Despite how my mind and definition of success has changed over the years, I always find myself in that same field surrounded by a thicket of oak, elm and poplar trees. The very moment I close my eyes, I can hear the sound of strong winds forcing its way through lush, green treetops and dancing through meadows of long grass and wildflowers. And each time, just before I can feel that breeze on my face, my eyes open and I’m staring at some sort of screen. It’s almost troublesome how it happens no matter my surroundings. Just from that description, one would assume this continuous fantasy I have would be to be one with nature, but that’s not it. It’s the romanticization of starting over.

I like technology and I do enjoy my screens, but it makes life intangible; even a camera can’t catch the moon in the way my eyes behold it. In that same sense, the digital realm could never capture the real subtleties of a person. Social media can’t capture feelings in the same way that socializing can. I dream of a home for myself and my tribe. I haven’t met them all, but I would hope my people would find me in this little neighborhood that hides behind my eyelids and just out of reach.

I want to grow food to feed any living thing that needs it. I dream of front yards covered in vegetables and fruits, ripe for the taking. I dream of trading goods to keep my community alive and well. I dream that no one goes hungry and that anything mother nature provides she’s thanked for. The way we began. The way we appreciated what was provided for us with each prayer and manifestation that slipped past suffering lips. I idealize the past with the same connection of lovers who can never reach eachother. Hindsight and common sense weigh on my heart and shoulders to remind me that this love is unrequited and impossible to obtain. Slipping through my fingers identical to the way of water.

Every day, I’m reminded that this is impossible with the rules our society has set. Everyone is busy trying to survive. There’s no way out, but each time I close my eyes, I’m that much closer.

The night finally cooled down and the celebratory noises stopped for a while. It was just before dawn and, even though it was beginning to warm up, the group sat drunkenly around a fire, barely speaking to eachother. They could finally go out again and honestly Kennedy felt...exactly the fucking same. The young woman hadn’t in the best of places since the start of all of this. Even now, as the fire cracked melodically with the sleepy morning silence, Ken couldn’t focus on celebrating. She felt as though she had plateaued and this soundless, blue hour allowed her to ponder wildly.

She and Milo had been dating for about 5 years and as they neared their late 20’s, Kennedy was starting to think of her thirties differently than she ever had. She passed the bottle to Milo who took a good swig. “All that for nothing,” the brunette male slurred as he passed their second bottle of tequila to the male beside him and Ken. “Like...I had to work in this BULL SHIT.”

“At least you were working, dude,” Dansik hiccuped, “I said I was working from home but honestly...” Dansik hiccuped again, earning a mutual glance between the group around the fire.

“You weren’t really making any money,” they spoke simultaneously, finishing the story they’d all come to know so well.

“Damn,” Dansik groaned, running a large hand over his face. “How many times did I say that tonight?”

“At least 5,” Coraline laughed, snatching the bottle before Dansik could take another drink.

Kennedy laughed, watching the other girl take a swig from the bottle. “I did shit the exact same,” Cory went on, “Like, ain’t nobody about tell me what to do.”

“Oh my God, don’t get him started,” Kennedy tried to save the conversation, but Milo was already worked up.

For the next 5 to ten minutes, Milo went on a tangent about why improper social distancing was one of the key reasons COVID lasted as long as it did. And Naturally, Cory would argue why it was probably some fucked up conspiracy. Ken took the bottle as it went around for the second time during the argument. Still, she and Dansik sat and begrudgingly listened to the snippy exchange between the other two. “Y’all need to just calm down,” Kennedy finally interrupted, southern accent slipping through her juxtapose. “Who knows what this really was? I’m just glad it’s over.”

Her statement, as they often did, humbled the crowd. The fire crackled weakly against the silence, and the group knew their little bonfire was coming to an end. Just as the sun began to peek behind suburban tree lines, Milo nudged Ken from his lap. “I gotta pee so bad,” he mentioned to her as he slipped from the lawn chair and placed a kiss on her cheek before sneaking behind the house.

With Dansik somewhere between asleep and awake, Ken and Cory were left with only each other as it always was before the pandemic. It was quiet at first and neither of them looked at one another. Despite looking at the floor for what felt like 5 minutes, Ken offered Cory the bottle. Cory refused but broke the silence moments later. “But we can smoke?” Cory broke offered, pulling a neatly rolled blunt from behind her ear.

Kennedy perked up, tucking wild blonde hair behind a heavily pierced ear. She and Cory locked eyes for a moment and Ken couldn’t help the warmth in her face or the goosebumps on her skin, so she looked away. “Did someone say smoke?” Dansik slurred from whatever realm he sunk into.

