Day 123 - Rebirth Story

Rebirth Story

Matthew Ryan Fischer

Tyson’s whole body was itching. It was insanely annoying. He had gotten a haircut and a hot lather and straight razor shave as a treat for himself. It was spring and the spring was always a time of great awakenings for him. The shave and haircut were supposed to make him feel shiny and new, but instead it gave him an itchy feeling all over. He knew the barbers at the barbershop were professionals – they had certainly charged him enough for the touch-up service. He knew they knew their business and wouldn’t have let some strange amount of loose hair get in his clothes and all over him. And yet, that was what he felt had happened. Perhaps it was psychosomatic, but perhaps not. Perhaps they had used a new shaving cream or aftershave that he was allergic to. Perhaps they had failed to rinse his hair properly or brush the back of his neck all the way. He was not the man to tell another man his business, but he felt he was on pretty steady ground here and something must have happened. Or maybe it really was psychosomatic.

It was also an abnormally warm day, and that did nothing to help his mood or his overall wellness of feeling. It had been abnormally warm, bordering on hot, for close to a week. The heat was making him tired and groggy and there was a particular clamminess that was covering him. All and all it made him feel incredibly undesirable. His back was moist and stuck to the chair. He had taken his shirt off to let his body air out and feel the wind from the fan against his skin. He lifted his arms up in an attempt to let the pits dry out. It didn’t matter. He kept sweating. It was fairly disgusting.

Ty’s sleep had been short and uneven. The heat was getting to him. His body couldn’t adjust and his dreams were sharp and claustrophobic and intense. He couldn’t remember them, but when he woke he knew the dreams were the reasons why.

Late afternoon was the worst, when the sun was at its full intensity and his apartment trapped the heat and the setting sun came in the living room window for several hours in a row. If it had been winter or fall he would have exercised at this time, while the evening news was on. It felt like it was close to a hundred, even if he knew that wasn’t possible for spring, but still, it was enough to make him want to nap, not spend an hour on the treadmill.

So far the rebirth of spring really sucked.

Ty’s favorite season had been spring. Always. It had always been spring. Maybe it was the change in temperature from cold to moderate. Maybe there were undetectable pheromones in the air. Maybe it was the extra vitamin D he received from the longer days. Whatever the case, he believed in the power of the rebirth of spring.

Tonight Ty was supposed to go dancing. He had signed up for a ballroom dance class during the winter as a way to get out of the house, get exercise and meet women. He had always had an appreciation for dance, even if he wasn’t very good at it, but the best part came when he got to put his hands on a women and spin her around. As a preteen he had learned the secret of school dances and the awkward excuse to touch another human being. He had never really developed many other tricks for flirting or talking to the opposite sex, but he had always kept the dance card up his sleeve.

Having a trick or not, you still had to be able and willing to play it. Ty was a shy guy and found that he usually ended up going to dance halls and sitting on the sidelines. He watched. He tapped his foot. He picked out who the best dancers were and focused on them. He made up little stories about them and why they were at the club that night. He knew which women he was attracted to and which women he wanted to dance with, and sometimes the two overlapped, but most frequently all they were were little lists in the back of his mind. He was too shy, too reserved, too afraid to make himself go over and say a word, let alone ask them to dance or something more. He told himself he was still having a good time. He really did like to watch people dance. It was amazing the skill and dexterity that some people displayed. But that sort of enjoyment only got a man so far.

The class was a way to make himself become proactive in his own life. That was the theory anyway. He made himself go to as many classes as he could. Schedule wasn’t the problem, he had plenty of time. But more often that not he talked himself out of even this activity. Fear is possibly the worst motivator of all. Ty didn’t know how to win that battle. Still, he did make it to a few classes a year. Especially in the spring. Natural talent aside, he always thought he should have gotten better by now. He had been taking classes for a long enough time. Certainly some muscle memory or rote memorization skill should have kicked in by now. But dancing didn’t work that way. At some point you have to feel it and be comfortable enough in your own skin to let it take you over. A skill Ty did not possess.

