the Rooftop

chapter two

Back inside, Daniel sat on the mattress and looked around. There seemed to another room adjacent to the one they were in. since there was no light in that room, the dancing flame of the candle played with the shadows, making the entranceway look like an ominous and sinister cave. The four bare walls surrounding him all had shoddy patchwork that was accentuated by the flamboyant light, as it tenderly emitted from the church candle.

Tomas was to his left wrapping the heavy chain around a hole in the metalwork door and a beam that protruded from the wall. He snapped the heavy master lock in-between two links and placed an unhinged, oversized wooden door over the entranceway, shielding the only source of natural light from creeping into the room.

Daniel looked around and decided that the house definitely was smaller than what it looked like from the outside. It reminded him of a neighbors plastic playhouse, where he used to play as a child. He turned to his right and discovered a boarded up window suspiciously covered with a colorful bob Marley flag. The reds and the yellows were accentuated by the flickering candle. The green tones were almost ignorable in front of the dark background. The floor was bare cement with patches of faded linoleum. The sheet-rock that once covered the beams on the ceiling was broken down in places, revealing the house’s brown greasy spine. Tomas’ home, however, astonishingly clean; bragged by the room as subtle reflections of the amber light softly caressed the surface of everything in it.

 Right in front of the bed was the desk. It was an antique looking, cherrywood writing table. It had ornate carvings on the edges and on the legs. It was full of books and drawings. The desk had cigarette burns all around it and little mounds of gray and black ash in several places. All the books, it seemed, were by some great writers and some by others that Daniel had never heard of. He recognized Tolstoy and Herman Melville. He had read classic works by Miguel de Cervantes and Shakespeare. There were a couple of authors that Daniel had never heard of, like Hunter S. Thompson and Rodolfo “corky” Gonzales. He noticed a faded matte-finish photo peeking out the top of a violet-colored spiral notebook. He could see an old lady standing next to a rosebush. She had a gentle welcoming smile on her face.

Daniel’s daydream was broken by the sound of Tomas’ deep voice, “I don’t have another bed you can use, but you can stack up a few blankets and sleep on the floor if you’d like. Tomorrow night you can take the bed, if you’re still around”. “Yeah, that sounds good to me,” Daniel calmly replied. Tomas tossed him a few thick, colorful, striped saddle blankets.  “Here, these aren’t much, but they’ll do the job” he assured Daniel.

Daniel took the heavy blankets in his arms. They felt warm and the fabric was rough against the skin of his arms. He laid a few down adjacent to the bed; making it look like a big L. he got his backpack and placed it as if it was a pillow. He saved a pink, black, and yellow blanket to cover himself with and lay down for the night, his feet at the end of the short side of the “L”.

Tomas placed Daniel’s shoes neatly by the door; his own boots were tossed by the side of the bed. Daniel pretended not to notice, but smiled – grateful. He pulled the blanket tight around himself even though he wasn’t the least bit cold. He stared directly at the ceiling, imagining that he was still on the rooftop looking up at the dimly lit stars as they shyly twinkled in the night sky- almost decorating the blanket of red, purple, and blue.

Tomas blew out the glowing flame. The room was instantly enveloped by a cool darkness. Melted wax timidly murmured a unique and mild fragrance into the area as it hardened into long, streaking tears that wrapped around the candle. He lay down on the mattress with his head toward Daniel’s. Tomas hugged his dirty old pillow against his chest and, surrendering to the sinister shadows that suddenly overwhelmed his home; he closed his eyes and attempted to sleep. When he realized he couldn’t, Tomas looked over the darkness in Daniel’s direction. He wanted to stay up sharing stories with his new companion. It had been so long since he last had company.

“Are you still awake”, Tomas cautiously asked Daniel, not wanting to wake him if he wasn’t. “Yes” answered Daniel in a low, whispering voice. “I was just wondering if you were. I really can’t sleep now. Although I am tired; I am not sleepy. Does that ever happen to you?” “all the time,” confessed Tomas, “most nights I stay up listening to music or just thinking”  “thinking about what” inquired Daniel, genuinely interested in  his friends response.

“I mostly think about my life- my past, the prospect of a future.  You see, I don’t have much so I sometimes contemplate the unthinkable and, from time to time, i just want to give up and crawl into a hole- then disappear forever. I really wish there was more to my life than what has become- I feel like I selfishly deserve more; you know, better. Then there are other times when I just lie awake, simply enjoying my solitude, my melancholy. Those are the nights that make me feel like I’ve lost my mind. I just climb to the rooftop and I think about the music and what it means. Is it crazy to feel like the great ones are singing directly to me?”

“Not at all” Daniel responded, knowing all too well what he meant. “Why would you think that is crazy?” “Because,” Tomas explained, “I spend too much time alone and I usually don’t have another person to objectify my thoughts or my feeling. Since I am the only one who can judge them, my pessimistic views tell me that my thoughts are too extreme, too wild for my own good.” Daniel let that thought soak into his mind awhile.

The notion that his newfound companion was insane startled him. It made no sense!  He saw Tomas as an amazingly intelligent and gifted boy-man who had a bad run of luck, but he admired him nonetheless. He thought that Tomas was reeking with potential and that if he was crazy then so was Daniel. After all, he could feel his own passion and fanaticism living inside him, sometimes tearing away at his heart and brain- forcing brute emotion upon his unsuspecting soul.  He could sense his own similar thoughts lingering in his sub-conscience and teasing him with doubt. He was determined to believe that Tomas was not crazy, not at all. He was a kindred spirit that was elegantly broken by a harsh life, a desperate existence. He knew that they would impact each other and subsequently learn a great deal from one another. In his case, he could teach Tomas how to live. And Tomas, well, he could teach Daniel how to survive. They could teach each other about fraternal love and disdain for loneliness. If Tomas would allow him, Daniel would never leave; he would not abandon his friend, his brother—ever.

Both boys lay there, staring into the blank darkness, the misty air subliminally warming the room with every passing breath. Daniel broke the silence, “you’re not fucking crazy Tomas, you’re just lonely” at that instant he realized that there was another thing they shared in common—solitude. They were both consumed by it and they both had conformed to a life of emptiness, yet their hearts were telling them; demanding them to fill the void. He finished with a solemn whisper that almost disappeared as soon as it was uttered, “so am I”

“Not anymore” Tomas said in an honest tone. He reached out and placed his hand gently on Daniel’s shoulder. He kept it there comforting him—and maybe himself. Daniel closed his eyes and for the first time in a long time, he welcomed his dreams—challenging them—no longer afraid. He was free: with nothing left to lose; except his mind. He heard Tomas load another one of his home-made tapes into the radio and heard a sweet ballad by a band he had never heard before. Something about a man named Johnny butt; he had a real strong will to survive. “This is Sublime” whispered Tomas, apparently aware of the fact that Daniel was slipping between consciousness and unconsciousness and that the only reason he was not asleep yet was that song.

"It sure is" thought Daniel as he wandered into a verdant veldt. There were tigers and lions singing along to the song and every blade of that bronze grass seemed to be animated.  His parents were jubilantly riding a giant crimson carousel with real animals.  His mother was astride a purple hippo with bejeweled golden tusks, and her boyfriend—sober, atop an elegant chocolate covered grizzly. This was not a dream to fear; it was so beautiful that he was afraid to wake.