Cory didn’t skip a beat; “Hell yeaaahhh.”

Ken felt like rolling her eyes, instead she hit the blunt as Dan passed it. “So what about you,” she asked, breath tight as she held the smoke in. “How are you gonna get back on track?”

“Well, I sold a couple of things online and released a new album,” He admitted. “I mean, locally, that’s gonna kill. Might have a gallery opening first.”

Just as Ken began to suggest areas to hold the opening, Milo returned. She stood to let him in and sat back on his lap, handing him the rolled cannabis. “I'm just glad I never caught it," he joined in smoothly. "If it weren't for 'essential workers', Kenny and I would have probably lost the house."

Tranquility overpowered the conversation again as the blunt circled the group once more. Kennedy’s eyelids felt heavy when she hit it again and she couldn’t tell if she was high, or sleepy. What she did know was that she was afraid to go to sleep tonight. This entire thing was so surreal, she wouldn’t be surprised if she woke the next morning to find that this tiny taste of regained freedom was all a dream. Everything, including the embers glowing lazily in the pit, was so silent that Ken began to wonder if she was going deaf. “Baby, you getting tired?” Milo read her mind the way he usually did.

The question warranted a yawn, though before it was mentioned Kennedy would be able to hold it back. “A little,” she sighed.

“That’s fine, I’m trashed,” Dansik slurred reaching for what was left of their session.

“So...you probably shouldn’t drive home,” Milo responded, voice level, if not a little drunken as well. He turned his attention to Cory. “You probably shouldn’t either. But you’re grown, it’s just a suggestion.”

“You right,” Cory agreed, finishing off the roach and tossing it into the embers. “I’ll meet ya’ll in there.”

“Alright,” Milo yawned, standing again with a stretch. His bones popped audibly and he made his way to Dansik. “C’mon buddy. Let’s get you on a couch.”

Dan stumbled from his chair and Milo tossed the other males’ arm over his shoulders. He lost his balance for a moment and took a moment to regain his footing. “It’s the blind leading the blind,” Kennedy chimed in with a chuckle.

She was going to go inside until she watched her friend pull a pack of Newports from the pockets of her skinny jeans. This time, the blonde did roll her eyes. “I thought you quit those disgusting things,” Kennedy complained, grabbing the bucket of sand she and Milo kept near the pit and dumping it on the tiny bit of orange peeking through the wood that kept them warm moments before.

“Shit changes,” Cory laughed with a shrug, sparking the cancer stick and exhaling into the now gray sky. “And quick too.”

Kennedy laughed lightly and shook her head. “Ain’t that the truth,” she couldn’t help but admit.

It was quiet for another moment while Kennedy mused, blue eyes watching as the other girl inhaled. “Actually...can I hit that?”

Cory’s dark brown eyes widened as she looked over at Ken. Again they locked eyes, but only for a moment before she ashed it and handed it over. Kennedy grabbed the thing and took the smoke in deeply before exhaling with a satisfied sigh. It had been so long since she hit one of these that she almost forgot how good that rush of nicotine felt. It was like a weight had been lifted from her chest. Cory lit another for herself and Kennedy secretly felt grateful that the other girl didn’t want it back. “So what about you two,” Coraline finally asked.

Kennedy hesitated, looking down at the beat up toes of her purple chucks. She didn't want to, but now was a better time than any to talk about it.“He’s just a really good guy, you know?” the blonde defended weakly. “I just want what’s best for him.”

“And you think stringing him along is best for him?”

“No, chill out-”

“What if he wanna marry you, Ken?”

Kennedy bit her pink lower lip and let her eyes fall to the ground. “He don’t think nothin’s wrong,” Cory continued, taking a puff of her cigarette, triggering Kennedy to do so as well. “Now’s the time to make changes. How long you think this is gonna be gone for? People will ALWAYS be dirty.”

Kennedy felt one of her best friends rants coming on and was about ready to finish this cigarette in one foul swoop. Still, something told her she needed to hear it. Coraline had always wanted what was best for her and Kennedy knew that. Still, she chose independence. She knew how to handle herself, but now, after quarantine with Milo, Ken wasn’t sure how to be alone. A cool breeze pushed hair from her reddening nose and flicked cherries into the wind. Her cigarette was almost gone and up until now, she hadn’t realized how unresponsive she’d been. “All I’m saying is,” Cory went on, flicking the cigarette butt into the darkness that the pit had become. “People can love each other and not be right for each other.”