Tonight was an organized dance at a nearby community college, totally unrelated to his dance class. It was a test, to make himself get out there and try. He had to try. Every once in a while. Even if he did it poorly. He had to.

It could not have fallen on a worse day. The heat. The constant itching. The overall feeling of disgust. No, this was not a good time to go and try to be calm and relaxed and flirtatious. Ty was going to have to reevaluate his whole theory on the positive effects of the rebirth of spring.

“You don’t dance much, do you?”

“What?”

“In fact, you don’t dance at all.”

She had caught Tyson off guard. He hadn’t been paying attention and hadn’t noticed when she approached. His mind had wandered to sports and he just about ready to leave and go find a bar somewhere where he could get a beer and watch the evening highlights.

“I’m Elaine…”

Ty didn’t respond at first. He was still a little caught off guard and flustered. Elaine had light sandy brown hair that was cut short and styled with a classic side part, bangs that covered one side of her face, and curls all the way down. It was beautiful and elegant and breezy all at the same time. Ty knew the girl had panache just by looking at her. She was unapologetically dressed like it was 1940 and made it look suave and new. Suddenly Ty was a little embarrassed by his white dress shirt and tan slacks.

“You’re supposed to say ‘Hi Elaine’ or ‘Won’t you have a seat’ or something like that. Or you could just start with your name.”

“Ty. I’m Tyson, but you can call me Ty. Everybody calls me Ty.”

“I’m Elaine.”

“Ty.”

“Yeah. I think we’ve got that pretty well covered by this point.”

Ty was once again at a loss for words.

“So I was saying that you don’t dance and you were about to tell me why that was.”

For some reason Ty told her the truth. He thought he should have had a lie in place, something to make himself sound cool or aloof, but all he had was the truth about the heat and the sweat an the itching.

“You sound like you have a lot of problems.”

“Very attractive, I know.”

“Well, now that you mention it, it is every girl’s dream to meet a man with clammy hands that is too afraid to ask them to dance. They always say shy and awkward get the girl.”

“You’re really helping.”

“Because that was what I was trying to do.”

Elaine sat down next to Tyson.

“How’s that? You didn’t even have to invite me to sit down.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“I don’t know. I’ve danced with half the guys here and they were all boring. I was hoping to be entertained tonight.”

“And?”

“Well, at least you’re weirdly interesting. Better than a lot of them can say.”

“Did I tell you about my spring rebirth?”

“No.”

Elaine stood back up.

“Did I… is something wrong?”

“I’m going to go out on the dance floor now. Because that’s what I came here to do. Dance floors are made for dancing. And everyone who dances gets sweaty and has clammy hands. You should know that by now. You would know that if you danced more. You can tell me about your spring renaissance if you want—“

“Rebirth.”

“Whatever. You can tell me all about it, but you’ll have to tell me out there. I didn’t come here to be a wallflower.”

Elaine walked away.

Ty sat there for longer than he should. He knew it was taking too long. He rubbed his hands against his pants to try and dry them off, and then stood. He walked to the dance floor, trying to keep an eye on her and the path she was traveling.

Spring was in the air again and not a moment too soon.

Day 122 - Silence Story

Silence Story

Matthew Ryan Fischer

Davis paused to listen to the silence. He had begun by pausing to take a long drag from his cigar, and in doing so found a moment of silence in which he could listen to the world around him. It wasn’t completely silent – he lived in the city. There was no way it could be completely silent. But it was silent enough. There were things you noticed when there was silence. The noise of crickets at night. A trickle of water from a neighbor’s backyard fountain. Traffic from the nearby street. The distant sound of lovers giggling and tripping over themselves. Or maybe that was the sound of the inebriated stumbling along the street. Or both. He couldn’t be sure. They were too distant and too alike to tell the difference.

The cigar was a Cubita SMS Robusto. It had a hint of licorice and a woody character to it. There were supposed to be notes of chocolate and coffee beans with a robust and spicy finish. Davis couldn’t tell all that. He just liked the way his body absorbed nicotine which made his lips feel tingly and his finger tips light and numb. He didn’t know about the rest. To him it was all just window dressing. Chocolate? Coffee beans? He had no idea if that was what he was tasting. It was like the people that went to wine tastings and just made up scents and hints and textures. Studies had proven people would convince themselves of most anything at a wine tasting. He supposed the same was true with a cigar.

