Antimatter

PART I

1

... some of you will go to college and become doctors and lawyers, others will join the workforce. Perhaps some of you will choose to start a family. I see so much potential in all these bright young minds with their whole lives in front of them. Some of you have the leadership qualities to be president. Others have the intelligence to cure diseases, such as cancer and diabetes. I want to stress once again that whatever course you choose, you all have the potential and the obligation to make the world a better place.

A lackluster applause followed Mr. Halber's speech and he strolled back to his seat with a content grin on his face as he pretended to wave at particular students every few strides. He prided himself on having exceptional stage presence and he thought to himself that he had lived up to his expectations today, delivering an inspiring address to the graduating class of Santa Teresa. Once back in the safety of his own seat and out of the spotlight, he was free to glance at the young faces about 100 feet away. He wondered what would become of these graduating seniors. Perhaps some would truly live the American dream, as he had suggested in his speech. He took a brief, prying glance at each of the faces in the first row: A baby-faced redhead with short bangs covering a small patch of acne; a plump young man with dark hair and an inflated midsection who kept pulling his gown from his stomach with his thumb and index finger, perhaps he is self-conscious about his body; an attractive, thin girl with brown skin, fine facial features, and strangely, bright green eyes, the kind of girl I would have asked out if I were 50 years younger, he thought.  He took a slight break from discreetly glaring at the young men and women and rubbed his eyes with the tips of his fingers.

Among the students, there was a myriad of different feelings. Several rows back, toward the middle of the student section, Reggie Madsen kept his eyes focused on the stage, but his mind was running marathons a thousand miles away. At one point, he was reliving his first varsity basketball game play by play. Under the aegis of Coach Madsen, head basketball coach of the Sartans and Reggie's father, his mediocre skills allowed him to be a star on a team with a 36-57 record over four years. They never made the tournament, but Reggie scored 46 points in a game against Morioll, landing him on the top 10 board in the Santa Teresa gymnasium.

As he sat there on graduation day, he was filled with terror. High school will be the high point of my life. It's all downhill from here, he thought. He even considered the possibility of suicide to escape the insipid future that awaited him. That, however, would turn out to be unnecessary. He would go to a small junior college in southern Colorado, but drop out after the semester. He wasn’t quite cut out for college, but he desperately wanted to cling to the fugacious phase of athletic glory. He rode the bench almost every single minute of every college game that semester, but that didn’t stop him from describing to a few of his old friends his role in the team’s wins in painstaking detail. His friends knew he was exaggerating, but they listened anyway.

Two years after his graduation, almost to the day, he died from a drug overdose. It was a shock to his family and a few friends, a tragic anecdote to a few other neighbors and coaches, and a welcome respite for Reggie.

Two rows ahead of Reggie, and about three chairs to the left, Larry Fitzsimmons was planning his escape.  He had endured too many years of torment and bullying at the hands of his classmates. He was a little bit nerdy, according to the other students, and unarguably more awkward with girls than even the average teenage boy. He was one of the most gifted students of the class, but he tended to strive for mediocrity to avoid being singled out for any reason. Right in the middle of the pack is where he wanted to stay.

Other guys used to pick on him endlessly. He had a slightly nervous nature anyway, but it became worse once he realized that someone would ridicule him for any mistake he made. Throughout high school, he felt alienated; a small minority subject to the whim of the majority. The majority, obviously, was composed of the cool kids, the athletes, the pretty girls, and all of the average Joes who were dying to form part of that exclusive group. Perhaps Larry could have joined them if he found an even smaller minority to harass.

I’m gonna leave this town and never come back, he thought, a corny cliché so often associated with graduation day. In Larry’s case, he indeed would never come back. He never saw any of his classmates again; however, he was never quite able to escape his ochlophobia. The only way to escape the wrath of a larger group is to join it. He always refused.

