By Nous

                       October 31, 2003

I went to sleep at about two in the morning watching Ravenous which
was airing on the Sci Fi channel.  I woke up at four AM, turned off
the television, turned off my computer and went to bed.  I awoke at
eleven that same morning.  Things moved quickly from eleven onwards
as I got haircut and watched soap operas, some weird show about the
movies that America's presidents have watched and enjoyed, and 'The
Best Of', a show on the Food Network.
I don't know if it is because it's Halloween or what but every show
had a mysterious energy to it - even those that were not having the
essential Halloween specials.
Halloween specials rock.
Halloween rocks.
I feel as if I'm a vampire; my source of life is television and the
energy it creates and emits.
Soap opera Halloween specials are great.  I don't care what you say
about them.
And then a postcard arrived at my house addressed to me.  This was,
of course, in my mind, something greatly mysterious, because I had,
again, been watching Halloween specials and my sense of mystery and
intrigue had been much heightened since eleven.
"How odd..." I murmured to my mother as she nosily tried to peek at
the name on the postcard.  I pulled away and read the name out loud
to appease her.
"Aaron," I read.
The postcard said only, "Call me" and gave a phone number.
I stored it away in my pocket wondering what in the world was going
on.  I never get mail; there are periods in my life when I know for
a fact that no one will call me or talk to me or anything involving
being social.  But here it was, a spot on the oh-so-perfect pattern
of my life.  A stain where there should have been none.  It was the
stranger in the photograph.
I knew I should not have been thrilled, lest I be disappointed, but
I couldn't help myself and was even a bit nervous.  What could this
be?  Who could be wanting to talk to me?  And who was Aaron?
I wracked my brain trying to remember if maybe Aarone was someone I
knew in school or even someone from the church I visit from time to
time.  Better yet, what if this Aaron WAS a stranger?  How could he
know who I was?  I envisioned an encounter with this Aaron sometime
tonight when the mystery would be shattered and all would be shown,
revealed to me.
How exciting.
It was all so dramatic and stupid, but one of my disposition and of
my current state in life could do little else but be dramatic.  One
could only be dramatic, it seemed.  Yes, one only could.  One, one.
One.
But I tried to forget about the postcard, now safely tucked away in
my pants pocket.  I hovered about the kitchen waiting for my mother
to take me to Wal-Mart as she had promised.  We needed green beans,
my favourite, so that I could prepare myself a little meal.
No chicken today, I had said.  I was stuffed from eating this donut
or something for breakfast.  Of course I eventually did eat chicken
but that's another story for another day.
Finally, we got in the truck and drove to Wal-Mart.  I was still in
thought, pondering the name 'Aaron', and what it could all mean.  I
was in a storybook, in my head.
To make a long story short, we bought green beans and some avocados
but forgot to buy onions.  Luckily, there was half an onion in the,
as I called it, 'fridge.'  Ah, the 'fridge.'  I cut the green beans
and garlic nicely, but fucked up the onions.  I hate cutting things
that are round.
As I cut, I debated with myself whether or not I should call Aaron,
but was diverted from my thoughts when I heard my brother and Jake,
a friend of ours that we know from church, which I no longer attend
except special occasions.  They were in my brother's room.  I heard
them leave the room and go out the front door.
Alone, I was; I decided to pick up the phone and make the call that
would change my life...
But it didn't change my life.
Having marked the number on the card, I waiting for the person that
might have been Aaron to answer.  Instead, a woman's voice answered
and happily droned something about a learning center.
Fuck.
A learning center?  What the shit was this?
So I was faced with two choices:  ask for Aaron, or hang up.  There
was a third option which I categorized under the second option.
I could always say, "Wrong number."  But what did I do, you ask?
"Um, someone told me to call here."
"Do you know their name?"
"Aaron."
"One moment."
Two rings and a voice piped in.
"Hello?"
I felt fucked, but said, "I was asked to call this number - "
"Ah, you must be..."
There was a pause, during which he somehow managed to discover what
my name was, which baffled me.  Was this Aaron?  I guessed so.
We spoke of my education and a wonderful campus near where I lived,
which would give me the necessary skills to acquire a good job that
would satisfy me completely.
He let me go, shortly, because he could tell it was something that,
for me, was bullshit.  I didn't care.  I should have, I'm sure, but
I didn't really.  Still, I saved the little card with his number in
case I ever felt pressured to do something with my life, as will be
the case very soon.
So the mystery was shattered, the suspense was broken, the energy I
felt was gone.  What would I do?
Well, I ate my chicken and green beans and wrote this shit down.
I don't know what else will prove to me in the future that this all
did indeed happen.