Afloat

         The warm water ran over his body and down his back. Soothing, it calmed him, the warmth coalescing under his skin. His mind drifted over his day to come, the homework he had to finish, the girl he passed by everyday without a word, the mystery of life's pleasures coming and going and beautifully flowing just like every drop of water being sprayed onto his body. Wait, what? ...Why such weird thoughts? He shook his head and lathered some shampoo in his hands before scrubbing his hair with it, massaging his scalp. That girl... there was something about her that made him smile, even now. Her brown hair always seems so soft... He wondered how it would feel to twine his hands into it, stroke it...

         He finished rinsing his hair, shutting his eyes and mouth as the white lather skimmed his face. He needed to talk to her. Today. He turned to pick up a bar of soap, stepping away from the water. What would he say? “Hi, I like your hair?” He smirked as he rubbed the soap in his hands. Corniest line ever. He might as well just use one of those lame Internet pick-up lines, like “Hi there. If looks could kill, you'd be FBI's most wanted homicidal murderer.” How romantic. He began rubbing the lather over his body, and smiled as he thought of another thing to say right after: “And I'm the top agent. You're under arrest.” Ha....But wait, that doesn't make sense...Oh, whatever. It's too early in the morning for rational thought anyways.

         He dropped the soap but didn't notice as he continued rubbing his body, thinking of what else he could say to break the ice with her. Maybe he could borrow a pen or something before class, and just start talking to her as he returns it to her afterwards. He practiced out loud in the shower, sprouting a huge smile and sporting a friendly voice: “Hey, thanks. My name's Midas. What's yours?” Moving forward to rinse himself, he stepped onto the wet soap. Caught by surprise, Midas lost his balance and slipped. He struck his head on the knob over the tap so hard that blood gushed from the wound. As his mind receded, the pain overwhelming to the point that he didn't notice it anymore, Midas again wondered about the feel of warmth seeping through his skin from the constant pitter-patter of water onto his body, as well as the soft moist soap now against his back, the wetness of his hair matted with warm blood against his head, the slightly bumpy-yet-smooth texture of the cool bathtub floor on his flattened cheek. It all felt so real.



         Floating... He was completely weightless, his entire body numb and still. There was no pain, nor pleasure, no warmth, nor coldness. Disembodied, his mind raced through countless recollections and random scenes. A Boy Scout kayaking trip where he almost drowned. The  monster in his closet tickling him when he wasn't looking. His biology class laughing as he accidentally sat on a preserved frog. His imaginary first kiss with that brown-haired girl he smiled at like a goofball everyday. All these entangled thoughts wove and melted together in a state of weak, disconnected  awareness, and eventually he became aware of a dim repetitive beep in the background, approaching from far away.  His eyelids rose, revealing bright fluorescent light. A hand appeared, blocking the light, and, after a second of blinking in confusion, he realized that the hand was his own.  Wait a second... he was still floating, although apparently without moving. His body was reclined, his head elevated slightly. Is this a bed? He moved his face to the right until his eye was obscured and he became aware of some sort of resistance against the motion of his neck, as well as the sound of skin rubbing against a sheet. Is that a pillow? How could he be lying in a bed and still be floating like this? Then he smirked as he realized what must be going on. Weirdest dream ever.

         Midas decided to try sitting up, although he wasn't sure how to go about it. Tentatively he moved his arms behind his back, into emptiness, and pushed, feeling stupid because he was pushing into nothing. But then he raised his torso somehow, moved his butt slightly back, and all of a sudden he was sitting up. His arms were extended behind him in an awkward position holding him up, even though it felt like he was still just floating, his arms reaching out into nothing but air. So strange. He looked around, first seeing a blue-green curtain to the right, a bedside tray against the wall to his left that had some old gross-looking food in it, and his body laying on the bed before him. Apparently he was covered by a blanket. Why would I dream about being in a hospital? Looking up, he saw a woman slumped on a chair before his bed, her head askew, her eyelids shut. Oh, it's Mom! 

         A murmur escaped his lips. “ 'ey, Ma.” Did I say that? He knew he said it, but he couldn't feel his tongue inside his mouth, or his lips for that matter. What's going on? His mother didn't stir, but he didn't want to wake her anyways; he wanted to explore this weird dream he was having. Was this one of  those lucid dreams? Maybe I can control this... If I can float, I can fly, right? But how? Midas looked back up to the fluorescent light and then to his motionless body.  He concentrated. Fly. He was still hovering in some kind of abyss. He needed to take control, take off. Fly. Why won't it work? He had a curious feeling in his stomach from this perpetual floating sensation. Something needs to happen... Maybe I should say it. “Fly.” 

