“A Lesson in Sanity”
CLICK CLICK CLICK. My gun jams as I’m staring down the barrel of my rifle into the eyes of my enemy. He fires a stream of bullets into my immediate direction as I seek the nearest cover. Dust and debris smoke into my face, and all I can see is a haze of tan through my dusted goggles. The street barrier I am crouched behind is being torn apart by a 50cal machine gun 37.6 feet away. Tap, Rack, Bang. My training in the Marine Corps has taught me how to deal with a weapon malfunction, but I was not prepared for my unit to be slaughtered in front of me; and to be left alone to fight 87.6 guerilla figh..RING RING RING!
Eighth period is over and there’s a half scribbled problem on the board as the kids stare blankly at my distant stare. I look down at my chalk-covered hands and wipe the sweat from drenched forehead. “Homework is on page 262 tonight and don’t forget about the test on Friday” I announced, as the kids rushed out of the classroom. As they leave I can hear mutterings of discontent, “What the hell is wrong with this guy!?”
Transitions were never easy for me and they’re even harder when you’re constantly being watched. Sinking into my spinning chair I let my head tilt back in both relief and relaxation. The war is over. The war is over.
Grabbing my shoulder bag and black pea coat, I left my classroom and ventured through the halls of Summerset high. They were plain and repetitive, comprising of rows of lockers after lockers after lockers in suicidal monotony. A sea of green so unsettling I’m surprised the kids can suffer through the long day with such an eye sore inhabiting such abundant space. Although, I suppose their version of monotony far exceeds my current apperception of the concept. At any rate, I left the school and began my walk home. I don’t have a car yet; spending copious amounts of money on alcohol will have that effect. It’s only an hour walk, which isn’t usually that bad except this winter has been a dreadful one. The wet snow seemed to leap off the precarious ledge of the street lamps and land solemnly upon the smooth sidewalk on which I walk. The street was rather drab, cobblestone walks and brick buildings made up the neighborhood, and town banners were lynched across street lamps in sequential enjoyment conveying messages of welcome and a winter celebration to be held. A “celebration” I will certainly not be attending.
A light blanket of snow covered these streets. The same streets that have bore witness to 16 murders of “gang related violence”, misleadingly safe during the day as the hussle and bussle of its citizens make use of its welcoming features. Eyes burned wide open, teeth shining whitely bright, and an emotionless expression woven in their faces. My stomach turned in disgust as I thought about these rats…just trying to find their way through the maze. Thoughts of broken men are black deaths, a liberating experience.
Nearing the end of my “awe-inspiring” walk, my apartment building came into view. Facing east, the snow has melted slightly, turning into a greyed slush. A building of 7 stories made of all brick; simple. I entered the sad, sad excuse for a garden that serves as the path to the main entranceway, more of a jungle than anything. Uncared for apple trees amongst other plants that have overtaken the stone pathway with vines uprooting the stone that has clearly lost it’s place through the years. Branches of old greyed trees hung over the path that served more as an obstacle than an aesthetically appealing addition. I trudged my way into the lobby and headed for the elevator. A woman was talking to the landlord, Gordon, and she was unknown to me as far as I could tell from behind.
I pushed the “up” button and apathetically waited for the elevator. I couldn’t help but eavesdrop on their conversation, as I simply had nothing else to do.
“Yes, you’ll be on the 7th floor. Room 703” said Gordon.
“And as for your bags..”
I pressed the elevator button quickly and repetitively. Faster. Faster. No no no no.
“Hmm. I’m sure Jack would help you! JACK!!” yelled that bastard.
Oh god no. I shut my eyes and let out a sigh of complete affliction. I couldn’t help but picture that short stubby man jumping up and down waving at me in his green sweater vest and crooked glasses. Just as I prepared to smile and turn around a loud ping signaling the elevator arrived echoed through the lobby. “Of course”, I muttered to myself.
I turned slowly only to have the wind violently ripped from my lungs. The woman stood there smiling in perfection. My heart sank, and for the first time in a long time..a sincere smile entered my face. She was short, but not too short, and her hair a shade of brown that gave off a feeling of security. Her eyes were brown as well, but had depth to which I saw no end. She had a figure that wasn’t too robust, it was balanced so incredibly; I was at a loss for words as I stood with a dumb smile upon my face.
I walked over to the two only focusing on her. Gordon began speaking, but his words passed meaninglessly somewhere else in the room where absolutely no one gave a s*** about. She looked at me with a smile and said, “Hi, I’m Emma.”
I nodded giddy like a child, but I had to act cool. Act cool dammit!
“Hi, I’m Jack. It’s nice to meet you”, I said.
Really? Hi I’m Jack, it’s nice to meet you!? That’s the best you could come up with?
“Yeah you too! And you don’t have to help me with my stuff. I can manage,” she said to me in a lovely tone. Her smile pierced my chest like a 7.62x39mm.
