April's Question

"The best ideas are common property."
-Seneca


*


The waves creased and folded over the white sands of Tyche beach. Seagulls fluttered and squawked on abandoned beach chairs, huts, sun umbrellas. A lonely place, devoid of human contact, voice, or warmth. The typhoons made sure of that. Only a sole figure braved the odds, and stood at the edge of sand and water, peering far off into the distance; a horizon of clear water speckled with stars of light.

The figure –April- wasn’t looking out into infinity for purposes of introspection, but rather curious inspection. A sharp glimmer of light, the unnatural glassy kind, floated out in the distance. With deliberate sweeping movements, it made its way to her position.

A bottle.

Thoughts of romantic messages stuffed in cola bottles from mysterious sexy Europeans flooded her mind. When a young girl, she dreamed of being whisked off her feet by utterly romantic circumstance, taken away from this dreary life she called home. Although she certainly qualified, April laughed, knowing full well her mother would smack her upside the head for such pointless thoughts. Like she always said, “If you don’t think smart, don’t bother ‘tall and take out the trash.”

The glass bottle hit the shore with a soft thud. April twisted the cap open, and out fell a rolled up piece of paper, brown, ugly and old. She frowned. If it was a love letter, the sender had to at least be a hundred years old by now.

Her small fingers slowly unraveled the cryptic parchment, and small words of ink and old cursive revealed themselves.

"I am the sea. Ask one question, and I shall answer."

How odd, she thought.

April brought the bottle home to her family. Her little brother, Jesse, wanted to ask if the sea knew he peed in it when he couldn’t find a bathroom. Uncle Tim said that unless the sea could replace the broken radio which got destroyed by its damn high tide, he had nil interest in asking for favors. Father said that she should think carefully before asking her question, as this was a ‘once-in-a-lifetime’ kind of opportunity. After chuckling to himself, he added that she should ask which stocks he should invest in. Mother chased her out the kitchen with a ladle. It was time to take out the trash.

For days, April thought about the letter, and what she should ask the sea. Her friend, Davy Thompson, told her to ask who she’ll be married to in the future- not before giving her a casual wink. April found it much harder to concentrate in class, since all her thoughts were enveloped in the idea of attaining knowledge from a higher being, something that has been around since the beginning. What did the teachers know? This made April’s decision all the harder. Her question had to matter.

One windy Thursday, April found her question. A substitute teacher was taking over for Mr. Fitz’s English class. Instead of giving April and her classmates the normal busy work, he decided to perform an ‘experimental enrichment activity’, or so he said with his unusual lisp. He asked everyone to answer one question on a sheet of paper, to which they groaned and complied.

“Who am I? That is the question each of you shall ask yourself. Write whatever you think is best.”

April had no clue what to write. She looked at the papers around her. Some wrote their names, others their favorite sports teams. Davy Thompson wrote ‘April Sommers’ future husband’, and even announced it to the class, to which she rolled her eyes. She didn’t want to write a one word answer; she happened to like the substitute. But no matter how deep she dug within herself to find an answer, none were to be found.

“Well, April,” the substitute suggested, “what do you see yourself as?”

Easy. “A person.”

“Okay. But do you think that defines April Sommers?”

“Yes.”

The substitute shrugged. “Then there’s your answer.”

But April wasn’t satisfied. That couldn’t be all there was to it. Late that same night, she sat under her desk lamp in front of a blank sheet of paper, pencil ready in hand. She had planned to write what she knew about... well, herself. But nothing came to mind, just like before with the substitute.

She thought about what the sea would say, but decided against it. She wanted to come up with an answer herself.

Who is April Sommers, she thought. She is a girl. But what defines her? The red ponytail cascading down her back? The fair skinned face she recognized as ‘herself’? Her perpetual annoyance toward Davy Thompson’s come-ons? No. These weren’t unique to her. Others had traits of her physical appearance- hell, people tell her all the time she’s the spitting image of her mother. Her feelings toward the world weren’t unique. She was sure others hated Davy just as much as she did. Did the answer lie in her name? No… the name was nothing but conditioning of the brain for her to react to those often yelled syllables: Ap-Ril. Then what was unique to her? Was she just so average that any other red haired girl could take her place in her family?

Not a pleasant thought.




To get her mind off the question, April found herself embroiled in a school project –biology, specifically- partnered with none other than Ryan Kaplan, whom everyone recognized as the most gorgeous guy in her class, even the guys. She was to meet him at his house Friday night. Date night.

Her mother and father were high school sweethearts. Apparently on their first date, they simply knew it was meant to be. Whether it was the greased up popcorn and old cola messing with their bowels, or the broken air conditioner in the theater, they felt something close enough to nausea to be called ‘true love’. April realized she wanted this. The connection.

April was unfamiliar with the world of make-up. She messed up the lipstick a couple times, and applied the blush hard enough to be considered blotchy, but with an hour of practice and many rinses, she got the hang of it. Her reflection did not reflect the mousy little girl she once was. Someone else stared back at her.