The words lingered in the air for a moment, faded to a whisper and disappeared into the small wooded areas just beyond the houses. Kennedy shifted her gaze nervously from the cigarette to Cory who was closer now. They held eye contact for a long while. So long that when the birds began to chirp, Kennedy realized she’d lost track of time. “Cory,” she snapped, tossing her cigarette butt as well, coughing lightly. “I know things are stale between him and I. We’ve been together 5 years, you don’t think I know that?!”

Another breeze, but Ken felt warmer now. “I have to trust myself on this one,” she continued, matter-of-factly, “You are brilliant, Cory, and you’re absolutely right, but I know when the right time will be.”

Kennedy and Coraline had this conversation a lot during quarantine and this had been the first time she admitted aloud that Cory was right. Of course she knew, but admitting fault had always been Kennedy’s kryptonite. Cory respected the verbalization, the blonde could tell by the smile that fleeted across the other’s lips. Kennedy would let the other have this one, a smile spreading wide across her own. “I guess Savta was right,” Coraline chuckled, switching quickly to her signature impersonation of her grandmother and summoning a thick, Nigerian accent. “’de moa tings chenge te moa fe stay te same’ (The more things change, the more they stay the same)”

The two laughed and Kennedy linked arms with her best friend for the first time in months. The affects of the alcohol regained strength and the two girls couldn’t stop giggling. They staggered into the house, making more noise than intended. Kennedy would take care of whatever was broken or knocked over tomorrow, but tonight, things felt normal. So normal it would remain.

I looked at the man in the mirror, his green eyes rolling over the suit as I debated on which colored tie matched the gray suit more. From time to time, I would check the clock on my phone, though I knew I was already late. Everytime I checked, I got more anxious and put the phone to sleep only to unlock it again to see that not even a minute has passed. My eyes always went back to the full Windsor I was trying to accomplish. I only knew of three ways to tie a tie: the infamous Windsor, the half, and, my personal favorite, the four-in-hand. I was tying this Windsor for my father because, according to him, the four-in-hand was the poor man’s attempt. He would say it was lazy, and showed no self-discipline and when he saw me...if he saw me, I wanted him to say that my Windsor was perfect or at least think it. The half Windsor was considered slacker attire. “It tells people that you just didn’t put much thought in,” I heard his voice in my head the way I would hear my own thought.

My father’s voice brought my attention back to my phone. Sully was late. So late and my nerves, though shot, were beginning to tighten. So, after 40 minutes of trying to perfect it, I attempted the full Windsor once more. My fingers were moving on their own and my knuckles were beginning to cramp, but I was convinced this would be the one. All the same, my eyes fleeted back to my phone, skittishness settling in my shoulders and pushing them up slightly. I could feel my heartbeat quicken in my rib cage and, though I was completely aware of the changes in my demeanor, I couldn’t control it. My phone vibrated audibly on the porcelain sink and nearly fell off the edge. I caught it and read Sully’s name on the screen. I answered quickly, tapping on the speaker phone option. “Where the hell are you?” I snapped as soon as the line was open.

“Chill out,” Sully’s voice responded. “I’m sure dad won’t mind if we’re late. Besides, it’s raining hard out here traffic’s nuts-”

“Just because someone wouldn’t mind us being late doesn’t mean it’s a free freaking pass. Get here.”

“What do you think I’m trying to do-” I hung up, I didn’t need the added stress as I finished tying my tie. The third time was the charm, maybe there’s some truth to that saying. That or the luck of the Irish, either way the thing was immaculate. Just staring at it eased me, but only slightly. The fact of the matter was, we were still running late. 20 minutes and counting.

Exactly 10 minutes after my 4th cup of coffee, Sully pulled in front of my house. By that time, it almost felt as though coffee was the only thing keeping me moving. I didn’t eat this morning, but I had energy. It was manic energy, yes, but energy nonetheless. Sully was right about one thing, it was raining hard. The drops were heavy and loud against everything they touched and the sky was darker than it should have been at 3 pm. I grabbed the nearest umbrella to the door and open it before taking the short walk to Sully’s car. And in all of 20 seconds, the bottoms of my dress pants were soaked. I got into the car and, despite not looking at my twin brother, I can feel his smug gaze. “I told you so,” I rolled my eyes so hard I was afraid they’d get stuck there. Sully has never been one to stay humble, though many would say the same about me.

The car ride was spent arguing. Or maybe it was more like me arguing with Sully. The worst part about arguing with him was he never really grasped the situation. He just gradually gave shorter and shorter responses until the other party has worn itself out. Generally the other party was me, and more often than not I would lose. “Are you even listening,” I complained loudly just before Sully slammed on the brake.

