” You’re slurring again. “Do you ever wonder whether animals have feelings?”

            “Huh. Not really, but that’s an interesting question.”

            I’ve never felt this comfortable before.  That may be the codeine talking.  “I’ve never felt this comfortable before.”  John smiled closed his eyes.  Soon, he found himself lying down again.  I wish I could stay focused.  I think she’s saying something.

            You shouldn’t have taken all that medicine.

             And my stomach is starting to really hurt…why is she screaming?

            “Did you drink this whole thing?” Hilary demanded.  She was on her feet and clutching the bottle of codeine syrup.

            “I left at least…some,” John squinted to make the room stop spinning.  All he wanted to do was sleep.

            “This stuff is really dangerous! It says so on the label.  I’m going to go get the nurse,” Hilary said quickly before rushing out the door.

                        Although John was having trouble remembering what had happened in the past fifteen minutes, he knew it was the best quarter hour he had had in a long time.  A sound at his fourth floor window made him open his eyes just enough to see a small bird holding a large worm in its beak as it landed on the windowsill to enjoy its success.

            Everything will be alright.