I didn’t hesitate to respond, “No, I insist! I’d love to help!”
We walked together to the front door, and with each step the fires built within my heart creating a bliss that I am completely unfamiliar with. The doors closed behind us and we took a right to the parking lot. As we approached the van the cross winds blew dust and debris into my eyes. Cautious of IED’s, we approached and fanned out. I took point and anxiety built to the point of hysteria, but I had to keep collected. This is no place for weak men. I cautiously reached for the handle of the door..
“I got it!” Emma said as she put her hand on mine and grabbed the handle and swung the door open.
My heart now at my feet, I reached in and grabbed a box. And like clockwork, Gordon came scurrying out with a hand truck. This guy never skips a beat.
“Here! Here! Use this!” he exclaimed.
I swear I have no idea where this guy gets the energy or enthusiasm; it’s unbearable.
“Thanks Gor, I got it from here,” I said with the most apathy I could possibly muster. He scurried back into the building whistling as he went.
Emma looked at me and smirked, “Is he always that uhh..enthusiastic?”
Laughing, I said, “Yeah he is. He means well, but is a little much.”
She laughed, “A little!?”
We loaded up several of the boxes and made our way to the elevator. I pressed the up button with the utmost affinity. I have no idea what it is about this girl. I have never felt this, ever. I don’t even know her, and yet I feel as though I have my entire life. Shortness of breath and a tense feeling in my chest of excitement and fear, any other day I would’ve thought I was having a panic attack. This was a good feeling. Something new. New is good.
The elevator opened and we entered together. She pushed 7 and I didn’t know what to say. I’ve dismantled bombs and now is the time that I choke. There is something very wrong with that, or something very good. The door creaked open as we exited and made our way to her room. She led and I followed. She moved through the decrepit hallway, whose paint was peeling and molding, with such an elegance my mind was left in a state of fascination. I guess Murphy had it slightly wrong; even in the face of everything going wrong, it only takes one thing for it to be all right.
“So Jack what do you do?” she said.
I looked up and realized how terribly awkward I had just made things by staring off into the distance the whole walk.
“I teach math over at Summerset,” I said. I began feeling sick for no reason. Every word I said felt entirely wrong. The more I thought about what to say the less I thought about what I was actually saying during the time I spent thinking. Every thought drew blank and my stomach was firmly lodged in my throat.
“That’s interesting! You like it?”
“After my old job, there has been very little that could do that.” I said, but quickly changed the subject.
“Here you are. 703.”
She grabbed the door as I wheeled the boxes in and placed them down. I was amazed that her half furnished room looked better than mine. She had a brown couch that looked weathered and dark green walls that have not endured the years well. What a terrible color choice for any room. We exited and as we approached the elevator I told her I would drop my bag off in my room and meet her down there. The elevator doors closed with a certain definitiveness as she left my curious eyes. I headed to my room just down the hall from her’s as coincidence would have it. My head flooded with questions and emotions I have yet to encounter in my career. She would never want someone like me; why would anyone? I’m broken. Every and any step I imagined taking forward was plagued with complexity and fear. One step forward would be two steps back. Progress in the negative is something I am long familiar with, yet this one brings me a sorrow plagued with inadequacy. I opened my door and quickly threw my bag into my room. Shutting the door quickly I moved the elevator with haste. Down, I am going.
Riding the elevator down I could feel my heart beating quickly, pounding at my chest like a mother angrily pounding on the door of their rebellious teenager’s room. I closed my eyes and saw her face in my head, and even just the thought of her made my smile extend ear to ear. I took a deep breath in as the doors were about to open, and open they did. I walked out half smiling to myself looking down at the ground and as I looked up I saw her standing there with a man. He looked like he came out of a GQ magazine. Hair shaved on the sides with the top long and gelled, sweater vest, skinny jeans, and glasses to complete his appearance as a jester. Standing at about 5’4 he wasn’t the tallest, nor the biggest; he couldn’t have weighed more than 130lbs. I walked over to them to talk to Emma. Towering over them at a whopping 6’2 186lbs, I felt like a giant. My physique still held intact from my active duty days; I couldn’t just let that go. Approaching them closer she turned with a smile.
“Jack, this is Nate! My fiancé.” She said.
This is the life I know all too well.
The smile disappeared off my face as I extended my hand, “It’s nice to meet you Nate.”
He extended his hand with a genuine sincerity, which exuded as our hands met. I could see why she would go for him. He may dress like a fool, but he’s a good man. Something my cynicism and actions would prevent me from ever being.
“Hey listen I really appreciate the help with the boxes, but I can take it from here. I don’t want to miss moving into our first apartment,” he said as he wrapped his arm around her waist.