The car slid and I tightened my grip on the ‘oh shit’ bar above the passenger window. Sully jerked the vehicle to the side of the road and for the first time in the entire ride, I was speechless. My heartbeat seemed to take my voice and for a moment, I couldn’t move. “Are you gonna shut up, Olly?” He snapped, slamming his fists hard against the steering wheel. “ARE YOU GONNA SHUT THE FUCK UP?!”

“…..alright,” I barely even said as I felt the blood rush back to my knuckles.

“This...” Sully sighed and I began to recognize him again. “This just isn’t about you.”

And as if he didn’t almost kill us, Sully pulled back onto the road. The silence between us weighed heavy on my chest. I had nothing to complain about, but now I was stuck with my thoughts. Sully may have felt the same because moments later, he drowned out whatever hung above us with slow, alternative music. In time, the songs began to match the weather and the silence was filled with perfect synergy. It was short lived because 3 songs later, the cathedral came into view. When I saw the stained glass windows, everything went quiet. The rain was still pouring and the music was still playing but I heard nothing. I checked the time; we were 40 minutes late.

“Olly!” I heard my brother first before the sound rain began to sneak into my ears as well. When I came to, I realized, Sully was outside, waiting for me to climb out the car.

I grabbed my umbrella and opened it. Sully rushed underneath. “Oi, where’d you go, man?” He asked loudly as we neared the front doors. “I was calling you for, like, 10 seconds.”

I chose not to reply and closed my umbrella before we entered the cathedral. The entire family was still there. Lucky for Sully and I, the sobbing was nearly over when we burst into the room. We were soaked, my brother especially. The large, red, wet eyes of everyone at the pews landed on us and I wanted to shrink out of existence, but Sully walked in as if he were just on time. It was weird that he wasn’t acknowledging the fact that he almost killed us earlier. The altar boy gave me a program, and it seemed like we were just in time for my speech, of course. I took a deep breath and walked up to the pulpit. The place was quiet, but filled with people. I cleared my throat. “Do you like my tie,” my family and friends chuckled a bit. “Because my dad would have loved it.”

They laughed a little more joyously now and I looked at his casket and the made up face that looked just like my dad but...younger. If it were possible to look younger after death.

The only person Malorie could think of as she walked down the halls made of tiny tile was Oskar Gillion Best. Just the thought of her teenage flame brought goosebumps to the surface of her skin. What changed? Was he married? This tiny fixation might seem like obsession, but to Malorie, it was simply nostalgic excitement. Who didn’t ask these questions when they came face to face with people from a past?

All the trophy cases were in the same places. The glass was barely holding together after decades of quick fixing. Everything looked smaller now; less impressive with far less clout than it had. “YO!” A voice called after her as she wandered toward the gym. She spun around to find Courtney making his way toward her. He’s not who she was looking for, but Mal decided to keep her pleasantries in tact.

“Oh my God, Courtney?!” she feigned excitement, pulling him into a hug. “Look at ’chu!”

“Well, I don’t wanna brag, but,” he chuckled. “The years have been far too good to me.

“And you’re just as humble as ever.”

They shared a laugh before Malorie spotted the large blue eyes of a mousy woman over his shoulder. “This is my wife, Jane,” Courtney added clumsily onto the end of their conversation as if he’d nearly forgotten she was there.

“Pleasure,” Malorie lied, shaking the quiet woman’s hand. Jane was just the type Courtney would marry 10 years out of high school. He’d reached peak rebelliousness and, naturally, he retreated back to the cookie cutter life. At least that was how Malorie saw it.

Jane nodded and kissed Courtney on the cheek, saying something about going off to explore his past or something. Honestly, the girl just seemed like a background character, so when she left, it was back to the high school’s queen and her rebellious king. Still, Oskar lingered in her mind. Courtney disappeared later to find his wife and Malorie continued to the gym from there. She was already late. As an STNA, she was lucky she even made it the reunion at all.

The gym was filled with the music of their generation. “Crunk” generally was the term. Malorie scanned the room to find even a hint of Oskar somewhere. In her anxiousness, Malorie couldn’t find him. It was when she went to the punch bowl that she realized that, in just 10 years out of high school, she had become a Punch Bowl Kid. Unbelievable. Malorie poured herself some of the drink in one of the cups stacked neatly near bowl. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she realized someone spiked it. Or multiple people, judging by the taste. It was more alcohol than fruit punch at this point and it hit Malorie right where she needed it to. Thank God for liquor.

