Weathered Love

DIARY III

I barely noted the streets as I passed. I bumped into person after person. Even for a weekend, it was more crowded than usual. Having just watched a post-apocalyptic movie with bare New York City streets, I wondered what it would be like without such a crowd. I could hardly fathom it, although I remembered a time when there was a pandemic all around the world that forced me to finish off one of my semesters at home.

I was only in middle school at the time, and more miffed at the prospect of not being able to spend time outside than over the very real possibility of losing so many I loved to the disease. I begged and pleaded with my parents to spend time with Ivan. We had both just gotten new bikes that Christmas and it hardly seemed fair we wouldn't get a chance to try them out. I snuck out of the house one afternoon and hid under one of the side windows at Ivan's house until I saw him sneak out as well. We took our bikes to a new trail that was completely empty.

Looking back, it was definitely selfish and reckless of us to do so. But we were so oblivious to the concept of death and abduction that all we saw was our unwarranted isolation and imprisonment. We wanted some fresh air. We dared each other to do some daring jumps and tricks that neither of us had tried before. At one point, Ivan dared me to jump off a small cliff. It couldn't have been higher than four feet. But it was higher than I'd ever jumped. Not wanting to be such a "girl" about it, I took the dare.

In the milliseconds before the jump, I was more anxious and frightened than I'd ever been in my short life. But as soon as I was in the air, those mere moments of freedom hit me harder than I could ever imagine. I was a free bird, flying through the crisp air, feeling the faint warmth of the sun on my skin... I wasn't isolated and forced to do online homework while watching my parents freak out over every cough and bead of sweat... I was the kid I always knew I was. I never realized what a privilege it was to be young, healthy, and carefree in those days. I just knew it was abnormal not to be that way.

I landed the wrong way from that jump, fell off my bike, watched it snap in half, then heard Ivan mutter, "Uh oh," under his breath a few seconds later. I got up, not even noting the limp in my left leg, and asked him what was wrong. I remember his pale face as he raised a shaky finger to my leg. I couldn't understand why he looked simultaneously horror-struck, nauseated, and worried like a kid who knows he's about to get into trouble.

I felt the slow, warm liquid run down my leg, which finally turned my attention away from Ivan's face and down to my leg, where he was pointing. I'd managed to slash my leg open, possibly from the broken bicycle piece, although I couldn't be sure. "Oh cool," I remember saying, as I examined the layers of fat, muscle, and pieces of what I now assume were either veins or nerves running through my leg that were apparent in that wide-open wound. I was so focused on the layers, it took me a few seconds to realize it was my own leg that I was examining. "How much trouble are we in?" I meekly asked Ivan, looking up.

He was trembling. He was probably in more trouble than I'd be in. I was injured, so I'd get some mercy. He, on the other hand, would probably have been grounded for life. "We have to get you some help," he finally choked out. He waved me over, and I somehow managed to limp over to him. He helped me climb onto his handlebars, and then he quickly but gently peddled me back to his house. It was lucky for us his retired uncle was staying with them at the time. His uncle used to be a doctor.

I remember the panic as we entered the door. The Hansens had noticed that Ivan was gone, and so had my parents. Ivan had helped me get in the door, then ran further inside the house to get his parents. It was mere seconds before I was scooped up and brought into the bathroom to get me patched up. It wasn't even more than a minute later before my parents were at the Hansens' house, my mother unable to watch as I was being patched up, and my father's expression as he watched was a mix of relief, anger, and pain.

To his credit, Ivan's uncle was extremely gentle. I barely felt anything. He said it was because I'd obtained nerve damage from the cut itself. I believed him, since I never regained feeling over the scar. But all I could think was how much trouble Ivan and I were in for leaving when we weren't supposed to, and me getting hurt as a result.

I wasn't allowed to get the area wet for two weeks. Sponge baths were so tiring and time-consuming. At least we were in lock-down and I had the time to do so. Ivan's parents had grounded him to the point where he could only have supervised phone conversations, and it seemed like they only allowed conversations with me.

I assume they felt guilty over the fact that his dare had caused me the injury, since we had told them the honest story of what had happened. They even offered to pay for a new bike for me. My parents refused, saying that me not getting a new bike was my punishment for leaving the house without permission and during a time when it wasn't safe to do so. Thank God, none of us got sick in that time.

When we finally got to get out of the house later that summer, I had a fresh scar that I proudly showed off, which wasn't too hard to do since it was in a more conspicuous spot. I remember how bright red Ivan turned whenever I told someone it was because he dared me to do a dangerous jump. But I always assured him it was the funnest jump I'd ever made, and my only regret from that day was that it was cut short because I had to get medical attention.

As the years went on, I learned that the reason my parents still let me hang out with Ivan was because they assumed that I had actually done the jump on my own and didn't believe that Ivan had actually dared me to make that jump. The reason Ivan's parents had let him remain friends with me was because they felt guilty that their son had nearly broken me and wanted him to have a constant reminder of what damage his recklessness could do. A week after the incident, his uncle got out of retirement to help with the increasing demand for healthcare workers.

I didn't realize it at the time, despite the constant information at our fingertips, but it was a serious disease, and our sneaking out was really reckless, especially if one of us was sick. I didn't realize how lucky I was that I didn't have to go to a hospital, where I would have surely gotten sick.

But I did realize how lucky I was to have a best friend who was just as reckless, just as fun, just as caring, and just as sweet as Ivan was.

I smiled to myself at the memory, and was jostled out of the memory by someone who bumped into me while leaving a chocolatier that I had stopped in front of. An expensive chocolatier that Ivan and I loved to visit. I let a single tear slip. A few happy memories in the form of a single, salty drop of water. I stepped inside to get a single piece of chocolate. It was as sweet and as rich as I remembered. I savored the single piece of chocolate right there in the store, not wanting a bumping body to shove me out of the reminiscent moment.

Once the last bit ofsweetness made its slow descent down the back of my throat, I smiled to myself,took a deep breath to keep the constant monsters at bay, and left the warmth ofthe heated store to go visit the love that had helped me get to that place ofhappy acceptance.