The room was sweltering hot and sticky. The window was open all the way and still the air felt choking. The sweet smell of the spring flowers coming through the window on the tiniest breeze took turns being sickly sweet and reminding me of the beautiful blindingly bright green world outside was new and refreshing itself.
The light coming through the window made the room feel translucent and shimmering. It was filled with bright greens, and pale tans, with dark shadowed corners. The roses on the bright shiny corner of my desk sat quietly and patiently and seemed to send out a wave of grounding calm to me.
I sat cross legged on the dark purple bed spread, the flat white pages of my homework staring back up at me blankly. It’s been hard to focus since the heat wave started. The heat feels stifling, as if it’s just pressing down on the world.
Of course, it could be the heat. Or it could have been that the heat started at almost the exact same time that I had decided to tell my best friends.
I was definitely waiting. I could feel the sweat on my skin in beads, but they didn’t string themselves down my back like they usually did in the intense heat that surrounded me. These beads of sweat stuck to me in viscous blobs, like glue or half melted hard candy.
My stomach flipped over every few moments, and I sat stock still. I could hear movement outside my window. There was even a fan in the corner set to blow continuously directly at my shoulder all night that whirred steadily. But everything felt still and pensive like me.
Just after my family had moved us here, one of the first times I’d hung out with my new friends, we’d found this bunch of slightly battered roses in the dumpster of this old man’s house. The place was covered in overgrown plants and flowers like an enchanted garden, but these flowers had been thrown away. We’d kept them, because the idea of imperfect beauty had delighted us.
I stare at the dried flowers, my breathing soft and barely noticeable. I’m lost in thought, still. The pressure of heat and memories weighing on me. I considered finding those flowers the bonding experience that had opened the doors for all the friendship that had grown between us all since.
And now, the heat wave stifled everything, and all I felt was saturated with heat and sweat and waiting. To see what would happen next.
Whether they would accept me again, as they had before. As they had the flowers with their imperfect beauty.
I jumped when the phone jangled and buzzed beside me. It suddenly brought all the sounds of the fan and the breeze outside and my breath back into focus in my mind.
When I answered I heard their laughter, all jammed together through the microphone, happy and normal. Inviting me over to hang out, wondering why I wasn’t there yet.
Because those plans had been made before the heat wave. Before my confession, the letting go of my secret. The timing and schedule had made everything go so quiet, I wasn’t sure if I was still supposed to go.
The smile spread across my face, and when I moved to grab my backpack and shove on my sandals, the sweat that had stuck to my back freed itself and rolled down. It felt somehow strangely freeing for it to roll down my back so briskly, leaving behind a trail of slightly cooler skin.
I shove my phone in my pocket as I hop toward the door with my half donned shoes dangling from my feet. Everything was going to be alright this time. Either way I would survive, heat wave or not, but everything would be great this time. I was accepted again, and it was great.
Though, I was never going to come out before a heat wave again.