4.20 Changes
I can’t hear the professor, or anything really. The only sound I hear is the sound of my heart, beating faster than ever before. As it repeatedly crashes against my sternum trying to break free from the cage that is my body, the sound echoes through my head, amplifying with each beat. Meanwhile my stomach is actively trying to climb out of my chest. I try to focus on the presentation, but as soon as the words become visible, my stomach starts to claw out of my throat, inch by inch. It takes everything I have to just keep my eyes open and not collapse from the pain. Did I eat something bad? I can’t even remember what I ate, but my intestines rebel against my body as if it were something truly heinous. I feel like every part of my body has given up on me all at once. No, every part of my body has decided to attack me all at once, from my eyes burning to the unbearable itch that I feel for every hair on my body. When class is dismissed, it takes me time to find the power to stand up. Every step I take exiting the class pains me. I grit my teeth with each step, feeling them force their way back into my skull.
I stop short of the entrance to drink from a water fountain, hoping to calm whatever hurts. Water is the universal medicine, part of the cure for every illness. Today, it does nothing to ease my pain. As I step outside and into the sunlight, I feel as if I’m about to burst into flames. I struggle to grab my phone, only for the weather to be a perfectly normal 55 degrees on a fall day. I can feel myself sweating through my clothes.
Black people can get sunburn, I know that. I always apply sunscreen, not only to prevent burning but aging of my skin. Despite that, my skin is already starting to peel. I pull my hood over my head and tuck my hands in my pockets, trying to avoid the sun touching my skin. I’ve never wanted it to rain so much in my life.
“I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us,” I find myself mumbling Romans 8:18. Am I losing it? No, I quote the Bible all the time. What’s going on with me?
Shit, I’m getting dizzy. I’m not going to be able to make it home. I’d usually take the thirty-minute walk home from campus. I need the exercise, but I won’t make it today. I need to take the bus. Before that, I need to gather myself. I spot a tree large enough to cast a shadow. I drag myself towards it, trying to keep as much of my body in the shadows of buildings as I can. When I reach the tree, I slide my back down until I’m beneath it. It doesn’t solve my problems, but it provides some slight relief from the sun.
“Weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning. Psalm 30:5.” Eyes closed resting my head against the tree gives me a brief a moment to catch my breath and gather my thoughts. Even if it does nothing for my pain. I thought I could just stay here until dark, but that doesn’t solve my other issues. I just have to make it another block to the bus transfer station. I take route 31 and it’ll stop a block from my home. That’s all I have to do.
I lean against the tree to force myself up. Kareem can get stabbed and thrown through a window while starving, I can walk a grand total of two blocks. My body has the urge to dive for shadow but I keep my hands in my pockets, my head covered with a hood and face down. It’s slow, but step by step I make it towards the transfer station.
Inside, the lights are dim and I can rest on a bench. Another brief reprieve from my mysterious ailment. Busses entering and leaving the station fill me with rage. I’ve never been bothered by the sound of a bus before, but now I’m understanding just how damn loud they are. When 31 pulls into the station I swipe my student ID and take a seat and block the window with my backpack. Even with my eyes closed, I can feel people staring at me, almost like an extra sense. I open my eyes and glance up to see several people turn their heads. I wonder just how bad I look right now that I’m drawing attention. I pull the chord for my stop, and limp off the bus.
“Have a nice day,” the bus driver’s words hang from her lip as she gets a look at me.
The walk home is no better than campus. I try to walk as fast as I can but my body just doesn’t want to cooperate. Still I manage to make it. I turn the key and walk inside, slamming the door closed behind me. I don’t mean to slam it, but I just closed it harder than I thought. I toss my backpack to the ground and then collapse onto it. Kareem keeps this place way too cold, and way too dark but today, I welcome it. I’ve never been so glad that he keeps all the windows closed. For some reason it seems to give me a moment of relief. I can just lay here all day.
“You’re home early,” Kareem’s voice easily cuts through all the noise in my head. It’s the clearest thing I’ve heard all day. I didn’t even notice him sitting on the couch when I came in.
“Hey, Kareem. Can we do this another time? I’ve had a really rough day and had to skip two of my classes.”
“Yeah, I can tell you had a bad day. You look like shit.”
“What,” I don’t have the energy to argue, and I hope he’s not picking one.
“I said you look pathetic.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me, your day is about to get a whole lot worse.”
“What?”
“You saved me, so let me repay the favor.”
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