Making Life Worth While

by Christopher Archuleta

CHAPTER SEVEN

  Crashing waves, cheering people, disapproving jeers, nagging gulls, speed boat engines, bouncing sports balls, giggling children, propellers of airplanes, whooshing of wind, and yelping teens were the sounds that entered my ear for a very lengthy minute. There was absolutely no dialogue between me and Julio. Both of us were probably feeling the same thing while Andy and the rest of the volleyball participants felt ignorant. Sundown was only a few hours away and the sky was now flawed with the occasional cirrus. Humming by was a speed boat with a shiny red pearlescent coating of paint on the top and a dull grey gel coat on the bottom. I couldn’t help but smirk for I found an old friend and there was no more restraint. It was only relief and happiness from the penetrating smile. Only one full day in the big city and I found someone. It was overwhelming.

  “Oh my goodness, it’s good to see you man!” I said as I busted open with an ugly smile.

  “Who the heck is this guy?” Andy asked.

  “Remember the story I told you about my 8th grade championship game?” Julio questioned.

  “Yeah.”

  “He was the one that passed me the buzzer-beater. I remember, it was all sweaty and stuff,” he said while physically enacting what he did during the game. “We already won, but we were waiting for the clock. The other team quit and we were extremely happy. Yes, I was doing awesome and everything and so was everybody else. There were only 8.5 seconds left on the clock.-”

  “6.5,” I corrected.

  “Huh?” he considered my input and then resumed, “Oh, right. 6.5. Anyway, this kid,” he pointed at me, “was on fire and he stops and looks around like the game was over. And I was waving my hands, and this kid whips the ball at me and I had two guys on me so I did a fadeaway on them. It went right in and then there was barely any time left. The next you know, this sweaty kid from Burnham takes the basketball and flings it across the court. I still don’t know if he was trying to score and had no technique or if he just got mad and threw the ball because the last thing I remember before the buzzer was a Lumpert cheerleader on the sideline turning around and catching the ball as if it was the weakest throw in history. I heard that buzzer and, as tired as we were, we all agreed before the game to jump our highest vertical while screaming our loudest at the game’s end. Then one side of the court cheered while the losers booed. I was like, ‘Yes! Yes! We did it!’ and then we had a big party at Steven’s until 4 AM.”

  The screaming Julio reenacted caused a few people to turn our way, but our reminiscing was far more important.

  “Hey, listen,” I interrupted, “can I talk with Julio for a minute?”

  The group nodded their heads, signaling us to discuss.

  We walked silently toward a secluded location away from the kids throwing a disc near the net.

  “How have you been doing?” he asked.

  “Well, I went to Pine Grove after college on the north side. It didn’t work out there.”

  “In college?”

  “No, it didn’t work in Pine Grove. How’s your life been?”

  “Oh, me? I, uh, went to the North Side for high school. Our school took home the trophy in my senior year. It was a fantastic season and we were bonded together so closely that I didn’t want to leave them. I made MVP, which was good. That is just a little part of how great the season ended up being. I went to the East Coast University here and played for the team. We beat all of our opponents during the season. The playoffs were a snap until our Point Guard and Small Forward got in a fight with the Center from a school in Piket Province. Then a majority of our subs got in a fight with the rest of the opposing team. No winner could be declared after that, and all of the participants in the game were considered unreliable in the field of sportsmanship even though replays clearly show that a few of us, like me, were trying to break it up. None of the idiots from the big leagues has offered a contract even though I own some of the best statistics of the time, but, you know.”

  “Are doing any other sports?”

  “Now, if I can’t make basketball, then I can’t make anything.”

  “Well, you didn’t make basketball only because you were cheated out.”

  Julio sighed, “Now I manage a gym near my house. What do you do?”

  “I worked for Habendeck’s until recently.”

  “Oh, that’s nice.”

  “Yes, but now I applied for a job by my house.”

  “It has to do with carpentry, doesn’t it?’

