7/22
At the top of my hill, in what I called as a child “the Big Circle,” I am managing what seems like forty little kids, who are running around wildly. My mother and I, along with a few friends, run a summer camp out of my house, and a large brick stadium.
At the Big Circle, the sun is beating down on me, and I can feel my skin burn deep, as though my veins have lit on fire. My mother is coming up the hill with her group of children.
“Mom!” I shout. I start walking down towards her. “Do you mind taking over for a few minutes while I run to get my sunscreen?”
We begin to bicker, in part because she says she does mind, and I am astounded. I’m burning! I’m turning red before my own eyes! We do this for each other all the time, for bathroom breaks and five-minutes-mental-health, so why not now? But she is insistent, and walks along with the kids off the street, into the woods. “Bitch,” I whisper, quietly so the kids won’t hear and pick it up. My friend Chandie is coming up now, and she says she’ll cover for me, and we pick at my mother for a few minutes when I come back.
Soon, it is nighttime, and I have led my kids back to our stadium, where we sleep. Gabe and Chloe are there, and Gabe looks refreshed. Chloe is stressed—what is new about that? We walk to a cafe to eat, and gossip about the children we like, and the children we can’t stand.
And then, the lights go out.
A sports stadium is, even during an event, somewhat frightening—all metal rafters and ugly brick. At night, without power, it is terrifying. There are a few scattered emergency lights, but no more. There is no storm outside to have caused this, and we can hear clearly through the walls quiet. Chloe clings to Gabe, and he has trouble being the brave one of our trio.
“What do we do?” Chloe whispers. “Where do we go?” I shrug; Gabe does too. We slowly trudge back to the room Chloe and I share, making care to be quiet. Kids are sleeping. And plus, what if axe-murderers happen to wander the halls? We’re too young to die, damn it.
As we round a corner, suddenly there is a room illuminated by dim green-ish light, and on the counter of a serving station is a large white porcelain mask. I remember it as being a mask to help people breathe, something that stimulates the throat. Gabe holds it in front of his face and starts to dance, and we giggle. What are we worried about? we ask each other. It’s a fucking heatwave, the power company is struggling, the electricity will be back soon. We’re almost drunk with this belief we’ve escaped something, and we’re dancing together to this silent music, just shaking like it’s some sort of religious experience
and then the lights really go out, and Gabe is strapped to some table, the mask on his face, and as Chloe and I scream, we realize he is dead. And we try to pull it off, and eventually we can, but all we can do is sit and look at it, holding it far away from us, afraid it will kill us too.
