They’d been hanging out all Summer, silly kids doing the silly things that they did the summer before their last year of school.
Him and his friends had treated this summer like a right of passage, doing all the things that made the saying: “Boys will be boys”.
He’d been at the pool all day, but he was cold sober. He’d woken up after days of drinking, bong hits, and pill popping with a want of sobriety. He wanted to remember what sobriety was like.
So he’d had a large breakfast of eggs, toast, bacon and fresh squeezed juice. Pancakes with organic maple syrup of course, his house only had the best stuff.
Then he’d napped all afternoon, clearing himself of days worth of drugs, with one heavy handed nap.
He’d woken sober in the early evening empty and happy, with no clear view of the future.
He was sober. This is what straight thinking was like.
He decided to get away from the constant hum of his friends’ erratic thinking, and waved them off with a laugh. His friends always sensed when it was time to leave Nate’s house. He had a way of spreading his energy throughout in a manner that simply stated: I need my space back. Rich kids had that ability, they were so used to getting what they wanted that their body emanated their thoughts without having to use words.
He sat in his empty pool house for about 2 whole seconds before deciding that he needed a different scenery.
I’m tired of the endless summer sun he complained to himself. There wasn’t enough night for him in those summer months, it was as if the sun was constantly beating on him forcing him to move forward and keep working, and keep smiling even though he felt like keeping his lips still.
He was surprised at his surroundings, he hadn’t meant to go on a walk, he thought he was just pacing, but here he was in a completely different neighborhood. The sidewalks were more narrow and he tripped on a crack. He laughed in surprise as he noticed messes and gum wads, colored blotches and stains. Sidewalks weren’t like that where he was from.
He should have just looked for the nearest payphone, and called his parents to get him, but no. He felt like playing today. What if he was from a neighborhood like this? What would he act like? What would he do? What type of person would he be.
An extreme thirst came over him in this moment. An intense crave for a beer. It was as if his comfortable sobriety had been noticed by his senses and they needed an altered state, asap.
He caught wind of some youth ready for a beer run. It doesn’t matter what neighborhood you’re from, mischief recognizes mischief, and there is no faster teamwork than thirsty youths looking for beer.
But he hadn’t expected the liquor store owners response. He was used to playing these pranks at neighborhood grocery stores where the managers expected these pranks and then sent the parents a bill for the damage. Walking out of restaurants or even boldly going behind bars to help himself to a drink had not prepared him for this.
The owner pulled a gun, and shot his first accomplice straight in the chest with no second thought. As another youth ran out the door, he was shot in the back. DO NOT MOVE were his instructions, and he followed them, scared and anxious for the police to get there. But when the police got there, he was shocked to find he didn’t know the officer, how far had he walked?
Once at the station, sweaty, bloodied, with long summer hair, greasy from the sweat his fear brought he was getting booked.
“What’s your name, boy”
“Nate Dielli, Sir, please call my parents, there’s been a terrible mistake.”
Little did Nate know, that this had been a night of the Nate Diellis. His friends, angry at having been waved off on a Friday night had gone on a rampage in the next town over. Pranking citizens and spitting on police officers, Nate Dielle, was the name they kept using.
“What’s your name, boy?”
“Nate Dielli.”
He was unjustly punished by a rookie cop with a complex, a loser who demanded respect his whole life and had never really gotten it. If he had known this was the real Nate Dielli he might of acted differently. But he thought he was dealing with the slightly less affluent friends, the ones who didn’t have their own pool houses and had to hang out with rich kids or have nowhere to be.
That rookie cop ruined two lives that night. Although one would end with a gun shot to the head, while the other would start the journey of the Sun Chaser.
Consider reading the previous Night Sun Episodes.
click here for Night Sun Episode #4
click here for Night Sun Episode #3
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