Mike goes to the mirror. He feels better. He can see muscle and taut skin. He thinks about his body, the structure of it, how each part is splendidly connected to the next; it is a work of art, like sculpture; it possesses power and energy.
Your mind is soaring!
CHAPTER 15
IT’S THE HEIGHT OF AUTUMN AND MIKE IS HAPPY.
He’s never felt like this before, not in such a pure, undiluted form. Bursts of absolute joy fill his chest. He sees his boring old neighborhood in a whole new way. The slanting light makes everything pop as if it exists in more than three dimensions, a kind of super diorama—front lawn, sidewalk, street, bus, trees, sky, universe, beyond-the-universe. Tamio once told him that when he first put contacts in, he could see the veins in leaves. Mike thinks this is way better than that. When he looks at trees, he can see their life force, how mighty and solid they are. Colors are incredible. The awning over a fruit stand isn’t simply green, it is glowing-green, green-on-fire. After a run in the park, Mike stops and stares at some flowers. The bright yellows and oranges look otherworldly, as if he has just landed in some distant galaxy and this is the plant life. He wonders, What are those flowers?
An old lady stands next to Mike. She has short white curly hair and so does the poodle she has with her.
Old Lady: “Don’t you just love chrysanthemums?”
The universe is truly on your wavelength these days. You were wondering what the flowers were, and now somebody has told you.
Mike feels like he’s living in an alternate reality, a reality he never knew he wanted. Here, things go right; here, everything feels new and mind-expanding; here, everything is in its right place.
Old Lady: “You know, you should rest, young man; you’re bright red.”
Mike gets mad. What is she, he thinks, my mother? He leaves without a word. He goes back to running even though he has finished his run. Amber told him he’d be able to run faster without all that dead weight holding him back. He runs until he can’t run anymore.
But always finish the lap.
He runs. His legs cramp and there’s a sharp pain in his chest. He can barely breathe.
Run past your endurance. That’s how you build up strength.
He runs some more.
When Mike gets; d home, his phone is ringing.
Mike: “Hello?”
No answer. He sees a number he doesn’t recognize on the caller ID.
Mike (louder): “Hello?” He finds it hard to catch his breath. He’s practically gasping into the phone.
There’s a low voice on the other end: “Hello.”
Mike: “My mom’s not home.” He doesn’t know if she’s home or not. “Do you want to leave a message?” Though he has no intention of writing anything down.
On the other end: “A message? No. It’s Val.”
Mike actually has to sit down.
Valerie: “I hope it’s okay that I’m calling you.”
It isn’t. What could she possibly have to say?
Valerie: “I’ve been talking to Tamio. He says you’re, I don’t know, having a hard time or something. We both thought maybe you’d talk to me. You were so nice to me when I first came to school. So I thought I’d return the favor.”
Mike can’t get this straight. First Valerie’s friendly. Then she’s freaked out by him. Then she ignores him. Now she’s friendly again. And she and Tamio have been talking about him behind his back?
She’s far too unstable to be trustworthy. She could turn on you at any moment.
Valerie: “Are you there?”
Mike: “Where else would I be?”
Valerie: “Um… what?”
She heard you, all right.
Mike: “So you called me. You returned the favor—happy now?”
Valerie (big sigh): “Just forget it.”
Mike: “Fine.”
Valerie hangs up. The phone rings again. Another unknown number, though vaguely familiar—because it’s the same one as a moment ago? Is it Valerie with Tamio beside her, both of them cracking up?
Mike (answering the phone): “What?”
On the other end: “My man.”
It’s Mike’s dad. They haven’t talked in weeks. It feels to Mike like a hundred years.
That’s because time is passing more slowly for you. You’re living your life more fully, absorbing every moment.
Dad (tapping the phone): “Hello?” The clicks are really annoying.
Mike: “I’m here.”
Dad: “I’m glad I finally reached you. I called your cell and always got voice mail. I tried the house and always got the machine.”
Mike wishes he’d let the machine get it this time, too.
Dad: “How are you?”
Mike: “Fine.”
Dad: “How’s your mother?”
What does he care?
Mike: “Fine.”
Dad: “There have been some… changes.”
Mike doesn’t care about his dad and his changes. Why should he?
Dad: “We—well, there’s no ‘we’ anymore. Laura and I split up.”
Is he kidding? Mike tries to remember how long they were even together.
Dad: “She had this ex-boyfriend. He was out of town when we met. Anyway, he came back and, well, he’s back.” He’s waiting for Mike to say something. But Mike has nothing to say. “It, uh… it wasn’t easy for me. This thing with Laura—well, for one thing, I had to find a place to live. I floated around awhile, finally found an apartment on Belle Boulevard near the expressway. Mike, it’s good to talk to you.”
This could go on forever. Hang up.
Mike: “Dad, I’ve got a lot of homework.”
Dad: “Okay, I’ll let you go. Let’s have dinner soon—I’m close to some good Chinese restaurants.”
Mike: “Sorry, I have too much work.”
Mike unplugs the phone.
CHAPTER 16
IT’S TOO BAD MIKE CAN’T UNPLUG THE REST OF THE world.
Mom (at dinner): “Why are you wearing a sweatshirt? It’s hot in here.”
But the house is so cold, Mike thinks maybe the pipes burst. That happened one winter and they lit the oven to keep warm.
Mom: “You’ve even got your hood up.”
Mike: “I’m fine.”
Mom: “You look tired. Under your eyes, you look… bruised.”
Mike: “I said I’m fine.”
It’s none of her business, if he’s cold or not, how much sleep he gets or doesn’t get. He does homework and studies at night, and works even better without Tamio around as a distraction. Three-page paper on insomnia in Macbeth? No problem—and unexpectedly appropriate. Test on free-body diagrams in physics? Easy A. Mike’s grades have never been better. She’s not complaining about that.
Mom: “Your father told me he spoke to you. He wanted to tell you himself, that he broke up with that woman."-1p w t”
Mike: “More like she broke up with him.”
Mom (clearing her throat): “Maybe you’re wondering where I’ve been these days. I’m making and keeping appointments. Isn’t that good?”
Mike stares down at his chicken potpie. He takes his fourth bite. One more bite before he can go back to his room. Too bad it’s a potpie—he can’t make a clock face out of it. The bites in his napkin are burning his leg, but at least it feels warm.
Mom: “I’m seeing a therapist. Her name is Nora.” Pause. “Are you listening?”
Mike: “You’re working. You see a therapist. Nora.”
Mom: “You sound so angry.”
Mike: “I’m not angry!” Not about that, anyway. He’s trying to keep count. He wonders, did I just eat my fifth bite, or put it in the napkin?