She chugged the drink and ladled herself another, glancing around the room. Still no Oskar, but she had seen a few familiar faces. Like that girl that was somehow popular, though she was painfully boring. Courtney entered a little while later and stole the show as he usually did. This night seemed like a bust, but she remained hopeful. With a pleasant buzz, Malorie thought of ways she could happen upon Oskar. She would know him if she saw him despite any changes. Courtney certainly didn’t change too much, except he seemed to have completely forgotten the pain she’d caused him. “Malorie Cortez,” A voice she recognized almost instantly chimed into her thoughts. It was a voice she’d fallen in love with, albeit an entire key deeper than it had been back then.

She already knew who he was, but she turned in a way that seemed nonchalant. There he was, standing with his dreadlocks pulled into a large bun atop his head. He. Was. Unmistakable. “Jesus,” She lied, “You scared the hell out of me.”

Oskar laughed, but there was cynicism now where there used to be nothing but friendliness. “Now why do I feel like that's not true?” Oskar called her bluff and Malorie wanted to scream in a good way.

“Well you can assume what you want,” Malorie flirted back with a shrug and a smile men generally killed for. “It’s been way too long. What have you been up to?”

When she heard herself speak, she couldn’t help but feel as though her voice sounded a bit shrill. Desperate even, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Well, I host a radio show now,” he answered. “My boss is trying to get me to do a stand up special, but I don’t think my wit is quick enough.”

Malorie laughed too hard. She knew she laughed too hard because Oskar gave her a look that made her feel 15 again. Taking another sip of the punch clutched in her hand, she coughed lightly, forgetting for a moment the alcohol inside. They shared a redolent laugh when she told him it was spiked. The entire time, Malorie thought about whatever hotel he paid for. If he was obvious about taking her home, Malorie probably would have beat him there. Then again, maybe it was the liquor taking over her thoughts. So she told him what she did for a living and all he had to say about it was “still?”

“Whoa,” Malorie attempted to defend herself. “We were having a good conversation until now.”

“All I’m saying is,” Oskar continued, though Malorie was already disgruntled. “It’s been 10 years, you coulda been way farther ahead...”

Malorie was ready to go home after that comment, but, as he ladled punch into a cup, something made her stay. Malorie almost left another three times before she decided to finally just ask him: i“Are you single?”

“I broke up with my girlfriend recently,” Bingo. “I just wasn’t feeling her vibe anymore.”

Before Malorie blinked, her drink was gone. She was buzzed before, but now she was just plain drunk. It was then that Malorie decided that drink would be her last one. Upon that decision, the music stopped abruptly and the old class president began crowd pleasantries. Malorie watched Oskar, but he was watching the stage. A slide show started up, filling the dark room with chuckles and reminiscent stories. For Mal, however, the lights were beginning to blur. Oskar said something about getting closer and Mal followed him toward the front of the stage. Halfway there, they into Courtney who had also drank the sacret poison.

The meeting between the three of them was awkward. For her, anyway. Skar and Courtney fell right back into place as if she wasn’t Yoko. Courtney said something about needing to be seen and everything was a blur now. “Hey,” Malorie began, attempting to correct the slur in her voice. Her heart was beating a million miles a minute. She hoped the vulnerability didn’t reveal itself in her eyes. “What happened to us anyway? We could have of really gone somewhere.”

Oskar smiled condescendingly and Malorie’s heart fell into her stomach. “It’s just weird Ri,” He patronized. “It’s like, sometimes I forget all about high school, but...you’re stuck there.”

Malorie heard enough, but Oskar continued. “No offense but...even in high school, it felt like high school was your peak.”

“And yet...I’m still offended...” she grumbled.

“Look, baby, you cool,” Oskar responded, shrugging. “But I’m way different and you’re...well...the same...”

It was like the air was pulled roughly from her lungs. Like when a person falls flat on their back. Oskar ended his complete massacre of everything she expected to happen with a casual goodbye. The kind of pleasantries suburban house wives and businessmen leave with. So Malorie stumbled toward the punch bowl again. The slide show was over and the president began to speak, but her voice faded to background noise. This, Malorie swore, would be her last drink as she ladled all the alcohol must have sank to the bottom.

Malorie chugged the remaining punch before tossing her red solo cup onto the ground. Her dark eyes scanned the few people left at the reunion and she spotted Courtney. She took in that comfortable, creamy skin and his bright blue eyes. What Mal wanted now, more than anything, was to feel wanted again. She thought of the way he looked at her earlier and convinced herself that he wanted this too. The excitement of the epiphany the dark haired woman swayed toward him. It felt like a mile, but it was really only a few paces and she was in his personal space. “Let me see something,” she garbled, before pulling him into a deep, sloppy kiss.

“...So, since they funded the event, it would only be right for queen and king to go to Courtney and his lovely wife!”The president announced. A light broke though Malorie and Courtney’s kiss while another fell onto Jane who she’d completely forgotten about until now.