A Hazy Black Ring

Friday, July 21st—5:22 p.m.

1,728 words. Approximate reading time: 8 minutes, 38 seconds.

Jeremiah skidded his bicycle to a stop in front of the neighborhood park. It was a beautiful summer evening, with the sun hanging low in the sky but still hours away from setting. The air was stagnant and slightly damp, leaving every bit of Jeremiah’s skin that was exposed covered in a film of sweat and humidity, but that wasn’t unusual for summers, and Jeremiah kind of liked it, especially when an infrequent breeze would come by; the feeling of being cooled all over at once was one of Jeremiah’s favorite things.

His gaze roamed over the park, taking in everything. There were benches with wrought-iron frames, pieces of rotten wood holding on desperately in a few spots. There was a playground filled with faded and weather-stained plastic equipment that hadn’t been used in decades. In the center of the small park stood a fountain, bone dry and filled with leaves, topped by a statue of some man whose left arm and nose had broken off years before. “Old No-Nose,” Jeremiah and his friends had always called the statue. There was a plaque on the fountain that might have elucidated the man’s real name and history, but Jeremiah had never read it. The park had been completely fenced in for as long as he could remember, so the only people that might have gotten a chance to become familiar with Old No-Nose were definitely up to no good.

A lot of people complained about life in the Burbs, but Jeremiah loved it, for exactly this reason. There was so much cool stuff to be found here. The park, his parents had told him, didn’t have a fence around it at one time. Parents in the area would take their children to play on the playground equipment, watching them from the benches and chatting with the other parents. Young couples would carve their initials into the trees with a knife, a symbol of an everlasting love that would maybe last a year or two.

People of all ages would toss pennies into the fountain, which was filled with water, wishing for all manner of things. The base of the statue would shoot out water in beautiful arcs into the pool at the bottom of the fountain, and it would all recirculate and run in that loop without stopping. Jeremiah’s parents didn’t remember the real name of Old No-Nose, so he must not have been a terribly important figure.

Every time Jeremiah rode his bike by the park, he’d stop and admire it. For Jeremiah, the park was essentially an art installation, something to be looked at but not touched. He would imagine the park full of life and people, and would wonder what life might have been like back then. His parents told him stories, but they were just that. Sometimes, he longed to be in that world.

But Jeremiah maintained a good balance between fantasy and practicality, so he would stop at the park and imagine for a while, then would continue on to the task at hand. As such, he pulled away from his imaginary world and continued along the road toward his original destination.

He pedaled along for nearly fifteen minutes, quite a trek from his parents’ house, the whole time thinking about the park. At one point, he had asked his parents why the park had a fence around it. They talked about a pandemic that had torn through the country about thirty years before. Everyone was scared and didn’t know what to do, so most people stayed at home for a time and avoided contact with those outside of their immediate families. Public gathering spots, like the park, were fenced off and closed down to avoid what was seen as “a temptation to gather.”

Eventually, they had told him, people got used to the idea of not going to the park. The kids basically forgot they had ever played there, and the parents were somewhat thankful to not have to deal with wrangling the children to get them to the playground. So no one bothered to take down the fence and re-open the park. After The Split, there wasn’t anyone that wanted to be responsible for it, so it just stayed that way and no one really cared. Jeremiah had learned about The Split in school, but that was the first time he had heard about any pandemic. Then again, he was never really excited about History, so he might have just missed it.

It was strange to Jeremiah that no one really cared about the park, but in a way, he enjoyed it, like the park was his own private thing that only mattered to him. It was nice to have something that was just his in that way, and he was hoping, as he rode along the road toward the river, that he might soon have something else that was just his.

He had been searching for months, when finally an advertisement appeared in the local circular with the words “FOR RENT” in bold at the top. He scanned the rest of the advertisement, and it looked perfect. It was close to his parents’ house, so they would be nearby if he needed them, but not so close that they would feel the need to constantly check up on him. The price was right on what he could afford with his job at the co-op, and the advertisement specifically said, “river views.”