A few seats to the right of Larry sat Hailey Franco, Reggie’s ex-girlfriend and the president of the Student Council. She surreptitiously glanced over at Larry from time to time and wondered what he was thinking. She had witnessed firsthand the harassment that he had endured during the last few years and always worried what he might do if the insults and jokes were ever too much for him to bear. She tried to be friendly to him as long as nobody else was around. She always used to say good morning if she passed him in the hall on the way to her literature class.

During the three hour ceremony, she also had some time to reflect on the last few years. Are there things I would change if I could do everything over again? Of course. But overall, it all turned out pretty well. And what’s the point of even thinking about the past? I can’t change it now. She thought about the bad name she had earned after a party her sophomore year. It was unfortunate, she thought, that one’s whole life could be tossed out the window and replaced with a revised one in the minds of others just because of a single moment of poor judgment. She tried to shake that reputation during her last few years and mostly succeeded. Even though she wasn’t overly attractive, she had many date offers from guys at the school, but after a few dates, they usually decided she was no longer their type.

Many students allowed their minds to drift during the tedious list of names of diploma recipients. Looking back later, they would remember it all as a flash. Interestingly, the mind’s perception of time is not constant, but rather constantly changing from one moment to the next. For some students, the four years of high school went by in the blink of an eye. For others, high school was an eternity and graduation was a long-awaited escape. There are some who later remember that high school flew by, even though they didn’t realize it at the time. There are even some people who live their whole lives in a blur. Although a clock measures every second equally for all people, a clock is but an instrument created to impart some sort of reason or rationality to the idea of time. It is completely objective, ticking monotonously from one second to the next, regardless of the pain, pleasure, embarrassment, or indifference of the individual who passes through time. On graduation day, seconds, minutes, and hours elapsed just like any other day. Those graduating and perhaps the parents, teachers, and friends, would remember the day rather distinctly. For anyone uninvolved with the day, it was apparently inconsequential.

The ceremony concluded and the students went to hug their parents and chat with their friends. Sydney Guerrero saw him approaching out of the corner of her eye and quickly and inconspicuously tried to find a small group to start chatting with to avoid the impending encounter. She awkwardly nudged her way between Tyler Hollins and Eric Martinez and she went to hug her best friend, Laura Washburn.

Well, I guess that’s that!

Yeah, real world, here we come.

I don’t know about you, but I’m really gonna miss all this.

We had some good times.

What’re you planning for tonight?

I was about to tell you that me and Zach were going to Jay’s house for a graduation party. Do you want to come?

Ummm...  Yeah, sure! Just text me later to remind me, okay?

They hugged and Sydney turned to leave. Hey Sydney. He must have followed me the whole way over here and been standing behind me. But, why didn’t Laura say anything? She could’ve at least given me a gesture. She replied, Oh, hi Sam. How’s it going? She was pleased with herself that her voice didn’t shake, even though her heart was still beating fast from being startled. She was now facing him, about two feet away; a little too close, in her opinion. She looked at his face, his disheveled hair, and then quietly stared directly into his bright eyes for a few moments. It may have been only a half second, but it seemed much longer to Sydney, although the silence itself wasn’t the slightest bit awkward. She noticed a slight, almost imperceptible smirk on his face and it made her uncomfortable. Say something already! She could see something different in his eyes. He seemed more content than usual. He seemed more alive.

I’m doing well, of course. What about you? he said without any sort of irregular tone or irony. Sydney had fully regained her composure and quickly replied, overanxiously, though she didn’t think Sam would notice, Good, good. Actually, great. Umm, what’s new? He was still staring at her with such an odd facial expression. It seemed condescending, yet also somehow indifferent. He replied, Anyway, I just wanted to say hi. I hope we can stay in touch. He looked in her eyes, smiled, then turned and walked through the crowd. Sydney watched him for a few strides, but his form was quickly lost in the crowd. How odd, she thought, I wonder what would’ve happened if it had turned out differently two years ago. Sydney went on to chat with other friends, but kept thinking about Sam from time to time.

Sydney, like almost all of the students, was worried that she would never again see some of her classmates after that day. Even though the class wasn’t overly large compared to some schools, there were many kids in her class that she had never taken the time to get to know. She told herself that she was going to have a conversation with several of the strangers of her class before the day was over.