  “I applied for multiple jobs,” I replied, “I qualify for things other than carpentry, too.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Hey,” I abruptly brought up, “have you heard from Arnold Darson?”

  “Who are talking about?” his eyebrows twitched.

  “Arnold Darson from our champion team.”

  “Oh, yeah,” he winced, “the shy man. He never said a word, but he’d never let us down either.”

  “Do you hear from him?”

  “No,” Julio told me as his face wrinkled and frowned.

  “Oh,” I said in disappointment.

  “Haven’t heard about him since junior year.”

  After eighth grade, I didn’t even hear a peep from anyone concerning Arnold, so this was major.

  “What was it?” I asked.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I mean, what did you hear about him?”

  “Oh, that he was in the Port Salmon footrace.”

  The Port Salmon footrace was always a testimony to longevity in the nation. It was 31 miles, 362 feet, and two and a half inches of torture. Three deaths have been caused by the race and people from across the country compete in the race. People were lucky if they started walking at the 30th mile. The fastest people finished a little over 2 hours and 40 minutes. All I had to do was read up on the footrace and see if there was any insight. I knew Julio didn’t know any more information so I initiated the volleyball game.

  “All right, let’s get this game started,” I said.

  Most of the rules that governed the game were still in my head at the time of the game, but the technique flowed out over the years.

  The very first play of the game bore the very first foul as I spiked on a spike. Julio and his team were precise about the rules the game went by and Julio prohibited any variations to come into effect. Although it was painstaking and monotonous, I learned a handful of techniques that most people don’t touch up on. Since I was on one team and Julio was on the other, the game was quite even. It seemed like there was a gradual increase in points between the both of us as the game sped up. Both my team and Julio’s team won a round, so the final round was intense.

  I kept trying to get my fellow teammates to get excited for a win. I argued that the odds were in our favor. In the first four rounds, Julio lost a substantial amount of stamina. The same thing happened to Andy, for both of them were probably betting on a quick three-game win and so didn’t reserve energy for an always possible fourth or fifth game. I didn’t use any energy in the first two rounds, and I remembered more skills throughout the rounds. Thus, I improved while everybody else took a nose dive. Finally, I turned all of those into factors of the game’s outcome.

  Julio’s argument was that one needs weeks of training just to become a small factor against professionals. Once the fifth round commenced, I believed him. A failing diving effort followed by a spike which I redirected out of bounds made me think what Julio said was true. It was looking hopeless, and Julio’s swagger around Andy didn’t make it any better. Luckily, our team captain, Luis, showed some confidence by making a few promising plays. Both times he served, we got a point. In the last two minutes of play, the score was 13-12 with us on the top. As Luis was about to serve, I thought that we had the game in the bag.

  “Alright, don’t be phased,” shouted Andy.

  Luis slapped the volleyball quicker than I’d ever seen in my life. ‘So much for Andy’s statement’ I thought as he dodged the serve right before the ball landed at the feet of hi
s father, who frowned at him. Luis had the privilege to serve again after the ace. Flying quicker than before, Andy ducked for cover as the ball went in Julio’s direction. He prepped himself in the matter of a half second and he bumped the ball quicker than the serve back in our direction. It was almost horizontal and it barely passed over the net. The kid in front of me jumped but couldn’t reach the ball, so I knew it was my time to shine. Bumping it harder than Julio, I felt good. That was, until I saw that it was 70 degrees as compared to the ground and it flew over the opposing team and their back line. Waiting at the landing spot was a conveniently erected sand castle obscuring the ocean. It was smashed and it had enough momentum to bounce back up and land in the ocean where it was taken away by a drifting wave. From there, a guy diving in the water kicked the ball out of his way, making the ball even farther away from us. At that, every single one of us were after the ball.

  Jogging past the crushed sand castle, Julio ran into the water to grab the ball. Meanwhile, I went and apologized to the weeping kids that built the sand castle with their bare hands. After helping the kids rebuild the sand fortress, the game was called off.