He was having trouble keeping the Cubita lit. Normally he appreciated the long draws that could be had, but he had left this one sitting out for too many days on his porch and the moisture at night and the dry summer days had dried and cracked the wrapper and made it hard to draw from the cigar and keep it lit. He found himself taking repeated and quick puffs to ensure the thing would stay lit.

He did appreciate the silence though. He just sat there on the back patio with Ari and Annie. They were unrelated but unfortunately had similar sounding names. Davis had not picked them as friends because of that fact. Davis wasn’t interested in Annie like that, but he did have an innocent crush on her. Any woman that could smoke a cigar and wear a corset and tell dirty jokes deserved to have many crushes laid upon her. But he had no intention of ever trying anything.

All three just sat in silence and had a drink and had a smoke and didn’t say anything. It was nice. People talked too much. They talked when they had things to say. They talked when they had nothing to say. And they talked every moment in between. And if they weren’t talking, they were texting or tweeting or photoing something. No one could just sit still and be anymore. Everyone had technology ADHD and couldn’t disconnect. Annie and Ari could disconnect. Davis appreciated that. They could just sit together and not talk and simply exist.

Davis had a friend in high school who knew how to shut up. He was one of the best friends Davis ever had.

Davis thought that perhaps he would just shut up. He wondered if he could communicate with his eyes or his thoughts. Maybe the silence itself would convey a message. He had read somewhere that when Clint Eastwood got a movie script the first thing he did was cut out half his dialogue. Sure it added mystery to his characters, but that was what facial expression and acting was for. Maybe. Or maybe Clint Eastwood didn’t like to talk. Or maybe he thought of it as a big joke – to get paid for doing nothing, and then people fell for it. Either way it sure made him seem tough in the Spaghetti Westerns. Davis wondered if he would seem tough if he stopped talking. He wondered if people would ever know what he was really trying to convey. Maybe he would have to buy a pen and a notepad.

“You look funny. What’s on your mind?” asked Ari.

Davis took a long draw from the cigar and stared at Ari. Nothing happened. Slowly he let the smoke out.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Day 121 - May Story

May Story

Matthew Ryan Fischer

The doorbell rang at ten in the morning. Hutch answered his door, but no one was there. He looked around. Nothing. It was a bit odd. Hutch slowly shut the door. He hadn’t been expecting anyone, but at the same time he was a little bit disappointed. Doorbells were full of intrigue and surprise. Strangers rang doorbells. Deliverymen rang doorbells. But then again, so did solicitors and religious fanatics. Still, it would have been nice if someone or something was there. After all, he had answered the door. And it wasn’t like he was particularly slow about it either. Hutch worked in the sales department for an event planning company. He got to show up late to work and leave early and finish his work while at home as a concession for not receiving a raise for the last three years.  Hutch was a fairly honest worker and actually did complete quite a bit of work while at home. Of course there was also a time or two that he did sleep in or claim to be with a client at a site visit when really he was off running personal errands. But he assumed a little of that was to be expected now and again.

Gavin was Hutch’s best friend at the office. That didn’t speak to the depth or strength of their relationship; it simply meant that neither had very many other options. They were the two men at an event coordination company, surrounded by a lot of women. Neither minded it, but they had bonded quickly over those moments when they needed a testosterone outlet.

Hutch told Gavin about the doorbell and Gavin told Hutch about the wonderful celebration they were going to have that night.

“I don’t want to go out tonight.”

“That’s too bad, because you’re going out tonight.”

“Why am I going out tonight?”

“It’s a holiday.”

“May first is a holiday?”

“Yes. And you’re going out.”

“Why?”

“Because raucous things occur on May Day.”

“Raucous things?”

“Raucous things, my young friend. And we are two young and capable men and we should take advantage of them.”

“You make a convincing argument—“

“Indeed I do.”

