Finished Fiction

I need to get out. Everything has been weighing on me for weeks now. Staying in the apartment is like letting them marinate in a small pot. A very small pot. The apartment is tiny and too small for my problems. I will surely implode if I don’t get outside soon. There at least, the problems can float around my head instead of crushing me the way they are in here. Maybe they crush me in here because the walls are too close. I wonder how much my troubles would press me if we were living  in a place that was actually big enough for all of us.

Deciding this pontification could take place outside, I grab my camera, Coco, her leash and nothing else. I silently walk passed my mother, who is watching TV in her room and go outside.

Just as I knew they would, my worries disperse. I imagine them as molecules in a jar, put into a slightly larger one. All of them are still there. Their situation is the same in both places. One jar just gives them more room to bounce around in.

The reason for these problems is that it’s mid April and I still don’t know what college I’m going to. I’ve been accepted to all my back up schools, but my second choice hasn’t sent a response. At this point in the game I have assumed that I’m not accepted. Everyone I know that applied to my top choice has already accepted. Beyond this, I don't even know how I expect to pay for college. Sometimes I blame my mother for not having prepared for her future better. I hold my dad at fault too, but most of the anger is usually directed towards her because she is the one I see every day. He lives in Georgia. They separated a couple years ago. I talk to him regularly and we see him sometimes. I prefer not to dwell on their relationship.

Part of the reason for my bad mood is the guilt of not having applied to any schools with significant photography programs. I remember being fascinated with Polaroids as a child and loving taking pictures with the disposable cameras I was always badgering my parents to buy me. The interest stayed with me. I took photography classes and eventually became good enough to make a business of doing headshots and photoshoots. Everyone has always praised my work and even I think I’m kind of good sometimes, but never good enough. I ultimately would like photograph landscapes around the world for a travel magazine, although I don’t know if this will ever happen. Since I have never been sure of myself, I persuaded myself that I didn’t need to go to a college with photography. The colleges I applied to were regular colleges where I can major in accounting, a safer career. I’m good at math, so I know I would enjoy it, but photography is above everything else. What I’ve come to realize, too little too late, is that I can’t do photography on the side because I would learn more and faster being in a school where I would be able to commit more hours to studying the craft. I love photography more than anything in the world, yet I am too scared to pursue it.

The place I have decided to walk to is somewhere I refer to as ‘The Hill’. It is simply a hill that is significantly higher up with a number of bigger expensive houses on it. It is only across the next main street behind where I live, yet I have never been over there. I have wanted to for a while, but the motivation to do as much walking as this exploration calls for has never come to me until now.

I can never walk into a rich or even well-off neighborhood neutrally. There is always a mixture of sadness, yearning and even some anger. I never allow myself to feel them acutely, but I am always aware of their presence.

The residents of this area are aware of me as well. It’s some time after six now. The street lights are on. I am currently passing a group of people talking outside of a house. They are all white as I expect the entire population of ‘The Hill’ is. I am approaching them and as expected, one or two of them look up at me. Their eyes follow me for a couple of seconds and after they are satisfied that I am not looking to start a trend of harassing multiple people at once with a medium sized multi-poo as an attack dog, they turn around. I am only barely annoyed by this occurrance. I knew it was coming.

Suddenly a thought strikes me. I pick up my camera. Raise it to my eye and snap a picture. One of the people who had been watching me before stares at me. I continue to walk by as if what I have just done is not abnormal and a possible invasion of privacy. I wonder if they’re all looking at me now, but I don’t look back.

After walking for maybe thirty more minutes I begin to wonder when I will reach the top. The single street I have been walking on is winding. It’s impossible to tell that it curves this much from the bottom. I begin to estimate how long it takes to get up there by car. Ten minutes? What an inconvenience to arrive at your street only to have to drive an additional ten minutes up the mountain you live on. It must be hard being rich.  

I have come across a house that has caught my attention. It is by no means the most extravagant or appealing house on the block. It’s actually quite small and plain in comparison to the rest. I stop though, because it is one story with a flat roof. For some reason, I think of sitting on that roof and watching fireworks. It’s perfect for it. I know that if I lived in that house sitting on the roof would be it’s most important purpose. I take a picture of the house for all the nostalgic memories I never had there.  

Finally, we come to the top, which is cul de sac of the biggest houses yet. It’s good that we’re finally here because Coco has been walking slower than usual. She’s tired. None of us have ever walked her for this long.

This spot in the center of the street is the perfect place to see nearly the whole city. It’s dark now, so lights are on everywhere. Everything is twinkling beautifully below us. It isn’t every day that you get to look down on many of the places you frequent, unless of course, you are a person who lives on a hill. This is why people love looking out of airplanes so much. It’s amazing to look down and imagine life taking place on those microscopic streets and in the ant houses. It’s also hard to imagine that people live down there when everything is so incredibly small from this perspective. I wonder if that’s what people who live on hills think of those who don’t.  

The sun is completely down now. I didn’t make it up here fast enough, so I missed the sunset. That would have been nice to see. Even still, I am enjoying this view. It’s helped with the dejection I was feeling. Nothing has really changed. The problems molecules are still in that slightly jar, but my head is clearer. The walk hadn’t been for nothing though. I escaped them for a while.

It’s officially nighttime now. I wonder how long I’ve been out. I’m suddenly tired too. I’ve had my fill of impressive view. I decide that it’s time to start down the mountain. It takes half as long to get down as it did to get up. Downhill is so much easier and fun than up. Up is work, but you know. Anything worth doing….

The walk significantly alleviated the pressure that drove me from the apartment in the first place. I can think here again. I even feel like I might be able to figure something out to better my situation. Maybe I’ll start doing headshots. I don’t know if it will work, but I have to try. I need to at least work towards something that will get me closer to my goals.

Once I’m back inside I see that I have been gone for three hours. My mom greets me with a, “I was wondering where you went.” She doesn’t ask where I’ve been. I appreciate that. It makes me feel mature, and telling her where I went would probably include explaining why. I have no interest in doing that.

I head to the kitchen to stare at the freezer until I see something I will give in to eating. Coco comes in reminding me to take off her leash. I remove it idly, thinking of how I’m going to make everything right for myself. She then runs out of the room to find my sisters.

I still haven’t taken her on a walk as long as that one.