  “What now?” asked Andy.

  “You can bury me in the sand,” I said looking at a lady blanketed in sand.

  Gathering buckets of sand, Andy and Julio started at my feet and they made sure there wasn’t a part of my body that was exposed. It took them a couple minutes, but they made their way to my face. There, I was covered except for my nose. Heat from the Sun put me in a trance until I fell asleep. Luis woke me up by applying a big bucket of saltwater to my face. I started gasping for breath as I looked around. Seeing a blurry version of laughing teens, I rubbed my eyes and looked around.

  Clouds were starting to gather as the Sun retreated behind the city. When I woke up, I realized the beach was a lot emptier. Only a few surfers remained in the area and a majority of the people on the beach were rallying themselves to leave. The reason for the lack of people staying for the twilight hours was probably the fact that most people had work the following morning. I got up and brushed myself off, still unaware of how long I was asleep.

  “Where’s Julio?”

  The teenagers looked confused as they looked around for him. One of them had a realization.

  “Oh,” he realized, “someone came by and asked to speak him. So, he went by the parking lot and he’s answering a few questions right now.”

  Julio approached us from inland with a blank expression on his face.

  “What happened?” I asked in a concerned manner.

  “Nothing happened at all.”

  “Oh, ok. Well, nice to see you Julio, we should meet each other more often and keep in touch.”

  “Yeah, I live by the South Side, so drop by. I’m on Gull and Round. It’s by Norfolk and Oldman.”

  “Alright, bye,” I said as I waved goodbye and headed for the landlord who was still there and was packing up his things.

  I was lucky that he was still there because he probably would’ve been at unease if I didn’t come back. He would’ve left without hesitation.

  “What’d you do?” he asked me.

  “Found an old friend from school.”

  “Wow! What are the odds, you know?”

  “It’s an anomaly in math. It’s perfection in a movie or story.”

  “Well,” he chuckled, “you know exactly what I did.”

  Slowly, we paced across the messy beach with its neglected sand and filthy litter pockets. Garbage ebbed in and out with the waves and there were dozens of community service people picking up. We got to the parking lot, which was almost empty by the time we got there. By the time we got to the car, I saw that the lifeguards were scarce. The parking lot had a few exits that led to the same street. When the landlord and I pulled up to the junction of an exit and the street, we yielded for a few cars. Travelling southbound, the direction opposite of which we were about to go, was a green coupe car. Driving the car was what looked like Betty Clements, but the shade from a high rise apartment combined with the lack of light from broken lampposts caused the second long apparition to look like a smeared picture of Clements that fused with the crystal clear background that was the apartment and a parking meter. My brain subconsciously opened my mouth without my conscience’s consent. I looked back for the car in a desperate manner. I didn’t recall seeing the car before, but that didn’t stop me from wondering who the person was. The long, wavy black hair, shades, pale skin, and a frowning lip that did no justice for the body language given by her eyes looked just like her. It was extremely creepy, for she never came to Port Salmon. In fact, the morning before the incident when she guided me to Port Salmon was the very first time she had ever been east of Bodsen, which was very far from Port Salmon. Any fatigue I had from the drawn out day was then overridden by surprise. I almost rested my head on the landlord’s shoulder as I stretched my neck to get a better look at the receding car.

  “What was that all about?” the landlord marveled.

  “Hey, can you follow that car?”

  “Alright,” he said in a harsh tone, “but only for a little bit.”

  “Thank you so much,” I said while showing how desperate I was, “I think I know that lady.”

  Carefully, he performed the U-turn and went south behind the speeding car. Looking at the 15 MPH sign to my right, I knew she was driving way over the speed limit. An everlasting line of high school attendees crossed the road directly in front of us. After three full minutes of an unbroken line walking in front of us, it ceased. By then, it was far too late.

  “Eh,” I quivered, “let’s forget about it.”