I wove a smile onto my face and nodded.

“Thank you so much Jack, really. It was so nice of you,” she said.

“Yeah no problem. I’m sure I’ll see you two around,” I said and then quickly headed for the exit. The grand exit. Doors of frosted glass with gilded door handles aching to be treated as heavenly. I pushed them open, leaving with a proper disposition. I shoved my hands deep into my pockets as it was near freezing temperatures, but I didn’t care; I needed air.

Heading downtown it was nearing 8 P.M. and the coldness was becoming even more bitter. Downtown brings the same perspective as usual; people seem to be such a constant it demands questioning of where true diversity lies. Walking around aimlessly exercising their freedom; that I so costly provided. Yet I find surprisingly little value in the freedom they hold so dear. Cost gives us purpose. It’s when you have everything to lose that you truly care. How can anyone be free with the weight of everything they care about hanging by a thread? A thread that so desires to be broken to show it’s worth.

Walking even further now it’s almost 10 P.M. and the streets begin to show their true colors through the white snow. Yelling and shouting from apartment buildings, crashing plates against underserving walls, and angry clerks kicking out shoplifters. Off in the distance I hear what sounds like a fight erupting. Normally I’d disengage from situations like that, but there’s a certain emptiness in the air tonight. How can I resist? I walked towards the sounds of disagreement, which led me to an alley. About 8 feet away from the entrance a kid desperately came sprinting out only to be grabbed by the back of his collar and violently ripped to the welcoming cement. Quickly my eyes shot to the face of the boy from recognition and realized it was a student of mine, Parker ---. His face was cut and bleeding as he was being dragged back into the unlit alleyway by a man with a raggedy face. Parker was kicking and attempting to yell, but the man who seemed almost twice parker’s age placed his forearm firmly against Parker’s atoms apple and squeezed tightly. I ran quickly grabbing the man by his shirt and punched his jaw right below his ear shattering it. Staggered and unable to speak the man tripped over his own feet and fell crudely. Quickly moving to Parker’s side I picked him up onto his feet and gave him my jacket; he was shivering violently.

“Hey! Listen to me. You’re getting out of here, now!” I said as I waved down a cab.
I could hear footsteps rapidly approaching from the alley. I handed the cabby a 50 and told him to take the kid wherever he needs to be. I turned around to see 3 men haphazardly assessing their friend’s injuries. They looked at me and I at them. Normally I’d weigh the options and accept that running is clearly the logical choice, but how could I resist? I was still wearing my dress shirt and tie from class earlier today. Rolling up my sleeves I walked with intent towards them. The middle one charged. Rear leg kick to the chest. Left attacker threw a right haymaker. Duck, right straight to the abdomen, left hook to the temple. Third attacker threw a left straight from behind. I bent forward to avoid the punch and kicked behind me to stun him. Middle attacker attempted a kick as I was leaning. I blocked and caught his leg, then pulled his leg towards me and threw a right elbow directly on the nose. Third attacker grabbed my shoulder from behind. I used my left hand to peel his grip forcing his arm to rotate so his elbow faced up. With a decisive downward elbow strike I snapped his elbow at the joint. Stepping over one of the fallen men I walked over to the one who was originally dragging Parker. I grabbed him by his shirt, looked deep into his eyes and said, “You’re ever near the kid again, you’re a dead man.” I pushed him down onto the cold, wet, and accepting pavement.

Walking back home the cold embraced me as a champion. This soon faded as a chill entered my bones. It dug and dug as it tore me apart. I hailed a cab because I could not endure the torture any longer.

It was now about 2am, and I was finally back at my apartment building. Making my way through the garden I reached the front door. The cold steel handle penetrated my skin with a definitive shock that I knew what would be behind it. A mess of wires and substances filled the back of the van. The hair on my neck stood so fast I thought they would leave my body. A cellphone that was placed on top of the wires lit up and began to vibrate. I turned and ran quickly with the word “IED” fleeing my mouth. The sweat ran off my face as I sprinted into the wind towards an endless myriad of sand. A loud explosion followed as I was lifted off my feet and thrown violently into an embankment on the side of the road. The wind had been knocked out of me, and I staggered to my feet gasping at the seemingly empty air. Steadying my rifle snugly into my shoulder I surveyed the area.

The door flung open and I fell backwards landing onto the cold pavement.

“S***! I’m so sorry,” said the figure. It’s face was dark and unsettling as the only thing distinguishable from the shaded face was a glint off of their glasses. My fists clenched tight enough to squeeze the life out of a rock. Not out of anger, but of frustration. I closed my eyes and inhaled a cold chill to reaffirm where I was. I stood up with distinction and rage. I grabbed them by their coat collar and slammed them into the door. The door bent inwards from the force, breaking the hinges slightly; not all doors can be opened two ways. Fear and shock ran through them and into me like a stream into an ocean. Foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog, it only took me a moment to realize who I was holding. I let her go, and distraughtly opened damaged door.

I walked through the halls with a hollowed purpose, intently without intent. I rode the elevator with sweat boiling on my skin. As I got to my room, I kicked the door in breaking the two of the three hinges. Rage was a separate entity, a fire inside, so hot. It was aching to be released, aching to consume. I was not a human, but a vessel for a beast that accepted nothing but death and destruction. I fell to my knees as the fire consumed me, and I only saw one thing clearly. The window illuminated a god like glow, and knowledge was a burning desire I had evaded for so long. Tears boiled as they ran down my enraged face. The fire rose and made its’ way to the bay window. Stepping out onto the ledge of the seventh story the cold whipped violently. Then it all stopped. A silence and warmth of comforting welcome overtook. I looked down at the garden below. The path wound like a snake, and there was little left to consider.