11
I wanna go back
And do it all over
But I can't go back I know
I wanna go back
Cause I'm feeling so much older
But I can't go back I know
(Monty Byrom, Danny Chauncey, Ira Walker)
They watched the two four-wheelers drive off, the noise of their engines filling the night, headlights casting amazing moving shadows and red taillights disappearing into the trees. Kyle turned to Stan. He was wobbling on his feet and grinning like a madman. Stan thought about how much he'd missed seeing that smile. He couldn't help but smile back; everything was amusing and wondrous. The muscles around his mouth were beginning to ache.
"This stuff is really hitting me hard, Stan."
No shit. "Yeah…me too." Stan was beginning to see what was so fascinating to Clyde about the shadows on the ground. Every square inch demanded his attention, the flickering shadows between each pebble and blade of grass on the ground miraculous in their beauty, the faint sound of crickets and frogs over the fading ATV motors a complex symphony. The mountains and the thousands of stars sprawling across the pitch black overhead drew his attention next, and Stan knew he couldn't possibly take it all in. "We're all right," Stan added. "We don't have to go anywhere for hours."
They stood quietly for a moment, watching the two ATVs make their way around the lake, red taillights flickering between the pines.
"Do you think you could drive right now?" Kyle asked, his smile growing impossibly even wider.
"Dude!" Stan replied, saying the first thing that came into his head. "I don't think I could even start my car right now!"
That remark seemed to hang in the darkness for a moment. Then Kyle snorted and doubled over laughing as if it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. Stan joined him a moment later as that absurd comment sank in, kneeling on the forest ground and clutching his sides. Kyle dropped down next to him a moment later as great whoops of laughter wracked them both and left them howling and gasping for breath. It seemed to go on for a very long time but was probably no more than a minute.
"Oh shit, Kyle," Stan gasped, deliberately trying to slow his breathing as his hysterical outburst finally seemed to have run its course, though it threatened to return if he thought about what he'd just said. He watched Kyle trying to compose himself on his knees beside him. A soft halo of light, flickering orange like their campfire, was emanating from his hair.
"Oh my God, Stan. I don't know why that was so funny…it just was."
Stan sat down. Dozens of pine needles pricked his palms as he leaned back and rested his weight on his arms. "I haven't laughed that hard in years. No, scratch that; I've never laughed that hard."
"Me neither. This stuff is amazing!" Their voices seemed too loud and echoed inside Stan's head.
Stan lay down flat on his back, folding his hands together over his chest and shifting around to get comfortable; Kyle copied him and they lay quietly less than a foot apart, looking up at the sky. There were too many stars to count. Stan couldn't bring his eyes to settle on any one star no matter how hard he tried, and the effect was vaguely unnerving.
"I've never seen the stars like that," Kyle whispered, his voice seeming to fill the night. Their fire was dying down again and the shadows grew deeper. Stan briefly considered getting up to go add more firewood.
"I know. I was expecting to see white rabbits and stuff, but this…" He didn't know what to say after this to describe what he was feeling. He wasn't seeing anything that wasn't really there, but everything was too detailed and chaotic. Stan watched the trees sway overhead in a light breeze that wasn't reaching the ground. Nothing seemed still; even the stars appeared frenetic as he looked up at them. Another meteor flared and dropped behind the trees.
"Woah!" Kyle exclaimed, sitting up. Stan grinned happily, a smile that felt like it would never go away. Kyle looked down at him, flickering light in constant motion across his face. "Dude…" Kyle's voice was sincere. "This is fun! I dunno, maybe this is just the drug we're on making me say this, but." He cleared his throat and reached a hand up and ran it through his hair. Sparks flowed along his fingertips like tiny orange meteors and Stan looked away, feeling overwhelmed. "I'm sorry I've been such a dick the last few years. I, ah…I don't know Stan. It like my life didn't turn out the way I thought it would; but that's not really a good excuse. I'm just sorry."
Stan nodded and was about to reply but Kyle continued, "I used to think being a grown up would be so cool. Like, I'd be able to stay up as late as I wanted, and not have to do anything that people told me to. But it's no different now! I can't stay up as late as I want to, not if I want to keep my job, and people just tell me what to do anyway." The words rolled over Stan like a train, every one ringing loud and clear and completely true. It wasn't just the drugs making him feel this way either; at least he didn't think it was. Kyle had just managed to articulate everything that Stan felt about his own life in just a few sentences.
"Life hasn't been much fun for me lately either." Stan sat up and they were silent for a while, but this time it wasn't the usual awkward silence Stan had come to expect with Kyle. This was more the kind of silences they'd shared when they were kids and they were content to be quiet together. The night was alive with sounds and the flickering orange glow of their dying fire lit the world.
"Let's not wait a whole year to get together again, okay?" Stan felt his smile grow even wider at that. "Maybe we could do something this weekend or something."
"I'd love to, Kyle!" Stan wrapped his arms around his knees and rested his chin on them, content to listen to Kyle as he spoke, hanging on each word as though his life depended on them.
