Bear Hugs

I Love You, But I'm Turning to My Verse and My Heart is Closing Like a Fist

Day Five: Wedding 

Book flat open on his face like cool, gutted fish, the rest of his body warm under the September sun - it was Saturday, the first day after an onslaught of storms, and the sun finally had shown herself. Everyone slowly filed outside in their holey jeans and university sweatshirts, walking in groups and avoiding puddles.

Kyle left a snoring Jarrod that morning, taking advantage of the empty hammocks by Bear Lake. He was reading all about in-house musicians of the 1700s, the people who wrote what they were told in exchange for food and board by the royalty and the wealthy.

What a life... but what if you burn out and can't write songs for a while? He thought, before drifting into a shallow sleep. People's conversations became white noise to the dream, and the lake's fountain a sporadic pounding of water meeting water. He dreamed about the laundromat, his mother, Big Bertha, the stuffed grizzly in the Oakland Center, and hazel eyes.

Those hazel eyes found Kyle as he was skateboarding along, recognizing the body stretched out with a book over his face. Kenny flipped up his skateboard and approached him.

"Hey, Broflovski," he grabbed at his ankle.

Kyle groaned, pushed the book down. "Oh, fuck. Dude... how long was I out?"

"I don't know. I just got here," Kenny shrugged. He threw the skateboard into the grass, "Move over."

"Wow, so polite," Kyle said, but he scooted over anyway.

Kenny rolled in beside him, arms narrowly at his sides, nearly tipping them over.

"Don't rock the boat, bitch," Kyle laughed.

"I'm trying! This thing is so unstable."

"You're unstable."

"We're all unstable."

"Yup."

They stared up at the sky for a moment. One cloud, Kyle noticed looked like a disfigured, angry woman, mouth upturned to scream, her body fused with a scorpion. He could relate.

"Hey, Kyle?" Kenny's voice was hushed as if here were whispering a password under a door, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Um, sure."

"Not hypothetical this time."

"Oh... yeah, of course."

"Why did you come to Oakland?"

The woman in the sky began to pull apart like cotton candy.

"I, just... You know, thought it looked like a good school for me."

"Dude, this is a research university. It's a great school but it's not really well-known for its poli-sci and music programs. You could be going to Harvard or Julliard or some shit."

"Oh, shut up. I would never be able to get into those places."

"Yeah, you would. You totally could."

"Sure."

"You gonna answer my question, Kyle?"

Kyle sighed. He tried focusing on another cloud, "Look, after you left, I had no one. I saw Stan and Cartman and those guys sometimes but I was mostly by myself. Everything was a big, giant blur until my mom got sick, and then time kind of... stopped? I guess? Then suddenly everyone felt bad for me and acted like they wanted to be my friend when I knew deep down they didn't actually care about me. I mean, I went to prom with Cartman, for fuck's sake. Cartman."