         His hoarse voice rang louder than he expected, and he looked up again to see his mother awakening. He watched as his mother stirred and opened her emerald eyes, fixating them on his. They widened, and Midas could see they were red and puffy from crying. Why had she been crying? Wait, could this be real? She stood up, and more tears began streaming from her eyes as she rushed over to him, sighing, “Oh, Midas, you're okay!”

         She wrapped her arms around his torso, snuggled her cheek against his. But he couldn't feel her.  “Mom... why aren’t you touching me?”

         “I am, kiddo,” she replied. His eyes darted to his left and he saw his mom's cheek pressed against his, but he felt the same as before, just floating on a nonexistent surface, supernatant. 

         “I can't feel you Mom... A-are you really here? This is just a dream, right?”  Her sobs split his ears, but he couldn't feel the warmth of her breath against his neck. His eyes began tearing, he didn't notice until they became blurry, but even then for a split second he became hopeful that maybe the scene was dissolving away so he could wake up and wonder about how stupid that dream was last night. But his eyes cleared after an involuntary blink, and he was sure there was a lump in his throat, but he couldn't tell. He closed his eyes, which was scary because now he was truly floating into nothing, and he waited to wake up again, to open his eyes to his alarm clock blasting that annoying-ass radio, but instead his concentration was broken by another sob from his mother. Nothing changed.

         “Oh, honey, this is real, you finally woke up. T-the doctors said that you...  that you have a condition...” What? No. Wake up... wake UP.... WAKE UP! END SCENE! But the scene didn't change, everything was still crystal clear, and her pungent aroma permeated his nostrils, that perfume she always wore too much of. Frantically he wondered if she was a hallucination. But she couldn't be, he knew it was her, so why can't I just FEEL her, how could this be, am I dead, am I a ghost, but I don't know because she can touch me but no she's not touching me I can't feel her she's not here I'm not real what the fuck is going ON!

           He couldn't sense the air rush down his lungs as he inhaled deeply, shakingly, before crying out in an inhuman shriek:          

“MOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!”

         He wrapped his arms around her in a futile embrace, still crying out, trying to feel her presence, but all he could feel was his muscles struggling and straining to contract. So he held onto this resistance, squeezing ever harder, hoping, thinking, knowing that if he held her close enough, then he could feel her body against his, and he would know that she was real, that he was real. He didn't notice when her sobs became gasps for air. Or when her back made a sudden snapping sound. And he didn't notice when guards and nurses and doctors rushed in to inject him with a shot, pry his arms open, rip her away. His mind was too busy racing with memories of his mother's touch. The feel of her caressing his hair and his cheeks, the gentle pain as she blew on a boo-boo to make it better, and the inexplicable exhilaration of being tickled on a warm summer day all surged through his mind as he drifted to someplace else. These sensations blended together, but through it all he was still floating, connected to nothing, and all he wanted was to run his fingers through that girl's silky brown hair.

         

         Shhhh. The sound of rain pouring over his body and the floor dominated his senses, and slowly he opened his eyes to realize that he was still lying on the bathtub floor, the shower running nonchalantly. How long was I out? Grimacing, he slowly got up and became aware of a bump on his head. He rubbed it a little as he turned the water off and stepped out of the shower in a daze. What a klutz, stepping on the soap. I must have blacked out or something. Whatever. After drying his hair, being careful with the tender bump, Midas stepped into his bedroom adjoined to the bathroom and glanced at his alarm clock as he picked up the clothes for the day. He started dressing, but then realized he didn't really register the time (so out of it today, geez) so he looked again at the alarm clock and realized that it was 7:54 A. M. Holy shit! Class starts in like 5 minutes! Midas quickly pulled on his shirt and rushed to the bathroom, waddling and tripping in his pants, to grab some mouthwash. As he struggled with the sting, his eyes tearing, he wondered if he could get a quick ride to school with Mom. But no, wait, what am I thinking? Mom's been dead for a few years now. I have a car. I can drive to school. Finally spitting out the mouthwash, Midas frantically rushed through his room to grab his backpack and stumbled over a stray book lying on the ground. What a great day this is gonna turn out to be. Frowning, Midas wrenched open his bedroom door.