When he told his parents, his mom cried. She kept saying that she wasn’t ready for her baby to leave. His dad was proud, though, and reminded his wife that Jeremiah was 18 now and deserved to have a place of his own. He wasn’t a baby anymore.

Jeremiah rolled his bike up to the bridge over the river, glancing around to see if he could find the right spot. There, right in the middle of the bridge, stood a man by a red sport utility vehicle. The man waved to him. Jeremiah waved back, and rode his bike to the center of the bridge, stopping next to the man.

“You Jeremiah?” the man said gruffly, and Jeremiah nodded. “You were supposed to be here five minutes ago.”

“Sorry,” Jeremiah replied. “I, uh... got caught up in something. Is this it?”

“Yep,” the man said. “She’s a beaut, huh? Decent location, too.”

Jeremiah looked out over the river. “It sure is,” he murmured, watching the sun, large and orange, hanging just over the treeline.

“Alright, I’ll give you the tour,” the man said, all business it seemed. He pulled open the rear passenger-side door of the vehicle and gestured for Jeremiah to take a look inside. Jeremiah poked his head inside and looked around. The rear seats had been folded down, and there was a plush mattress on the floor, taking up most of the rear of the vehicle.

Some shelving units had been attached to the sides and back of the inside of the car that would make a good place to store his clothes, books, and a few snacks. There wasn’t any place for perishable food, but Jeremiah had noticed a small food shop just before the bridge, and there were a few community wood-burning grills scattered around, so it wouldn’t be too much of a problem for him to just stop at the shop on his way home from work and supplement some of the free produce he’d get as a benefit of working at the co-op.

“Glove compartment locks,” the man said. “Alright place to keep your valuables.”

Jeremiah walked around to the other side of the car, where a tarp had been set up, attached to the side of the car on one end and to two posts on the other. An old Adirondack chair and a small metal side table sat underneath the tarp, just next to the rear door for easy access.

“Yeah, there’s a porch, too. Nice view of the river. You want it?”

“I think so,” Jeremiah said. He was nervous about jumping into something and feeling a little pressured, but he did really love the apartment and thought it would be perfect for him. “It looks really nice and it’s in a great spot. Why’s the rent so low?”

The man sighed, steeling himself for another lost lead. “A/C don’t work,” he said. “Or electrical.” Jeremiah pulled a face unthinkingly, and the man hurriedly added, “But look, the windows are all manual so you can still roll ‘em down! And there’s always a breeze on the river.”

As soon as the man said it, Jeremiah felt a breeze come through, cooling the sweat and humidity droplets on his skin, and he smiled. “Hell, alright,” he said, suddenly excited. “I don’t mind that. Let’s do it!”

The man grinned, relieved. “First, last, and security,” he said. “$600.”

Jeremiah pulled out his wallet and reached inside, pulling out six bills and handing them to the man. The man quickly counted the cash, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of car keys. He tossed them to Jeremiah, who caught them deftly. “Alright, she’s all yours,” he said. “You miss a payment and you’re out.” The man climbed onto his own bicycle and started to pull away. “The buttons on those keys don’t work!” he shouted as he rode off.

Alone again, Jeremiah walked his bike around to the driver’s side of his new apartment. He reached into his bike’s storage pack and pulled out a chain with a lock on it. Weaving the chain around the bike and through the handle of the front driver’s side door, he secured it in place. He took the key and locked and unlocked all of the doors several times. He climbed into the back and lay on the mattress, staring up at the ceiling with a smile, relishing in his freedom. He was finally his own man, finally an adult. He was chasing happiness, so sure of himself that he would find and catch it soon.

He climbed out of the rear driver’s side door of his apartment and settled into the Adirondack chair on his porch. It squealed a bit in protest, but was sturdy and held his weight just fine. He took in a deep breath of the river air and watched the sun slowly slip down below the horizon, painting the sky red and orange as it left the day behind, and wondered what exactly Old No-Nose would think of him now.