I had to get the heck out of that room!
"I have to do laundry," I lied, running out of the room. I'll be darned, if I didn't forget to bring any laundry with me, or even just the shirt. He must think I'm a real weirdo.
Luckily, Stanford was gone when I'd gotten back. I reckon he didn't want to be around me after this morning. I was on my way to my Wednesday church service, when I ran into someone from my chemistry class.
"Hey Fiddleford!"He called.
"Hey there friend! What can I do for you," I waved back. His name was John Joe Jeremy, he was nice enough, and I liked his ponytail. Though I reckon, I hadn't spent much time socializing with my peers and what not.
"I'm short on volunteers for my study, mind sitting in?" He asked.
"Will it be long?" I asked.
"Not at all, in fact, I just need you to take this. It's a new medication, it should help with things like nervousness and depression," he explained.
I held the tiny piece of paper on my fingertip.
"I'm not nervous or depressed," I said defensively.
"This is college, we're all nervous and depressed!" he said.
"Alright, I'll let you know how it works," I smiled.
"Hey thanks! Come find me in a week for another dose if it goes well!" He called. It tasted bitter.
It was getting late, service started just after sundown in an old Baptist church on the edge of town. It was creaking, moss covered, and could easily be mistaken for abandoned. The stained glass glowed in the dusk, as if a great fire was burning inside. I felt the heat like it was a scorching iron, so much so I couldn't make myself cross the threshold. Since I got here, I'd been homesick for the humidity, sounds of the little critters that would fly around the vast skies. I missed my mama, too. Before I left I'd secretly sworn never to return, and yet here I was still looking for home when I was supposed to be exploring the world. I reckon it didn't make a lick of sense. I was too smart, too soft, too quiet.
I could hear the preacher speaking, his words branded on me. Fiddleford the freak. I did what I was told. I was good. Yet the love they spoke about wasn't made for men like me. The ground under me seemed to grab hold of me, like devils trying to pull me straight to hell. I began to panic, I reckon I didn't want to go to hell. I'm good I swear, I prayed. I had been condemned for a long time, Fiddleford the Freak wasn't a name you earned just because you left town to be a fancy scientist. You leave town because of that name. I got out. I felt whiplashed from nostalgic to hate filled. It was overwhelming, and purifying. I sunk further and further into the earth like quick sand. What had I done to cause God to smite me? What could I do now, to stop it? Nothing. I let go until I was consumed by the earth. I reckon I didn't taste too well, as it spit me right back out. Only I'd found myself in a world with greener grass, and a less severe sense of gravity. I felt nearly weightless as I walked home. All the horrible thoughts I had seemed to have stayed behind in that other world.
When I made it back it was 2am. Stanford was surrounded by books in his tight shirt and short shorts. I collapsed to my knees in front of him.
"I need to make a confession," I said, hands clasped, pleading with God, looking into the eyes of Stanford.
"I'm not sure I qualify, but I'll listen," he smiled.
I looked at him and his rough exterior. His dark features, mysterious and serious. His tough persona, and aggressive ways. His busted nose, and cut lips. His lips. I crawled to him like the deprived sinner I was. His lips were my salvation, and I wanted to be saved. I reached to touch his heavenly face, wrapping my hands around him, and pulling him into me. We melted into each other, until we were nothing but a puddle of sweat. I woke up in that same sweat.
What was that? A dream? It couldn't have been fake. I remembered the feeling of Stanford's skin on mine. It had to be real. His side of the room looked neat and untouched. I couldn't trust that it was real, the world seemed too unchanged for something so consequential. What did John Jeremy give me?
