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Dan woke up, clammy. He had a bad taste in his mouth and for a short while he couldn’t quite tell where he was or what day it was, which almost led him to jump up in case he was missing practice or a class.
It was getting worse lately. He couldn’t tell what his limit was anymore. He almost felt bad for just laying there, but apathy was so much easier than feeling the guilt he knew was bound to hit him as he further gained consciousness.
He gently shook his aching head, bringing his hand to rub his eyes. He was home, sunlight streaming in through the gap in the curtains. As he came to, the sounds of outside life came to his attention, as well as the warm, soft body of his cat curled up beside him on the bare mattress.
Apathy wasn’t Dan Dunne. He struggled to sit up, his head heavy on his shoulders as he dragged a hand over his face, now prickly with stubble. The day before was still impossible to recall, but for now he could at least go about the usual routine; feed Dave, brush teeth, shave, eat.
He yawned and stretched as he got up, his ear popping. He realized the TV was still on and turned up the sound. The background noise was good. Early morning news, also good. He glanced at the clock- 8:34am. He was surprised to be up so early after the black hole that was his clearly wild day before.
He chittered to his cat in a low voice, admiring his patience for not waking Dan up, as he chowed down on his wet food.
Dan dragged himself into the bathroom, looking at his disheveled reflection.
While he was currently incapable of feeling something as strong as disdain, he felt something similar arise in his chest. Glancing away he tried to push it down as he got washed up and avoided looking his reflection in the eye again.
It was a Saturday, which explained the missing pieces of yesterday. He flicked through channels mindlessly, chewing on a piece of toast to settle his stomach before giving up and lighting a cigarette.
He tipped his head back. Today he might as well shower and get dressed. He knew all too well what the weekend meant for him, yet today he no longer felt even the slightest tingle of the anticipation that usually got him through the week.
He continued to smoke, sitting up to look at the TV. Some wellness ad, he scoffed, reaching for the TV remote.
“-hydrostatic pressure. That’s the pressure that flowing water places all over the body.”
Dan stopped for a moment, sitting back against the couch and watching. Something about this had piqued his interest.
“As it flows past you, it sends messages of calmness and safety. One of nature's most overlooked biological allies. So what are you waiting for? Join-“
He clicked off the TV, leaning up to put out his cigarette and laying down flat on the couch.
He thought about the stream in the advert, while it was only a ploy to get him to sign up for some sort of scheme, still he was suddenly hit with a wave of nostalgia. He thought about when he was a kid under dappled sunlight, splashing in the creek with the neighbor kids as they waited for their parents to prepare lunch.
His corner of New York was hardly known for its clear, babbling brooks. He thought about the route he sometimes ran, about that part of the river usually littered with needles, trash floating by, along with the odor of piss. The whole city vaguely smelled of piss, he thought, turning over and pressing his face into the couch.
Before he knew it, sleep had taken him again, this time bringing faded memories and blurry dreams of the sparkle as sunlight hit the water, of arms around him, a girl whispering in his ear, the shock of jumping into cold, crystal depths.
He woke up with a start, wiping a small amount of drool from his mouth. 11:03. He pulled on whatever clothes he could find, grabbed some trunks, threw on his sneakers. He knew where he was going and he’d be damned if anyone tried to stop him.
He drove, getting gas and some snacks from a gas station while leaving the city, following the signs for Kingston, driving alongside the Hudson as he got closer to Albany. The two hours flew by as he got off the main road, pulling into a quieter area before ditching his shitbox of a car and gathering his duffel bag from the front seat.
He stood at the top of the parking lot as he watched families with their kids and dogs ambling down the trail. He hesitated, glancing back over his shoulder to his car, to the way out.
Despite the mental discomfort, he pushed on through, hurrying past one clearing after another of couples feeding the ducks. Was this a mistake? Probably. It was stupid to come here alone. He kept walking, the visitors becoming less and less abundant the further he went.
Slowly, he stopped feeling so antsy, so jittery. School was almost out, late June, and it had been so hot so early in the city this year.
But here the air was cool, the smell of leaves and the sound of the creek just off to his right made him feel like he’d slipped into another world.
When he got to an opening where the water was calmer, he set down his belongings, shedding the second skin that was his sweats and his sneakers.
He stepped into the shallow water, almost shivering. He couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face as he waded in, clenching his teeth as the cold water gave him goosebumps.
For a minute, as he got to the center of the creek, water flowing around him but not enough to knock him over at about shoulder depth, he felt relief.
———
He wasn't quite sure how long he had stayed there, but as he floated around in the shallows, the repetition, the ebb and flow, was comforting to him. He smiled, almost seeing the irony, then sitting up.
Someone, or multiple someones, were smoking weed upstream.
That wasn’t any of his business and he waded out to dry off, sitting in the only patch of sun. It must have been about 5pm.
He reached for his gas station meal, pulling the wrapper off his prepackaged food, cigarette between his lips. Some curious ducks swam their way over and he smiled, tossing them a few crumbs as he dripped dry.
Now, somewhere downstream, he could hear kids playing in the water. They shrieked, laughing and splashing.
He lay back against his bag, choosing not to light his cigarette, seeing how dry the forest around him appeared to be, choosing instead to stare up at the canopy above him as it swayed in synchronization with a wind that blew too far above him for him to feel.
The exhaustion in his limbs and the feeling of a crappy sandwich in his gut felt like the summer of a long time ago. He turned his head, watching the ducks while some stray leaves and sticks floated down beside him, the smell of pot in the air faint, but just enough to make him smile.
———
It almost pained him to leave. You can come back whenever, he thought to himself. The creek's hardly gonna grow legs and walk away.
That being said, it was over 2 hours away. Gas ain’t cheap and he sure isn’t made of money. And besides, there are plenty of rivers to look at, and if it came to it, Long Island is right there by train.
He sighed, putting his headphones in for the walk back, keeping his head down as he passed any stragglers.
He threw his stuff in the backseat as he sat in the parking lot, looking across at the faint glimpse of water through the trees in the dying light.
Maybe there was something to that hydrostatic whatever. Maybe there wasn’t. Either way, that familiar ache in his chest that cigarettes just couldn’t satisfy had returned, meaning tonight he’d have places to be and people to see. He put his key in the ignition, thinking about the creek, the minnows, the faraway laughter. Then he dug through his glove box for a CD, pressed play, and pulled out of the parking lot.