"Who am I?"

She rang Ryan Kaplan’s bell twice –twitch finger- and waited, nervously sidestepping every few seconds. The door opened, and there he was, Blonde bangs, muscular jaw and all. She started to drool until he asked her, “Where are your books?”

Silently, she cursed everything in the world.

“I can’t believe I forgot them…”

Ryan wore a bemused smile. She felt uncomfortable. “Well, I suppose we could pick them up. Got to drive Kristen home, anyway.”

April soon discovered that Ryan had a girlfriend all along as they arrived in front of beautiful Kristen’s beautiful home, her beautiful lips on Ryan’s in loving goodbye. April felt nauseous- not the true love kind- so she looked out the window until Kristen left, almost not noticing that she was saying goodbye to her until Ryan brought it to her attention.

“Bye.” April replied as if chewing on something sour.

The door closed. Ryan watched his girl walk all the way into her house before he said, “Sorry about that. Completely forgot we were supposed to meet.”

“Oh.”

“Where do you live?”

“Southside, couple blocks down from Roland Park.”

“Do you want to sit up here?”

“No.”

Ryan shrugged and started the car. One thing April noticed during her starved depression was that Ryan drove really fast, never using his turn light to signal changing lanes. Through the rear view mirror, she saw his eyes, focused and controlled, looking at whatever necessary for him to look at, almost as if trying to block out her hostility. April sighed. Tonight wasn’t a date by any stretch of the imagination. She was acting stupid.

Ryan’s first reaction to April climbing into the front seat as he was moving full speed down the highway was to honk his horn, which started a chain of honking down the road. “Careful,” he said. She plopped in her seat, snapped on a seat belt, and looked right at Ryan Kaplan’s silhouette as it faded in and out against the neon lights of the city. They sat there in silence until April gathered enough remains of courage to talk.

“Who are you?”

A chuckle. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. Who are you?”

“Can’t really say.” Ryan glanced at her, and smiled. “What gives me the honor of being stumped by your question?”

“Don’t know. I’ve just been thinking about it for a while, and I can’t find an answer, which bugs the crap out of me. ‘Who am I?’” She scoffed. “Do you ever think about this kind of stuff?”

The car took a left turn, swiftly evading a pedestrian. “Sure. But, to tell you truthful, I don’t think your question makes much sense, no offense.”

“None taken. Why do you say that?”

Ryan squinted and scratched his head, thinking of the proper way to put together his words in a way someone other than he would understand. “Remember in Biology, when Mr. Moore told us that human DNA and monkey DNA are 98% identical? Well, all humans have the same DNA, so really, we’re all just the same copies, but different variations, labels.”

“You make it sound like we’re processed in a factory.”

“Well, it is kind of like that, with school, TV, advertisements, all that shit. But my point is,” The car made an abrupt break at a red light. He faced her. “If we’re all practically the same, the only thing that separates me from you or anybody else is the experiences we live through. Nobody can say that they almost drowned in Apollo Lake at the exact same spot, time and feeling of it all. That experience is mine alone.”

The red light flickered green, and April burst out laughing. Ryan was confused, and asked her what was up. “Nothing… it’s just, I never figured you for the whole philosophical type. It’s nice to know that you got some brains wrapped under that sexy face.”

“You think I’m sexy?”

“Everyone thinks that, Ryan. You know that.”

He probably did, the way he was smiling. But that smile slowly faded, and he glanced at April. “By the way you’re put together, I’d say you were expecting more than just Biology tonight.” April blushed. “Don’t be embarrassed. Most girls do this whenever we’re paired for a project. Hell, it’s how I met Kristen.” April rolled her eyes. “But none of the other girls sure as hell were smart as you. You get first place for that.”

“Yay.” said April, as if she were a drunken cheerleader.

The car rolled up to April’s driveway. Ryan turned off the engine and unlocked the doors. “Here we are.”

“Listen,” April started. “Do you think we could-”

“Reschedule?” He shrugged and smiled. “Sure.”

“Thanks.”

The car left. April made a hot bath and soaked for the next hour. Ryan’s words tumbled through her brain. Nothing but our experiences defines us? That seemed wrong, and it probably was, but she liked the sound of it. Made her happy for some strange, inexplicable reason. She fell asleep in the tub, only to be awoken by sharp knocks on the door.

“Time to take out the trash.” Mother said.




Tyche beach was as empty as it was before. The seagulls still called the beach chairs home. The sun shimmered against the water with the same spectral glow. The only thing different from April’s previous visit was the direction in which the bottle traversed, further and further toward the infinite sun. Her question was now out there, but if no answer came, she wouldn’t be surprised.

“Who Are You?” The black cursive ink asked the sea as it made its way closer and closer to the center of oblivion.

*

word count: 2000