“But—“

“No. No buts. We are young men and raucous things occur on May Day. There is no argument for that.”

“Explain it to me again.”

“Pagans. Celts. Women who believe in nature and spirits and rituals and things like that.”

“You understand that women who believe in nature aren’t all Pagan hippies looking to have a love affair and that ‘ritual’ is not a code word for orgy.”

“Raucous. Things”

“You just like saying that word.”

“Indeed I do.”

“You make it sound disgusting.”

“Yes.”

“And you know that basically nothing is going to happen tonight.”

“Yes I realize there’s a very good chance of that.”

“But we’re still going out.”

“Yes. Yes we are.”

Gavin and Hutch went to a bar called Triple Crown that was not a sports bar. The bar had no references to the horse race or to baseball. It also had no references to a May Day celebration or anything else that was earthy or pagan or ritualistic. Gavin was not to be deterred.  Hutch made no real attempt to meet any women, or inspire any sort of revelry, and yet it was he who ended up talking to a young woman named Rebecca. He asked flirtatiously if he could call her Becky or Bec and she had agreed. Hutch told her what he knew of May Day, which was very little, and what his friend Gavin thought it celebrated, which was mostly wrong. Bec thought that maybe they were communists, but Hutch didn’t understand the reference.

“May Day celebrates labor and labor struggles. It was very very communist and very very Soviet Union.”

“I thought it was pagans and earth spirits and women dancing around in fields conjuring up nature elements.”

“Labor. But yours sounds fun too.”

“It’s what I heard.”

“You got it wrong.”

“It was what I heard.”

“Are you asking if I’ll go streaking in the park with you?”

“I… is that an option?”

“No.”

“Then no. That’s not what I was asking.”

“Are you sure you’re not a trade unionist?”

“Not that I know of.”

“We could discuss Marx or the proletariat or the struggle.”

“What struggle?”

“I was hoping you knew.”

Bec told Hutch some other facts about May Day that he had never heard of. She explained to him the idea of Christians stealing pagan holidays and assimilating them into their own festivities. Hutch didn’t know what that had to do with spring or May, but he nodded and agreed. He had found that to be a useful tactic when people explained vast conspiracies of history to him as if they were plain and ordinary fact. He figured she was right, but he didn’t know. Bec added that May Day was at one point a day for lovers and kissing and giving candy as part of a sort of hide and seek game. That sounded like a lot of fun. She explained how Valentine’s Day had either been made up or co-opted by the greeting  card companies, but either her explanation was a little jumbled or Hutch was getting a little bit drunk, because it didn’t seem possible to him that the company could invent and steal the same idea.

Hutch left the bar with Gavin, but also with Bec’s phone number. He wasn’t going to get to go streaking in the park with her or discuss the glorious revolution over vodka, but he would be able to call her at some point in the near future.

Hutch told Gavin about May Day. About the other May Day. Gavin had also discovered there was also such a thing as Lei Day, which was primarily celebrated in Hawaii.  A man at the bar had several fake plastic Lei’s to hand out to women, but had quite a few left so he gave Gavin a blue one. Gavin couldn’t remember what the point of Lei Day was, but they both figured it must have something to do with celebrating Hawaiian history or heritage or something of that nature.

“There are too many holidays on May First.”

“I concur.”

“There is no reason for there to be so many holidays on one day.”

Hutch concurred again.

“We need to spread them out. Nobody needs to celebrate that much on one particular day.”

“We certainly don’t.”

The next morning, the doorbell rang. When Hutch answered the door, there was no one there. But there on the front stoop, was a small basket of spring flowers and candy. The flowers were beautiful. There was a card that read “Catch me if you can and a kiss is yours.” Hutch looked for a deliveryman, but there was none to be found. He took a few steps outside so he could look both ways, but seemingly there was no one.

It was a pleasant mystery to be solved, but he thought he already knew who had left him the basket. A bold move, he thought. Not waiting for him to call, and taking the bull by the horns. He liked this girl more and more. Eating a piece of the candy, Hutch thought that May Day really did beat the hell out of Valentine’s Day.