"Do you ever wish you could go back…and, you know, do it all again, and this time pay more attention to how great just being a kid is?" Stan looked at him and nodded vigorously. "I mean, our childhoods weren't exactly what you'd call normal…but I'd give anything to be ten years old again. And even if my mom was yelling at me for something stupid" (Stan winced; he didn't think Kyle saw it though) "I'd just stand there and smile and say 'yeah, okay ma' and take the grounding or whatever she gave me with a smile. Because I'd still be a kid tomorrow. Does that make any sense?"
Kyle finally fell silent, waiting for a reply. Stan was tripping hard, his thoughts and everything around him a chaotic mess, but this conversation felt like the most important thing he'd ever done and he knew he had to answer carefully. Fucking it up was out of the question.
"Yes I do!" That was a good start. Stan was delighted to be having a real conversation with Kyle. It felt like the first time in years since they'd had one. "I feel that way a lot! Like…" He trailed off as a memory from a few years back stirred in him, something he hadn't thought of in a very long time. It had seemed extremely important to him then, and he wondered if sharing it with Kyle was a good idea, or if it would just seem silly and give them an excuse for another prolonged fit of laughter. At one time he could have talked to Kyle about absolutely anything. Tonight might be the last chance he ever had to do it again.
"Nickel for your thoughts, Stan." Stan looked at him curiously. "Oh…you just seemed like you were thinking of something pretty serious; maybe not?"
Stan nodded. "No…you're right, I was. I was gonna say…I miss being a kid too…and until just a few years ago, I used to think maybe I could go back and be one again." That isn't quite right, and please don't let this come out sounding stupid. "In fact, I used to think I would go back one day, because my life seemed so fucked up that I thought I had to be able to do it again. Like…the world owed me a do-over or something."
Kyle nodded, obviously taking him seriously. "Too bad no one's invented time travel yet, huh Stan?"
Stan shrugged. This was the part that was going to be hard to explain. "I kind of had that problem figured out though. I used to believe in this, ah, thing. I called it the 'membrain,' only I spelled it with a b-r-a-i-n, like the human brain, you know? And the 'm-e-m' part stood for memory, and—" How to explain this? No matter what words he used, he could never convey how important it had once been to him. "It was like this barrier I could just step through and go back, and be a kid again, and…" …everything would be wonderful again. He trailed off, waiting for Kyle to laugh.
"That's really heavy, Stan." Kyle leaned forward, wrapping his arms around his knees. Reflected firelight danced across his fingernails like tiny sparks; Stan thought if he listened hard enough he might be able to hear them.
"Sometimes it felt really close; like if I just thought about it hard enough…" Stan sighed. "Maybe it's…I don't know."
"Not so far away after all?" Kyle suggested, looking at him. Stan cocked his head; Kyle's face was all flickering light and shadows, too much for Stan to take in. He lay down again, staring up at the night sky.
"Wow…this is really intense Kyle." He finally could focus his eyes on one star without the uncountable distractions all around drawing his attention away. "I don't just mean this conversation either, but. Yeah. That too."
Kyle lay down next to him. "You okay dude?"
"Yeah." Stan nodded even though Kyle couldn't see it. "I think in a little while I want to go sit by the fire; but for now, I just want to lay here."
They stared up at the sky quietly, and Stan realized he could no longer judge the passage of time. They could have been laying there for ten minutes or an hour, and it would have made no difference. Stan vaguely remembered Kyle smoking at least one cigarette.
Something strange and unexpected began to happen: A single ray of white light reached up from behind the horizon and flickered toward the zenith. It was quickly joined by several more, like a pure white aurora. A shimmering glow that seemed to emanate from behind the sky grew rapidly brighter, washing out the glow of the fire and lighting the world in brilliant white. Stan felt his heart pounding as he realized that it cast no shadows. Even stranger was that Kyle seemed completely unaware of it.
Stan whirled around and half-knelt to look behind him, almost losing his balance. The sky, the trees, everything was glowing with an unearthly light that came from both nowhere and everywhere. "Kyle…you don't see that, do you?" The horizon was the brilliance and color of burning magnesium; it looked like the end of the world.
"See what Stan?" His voice came very far away.
Stan could feel the light beckoning him to go toward it. He was afraid for a moment, then suddenly hopeful as he realized what it could be. Of course…he just needed his mind opened up to the possibility! He carefully stood up and began walking toward the light and away from Kyle.
"Hey, Stan…are you all right?" Stan barely heard him, and he began walking faster, away from their campsite and toward the light. It had a definite boundary now, and it was close but slowly receded as he stumbled toward it. He was distantly aware of Kyle standing up behind him.
"Stan?" He ignored him, walking faster and slowly closing in on the edge of that impossibly white light.
"Stan…where are you going?" Kyle voice was a mere echo, whispering through the trees as the earth and sky turned to white fire that had no heat. Stan knew where he was going; it was right there in front of him, and all he had to do was catch up to it and step through.
The membrain. He was going to the membrain.
He walked up to it and stopped; it was right there, no longer moving away from him. It was real, as real as the trees and sky and Kyle, a rippling wall of light (that cast no shadows) and all he had to do was walk into it.
"It's okay, Kyle," Stan whispered, knowing that Kyle didn't hear him and wouldn't have known what he meant by 'okay' anyway. He stumbled the last few steps into the light and the joy that he knew lay beyond it. His legs tangled up beneath him, the sky and trees and lake tipped over as the ground rushed up to meet him and he fell