One of those summers

You know those summers that drive people mad? So hot, people lose their minds! With no water available during the day, blackouts all night, clouds of bugs, some you had not seen in your entire life, car crashes, looted stores, bar fights, y'know? At this age, you probably already saw two of these.

The police stations were always crowded, couples caught having sex in the back of the cars, sitting beside couples that have been arrested for domestic violence. The hospitals were so full you couldn't get a single paper tissue; people were passing out, people shouting that they were about to die. Nine months later, bam, the maternity hospital was full.

By the end of the spring, I met Cas. You know those people you can't feel comfortable with because they remind you that old bully in school who used to steal your lunch, or simply because they have bad teeth? That kind. He used to sell used cars. With that look, I have no idea how he could get a living out of it. But he was no bad person. None of us could say precisely how and why he became a friend, or who brought him to the group, but we left him there, cause, y'know, he was not a bad person. The same way I never got how he was always with us. No one ever invited him; no one had his number! But he was always there, trying to be nice, despite those teeth. He really put some effort on that, y'know? Drinks on him, always bringing a nice dessert to our barbecues, never allowing anyone to walk home, always giving everybody a lift. Once he lent me his car, can you believe it?

When we referred to him as "nice stranger dude" for the fifth time, it was clear he became part of the group. We just didn't know what to do with him, but there was no reason to cast him away. He was the early bird, always getting tables for everybody, setting everything up; he would stand so all could sit down, he kept the glasses full, always smiling, even though no one could include him in the conversation. But don't get us wrong, we tried! That's how we discovered he sold used cars.

There was this time at the bar; it was kinda early. I recall that day clearly. You know that beer you longed to drown yourself in with a side helping of sadness? So, everybody was seated there, venting out our jobs and drinking some more to soft the tiredness out, then it was his turn. Everybody is leaning their glasses on the table, and he was there, holding his on the very same position, the very same smile on his face. We looked at each other, waiting for him to say anything, but he was there, still. So, someone decided to ask what his job was, and he said about the used cars, so someone else asked if the business were doing ok. "A-ham". Can y'believe it? He didn't alter the smile. Creepy! I think he didn't even know what to do with so much attention — poor guy. Sometimes we tried to run away from him, but we all agreed he was never on the way of anything, so we let him there.

By the way, shortly before that evening, there was that accident at the soda factory, remember that? That big abandoned brick building between the second and the third exit before getting here. Crazy shit! When the news arrived, everybody went desperate to find out if their relatives were ok, because every single person in this town had at least two cousins working there. It was this giant leak of soda syrup. With the heat by that time, it turned into sludge on the road, lying there for more than two months waiting for some heavy rain to wash it all out. When the wind blew in from the south, you could get it in the air! It was so damn strong you couldn't smell fried onions and garlic in your own kitchen. For a while, we gave up seasoning our food; everything ended up tasting the same in the back of our throat. Four generations later, we don't drink any soda in this town.

Driving over there was getting more and more dangerous. The road was sticky, and 'cause all the sugar; it was hotter too. Some things were not arriving in town anymore. Dude, seriously, we were having some supply issues on many items caused by soda.

So, one of our friends used to paint cars for a living, and he was telling us how all the work was on hold because all the material they needed wasn't arriving at the supply stores. Cas heard him telling us that, of course, and assured he knew where to find it all. We asked where it was, he kept the secret but gave his word to pick it up at the weekend. He did know, wasn't making anything up, he only didn't mention it was on the other side of the road, passing the exploded factory! People tried to give him the money, but he said to hold, he was going to bring the receipt 'cause he was going to negotiate a better price yet, he could not say how much it was going to cost. But he could only get the discount if he'd bring the whole damn stock. He was aware of it, so he borrowed one of the pickups of the store he worked on.