         He sneaked into the classroom as quietly as he could. The door, however, closed shut with a loud WHAM, causing everyone to look up and stare and Ms. Hitchins to stop lecturing midsentence. Midas grinned sheepishly and scuffled to the back of the classroom. She gave him a look saying “I'll deal with you later” and resumed her lecture, so everyone put their heads down again to take notes and naps. Flustered, his heart beating fast from the embarrassment, Midas settled down into his seat and tried to become invisible.

         “Quite a smooth entrance there.” Midas looked over to see who was talking to him and almost gasped while his racing heart skipped a beat. Sitting right next to him, smirking at him with the cutest expression on her face, was the girl. Her. Brown hair, green eyes, full lips, gorgeous. Staring at her in astonishment, he struggled to find something to say. Something clever. That's just how I ro-

         “I'm Hayley. Just transferred to this class; the other one was too easy. This one is boring too, though.”

         Wow, she must be smart. Oh, I should just say that. “Wow, you must be smart.” His voice rang out louder than he had meant, and everyone turned around to give him a glare as Hitchins again paused midlecture to do the same. “Midas,” she said, “Have you no respect? Keep disrupting class and just watch what happens. In fact, I'm gonna need to see you right after.” He sank lower into his chair, his face getting redder, thinking again about how wonderfully terrible this day was starting out to be. Now Hayley would probably never speak to him again. Awesome.

         “Wow, you really are star of the show today, aren't you?”

         This time Midas spoke in a hushed whisper. “Why are you talking to me?”

         “I told you, I'm bored. And don't tell me you're riveted by statistical significance tests. “ She yawned, but managed to do it gracefully, and Midas couldn't help but admire her pearly whites. “Boooring.”

         “Statistics?” He smirked, locking his gaze on her. “That's not what I'm riveted by at the moment.” WHOA, how could I say that? Ahh, the shit's gonna hit the fan now... Wait, is she smiling? At me? Oh... she's so cute... Midas's heart fluttered and he felt a knot growing in his chest as he realized she was smiling at him. He smiled back, involuntarily, and remembered that he hadn't introduced himself yet. “I'm Midas.”

         “I know.”

         “Oh, well, okay, that's – very nice, then,” He managed awkwardly, blushing yet again. Dammit, you blubbering idiot. Hayley stifled a giggle and returned her attention to her notebook, in which she started doodling a stick figure shooting himself. Funny, just what I was thinking of. Suddenly the bell rang, and everyone immediately grabbed their stuff and bolted. Midas managed to lose himself in the crowd before Bitchin' Ms. Hitchins noticed him making his escape, but lost sight of Hayley in the process. Damn. Maybe I can talk with her tomorrow though. Midas walked through the crowded hallways towards his locker, fantasizing and trying to think of what he could say next time he saw her. Maybe “I think I love you”? No? Might come off a little strong... Or how about asking her to skip class with him? That would be cool... We could go to the park or something, and talk, and, I dunno, make out... Wonder what that feels like... Midas reached his locker and stood there staring at the lock. Thoughts of Hayley interfered with his attempts to remember the combination. He started fiddling with it, absentmindedly playing with the combination as he wondered how her lips would feel on his and how smooth and warm the back of her neck might feel.

         “Wow, you look like you're in love with your locker.” Midas looked up and swiveled around to see her leaning against the wall behind him. Blushing, he realized that the hallways were empty.

         “Did I miss the bell?” he asked, glancing left and right in confusion.

         “C'mon, let's ditch,” she said. “Class is overrated anyways.” Without waiting for a response, she came up and put her arms around his neck. “Heh. I hate to admit it, but you're kinda cute.”

         Midas couldn't believe this was happening. He felt a floating sensation, and smiled as he told her: “You're not too bad yourself.” He raised his arm, ready to stroke her beautiful soft-looking hair, as he leaned in, eyes closed, for his long-awaited first kiss. Finally.

          But their lips never met, and her hair seemed to dissolve before he could touch it. He was floating completely now, nothing to support him, no floor underneath his feet. Darkness enveloped him as he realized he couldn't open his eyes again. He couldn't even tell whether they were closed or not. He thought he could hear a repeating beep approaching in the background. As all sensation faded away, only one thought dominated his mind:

No