  “Thank you,” he said impatiently as he executed an imperfect U-turn back north.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about Betty, or whoever the lady was. She looked into my eyes before speeding along. It was no coincidence that there was such a similarity. It had to be her. Actually, the only thing keeping me from believing that it was her was the reaction she had when she laid eyes upon me. Also, being 70 miles from home isn’t common for her, as I deciphered before. She did not appeal to the beach whatsoever. One thing was for sure at the moment, which was that there was vital information in the near future to be uncovered.

  Heavy traffic delayed our travels back home. By the time we entered the neighborhood, the Sun was completely below the horizon. In the distance behind us, the city glowed with its various colors. After a slow and sluggish trip, we pulled up on the curb in front of the apartment.

  “Listen,” I assured him, “I’ll repay you. For now, I just want to say thank you so much for this amazing day.”

  “No problem and take it easy,” came the curt reply before I exited the vehicle and the landlord hurried on his way.

  I sighed and then I dug my fingers into my cavernous pockets for my keys. I slowly paced toward the building while doing so to keep myself from tripping on the crevasses in the walkway to the main door. I found the keychain and I held it up so I could see in the dark which key was which. There must have been a problem with the streetlights because it was the second time that I noticed their dysfunctional performance. I had the keys dangling above my head by the time I found the right key. I started to read the small logo branded on the key to confirm if the key I designated as the main door key was in fact the key to the main door. My focus changed from the keys, which were close up, to my balcony five stories up. In the window was the sergeant in a frozen position staring at me. He quickly fled out of my line of sight. I almost screamed as I dropped my keys on the sidewalk. Scrambling in my pocket, I found my phone. 9-1-1 was what I dialed without any hesitation. Something was definitely happening, and even though I knew the sergeant, I couldn’t trust him after what had happened. This proved that the person I’d seen was in fact Clements because there was probably something going on and I was the reason for it. Even though seeing the sergeant terminated my confusion about Clements, it sparked a greater confusion about why he broke into my apartment. I was so dis
combobulated that I doubted my very own vision. I thought that I might’ve been seeing things due to Sun exposure.

  “911, Port Salmon, Station 6.”

  “Yes, come to 4219 North Chesterton Street! The sergeant of the Pine Grove police force broke into my apartment! I saw him moments ago!”

  “Ok, we’ll send officers your way.”

  My keys juggled as I opened the front door. I ran up the stairs, skipping two steps with each stride. Coming to my apartment door, I turned the knob knowing it would be open. Unfortunately, I was correct and the sergeant had broken into my apartment. Nothing in the apartment was changed, but the door wasn’t locked. That immediately validated my vision of someone being in my house. The only thing left to be decided was who was in my apartment. Many thoughts raced through my head within a fraction of a second. I was once again stumped as to how something so ominous and provoking could happen to me and nobody else. Even though most crimes are committed between people that are aware of each other, this situation was special in every other way. First off, the sergeant was the person out of all people I knew in there. I would quickly accept Hollard without bewilderment simply because I would actually have expected such a thing to happen because of him. When that thought was sprouted in my brain, I made the connection that would forever decide my viewpoint on the sergeant. Since such an act would be committed by Hollard but was done by the sergeant, then Hollard and the sergeant must have been working together. I thought that the back door would have been the most suitable escape for the sergeant, so that was where I ran to. Something also told me that an experienced policeman like him would be cleverer than that. I didn’t care at the moment. Without much consciousness, I jumped down an entire floor’s height of stairs in only two strides. From the interior of the apartment building, I heard the police sirens approaching the complex. There were possibly three police vehicles drawing nearer. I slammed the back door open to see a dark alleyway with no light in either direction of its length. I stepped into the alley in hopes of spotting a fleeing person. Squinting with both of my eyes still didn’t help me make out any human shape. The sergeant got away.

  Blue and red lights shone on the trees and illuminated them with their corresponding colors. The leaves that were blue at one point became red, and the leaves that were red at one point became blue. I knew from the sight that the police had made it to the apartments and were pulled up in the front. Inside, two police officers were in front my apartment door speaking to each other.

  “Hello, officer,” I eagerly said in hopes of catching his attention.

  “Yes,” he asked, “what is it you want?”

  “The suspect isn’t here, he left.”

  “Who was the suspect again?”

  “Pine Grove’s only police sergeant.”

  “Why in the world would he be out here at night?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Where did you see him?”

  “I was outside, and when I looked up at my balcony, he was looking at me.”

  “You’re saying he got out even though you were in front of the door.”

  “No!” I said in an obviously impatient tone, “I was on the entrance walkway just outside the building looking for my keys.”

  “What were the keys for?”

  “The building itself.”

  “What did the suspect do when you saw him?”

  “Well, I-“

  “Hey, officers,” another officer alerted the two officers I was with. “I need you downstairs for a minute, OK?”

  As the two original officers headed downstairs, the newly arrived officer stayed up with me.

  He told me, “Hang on, they’ll be right back.”

  He followed the other two officers down the stairs. I remained alone next to my front door. Looking inside, I could see the lawn chair starting to rust on the balcony, as was my sense of comfort was deteriorating. I was actually frightened, mesmerized even, at how utterly impossible it was for oxidation to take place that quickly. It caught my eye to such a degree that I almost forgot how important the current situation was. I then broke free of the trance and glanced down the flight of steps at the group of officers at ground level. They were talking at such a low volume that all of their speech was inaudible to me. There was something about the nature of the conversation that still didn’t make sense, for they were huddled up in a loose circle and they all disagreed about something. The conflict was expressed by the only words I was able to decipher. Shut up. Each time the words were said, the tone got more and more provoked and agitated. It was as if they were being secretive about what the subject of their conversation was. Finally, the same two officers that were at my front door when I showed up started to come up again. As for the other ten police officers, they exited the apartment in an orderly style.

  The first cop ascending the stairs came to me.

  “We don’t have any leads, but we’re still searching.”

  “Oh,” I said in a disappointed manner without regret, “alright then.”

  “Take care and be safe, you hear?”

  My head was thumping and I was very stressed out. Grabbing the door, I walked in my apartment and slammed the door behind me. I walked over to the lawn chair in hopes of physical relief. It was far less comfortable than it was the previous night and it offered minimal censorship of pain. Blanketing clouds that were stained pink from the city lights were blocking the celestial objects from view. The air smelled polluted and trapped because of the obstinate cloud barrier. Any particles of tainted air escaped the city the night before. That night, it was a different situation as the air thickened with the unpleasant smells. The same degradation applied to the temperature that night since I was miserable without a jacket to wear.

  What ached more was the uncertainty of how this predicament came about. I was still clueless about why Clements was present at the beach. If that wasn’t enough, I then had the urge to contemplate on why the Pine Grove sergeant was in my apartment. I had absolutely no idea why those two people decided to run into me on the same day. I didn’t know why my living quarters were important enough to be broken into. I was sure about something though, and that was that the two “encounters” were connected. Why they were connected was what got me. Both the sergeant and Clements fled from me when I saw them, which made me come to the conclusion that the whole situation was negative in nature as to its formation. I was just hoping that the outcome of it wouldn’t be negative. Thinking about how lucky I got to even catch a glimpse of the sergeant made me think about the shocking possibilities. The most prominent of these hypothetical possibilities was that one of them was still watching me. I didn’t bother going inside to retreat because I was furious as well. Shocked and frightened I was by the situation. The sergeant, though, I was not. I was ready to fight him no matter what the situation was. Discombobulated, one might say; confused, another might say; paranoid, someone else. Every one of those people would’ve agreed on one word to summarize my second day in the new life. That word would’ve been bad.

  I had to find out why they came, and I had to find out as quickly as possible. I had enough of the old life relapses and I was determined to eternally end it.