2

Beep! Beep! Beep! ... Beep! Beep! Beep! ... Bee-

Well, it’s time to start another day. I wish I had gone to sleep earlier last night, but I just had so much on my mind. Oh well, I’ll try to catch up on sleep this weekend. Fred Alberts rolled himself up off of his back and sat with his legs hanging off the side of his bed for a few moments as his eyes became accustomed to the early morning light just starting to peek through his window. He sat up straight and tilted his head back until his neck and upper back popped a few times. That had become a part of his morning routine in the last few years and it was one of the only sources of enjoyment left for him. He put his bare feet onto the cold wooden floor and rocked himself off of his bed, taking short steps until his right ankle warmed up and the arthritis became bearable. He put on his slippers and old flannel coat, then headed downstairs.

He was surprised to see that his grandson was already awake and was almost done with a bowl of cereal.

Good morning, Grandpa.

Hey, good morning, sport. What are you doing up so early?

Me and some friends were going to the 3-on-3 basketball tournament today, remember?

Oh, yeah...  I... I think I remember you mentioning that. Is that all you’re having for breakfast?

Yup. I’m not really that hungry.

Well, if you’re not in a big hurry, let me fix you some eggs. You’ll play better if you eat a little bit of protein.

Fred grabbed his old skillet out of the cabinet and set it on his stovetop, then he walked over to the other side of the kitchen and turned on the television. Channel 4 always seemed to have the best local news. ...motorists are backed up for several miles on west I40, as crews work to clear the debris from a fiery twenty car pileup... Fred thought to himself, Those motorists always drive so damn fast. I’m surprised there aren’t more of those kinds of wrecks. Everybody thinks it won’t happen to them. His skillet was starting to get hot and he tossed a slab of butter on it and slid it around the surface with a spatula. ...LCPD confirms that alcohol was a factor in the crash... It doesn’t matter what laws they pass, there are always people who are going to kill themselves or others out of pure stupidity.

Fred grabbed a carton of eggs out of the fridge, along with a block of cheddar cheese and some diced green chiles. This was the same breakfast he has been making for years, so it was second nature to him. He knew exactly when to add the eggs so they wouldn’t stick and when to add the cheese so it would melt right. In a matter of minutes, he had a green chile omelet prepared for his grandson. They both sat down to eat. Eggs and milk, Billy, that’s what you need to start your day off right! None of this sugary crud that you kids like to eat these days. He patted him on the top of the head and ruffled his hair, then he poured him a glass of milk.

It was a cool, mostly clear morning. Fred looked out the window and saw the sun just starting to light up the horizon over the Anonas Mountains. The whole eastern part of the sky turned bright pink with varying shades of orange, red, and yellow sprinkled throughout. One lonely cloud on the horizon was caught in the sun rays and lit up bright pink and blue. Fred thought to himself that if that cloud hadn’t been there, the overall sunrise would have been only a fraction of what it was. The sun, he reasoned, needs something to shine upon to bring out the true splendor.

Grandpa! Are you okay? He looked over at his grandson and saw an alarmed expression on his face. Fred had dropped his fork and it clanked loudly on his plate before falling to the floor. He leaned over to pick it up and said softly, Uhhh... yeah... I just... was listening to the news and my fork slipped out of my hand. Billy replied, Did you know that man, or something?

Fred wiped his fork off with a napkin and set it back on the table. He sat for a moment, pensive, yet eager to say something. He inhaled deeply, then exhaled with a sigh. He wondered where to begin.

He started, "I think I’ve already told you some of this story, but when your grandmother was still alive, many years ago, we used to run a small business in downtown Las Carroñas. We sold all sorts of things in shops around the city and we had even set up a few stores in Rio Porton and Valle del Sol. They have really grown a lot since then, but business at that time was still not bad at all. We set up warehouses and had our own distribution company. We started with just one shop that we started after saving up money for years. The first few years were horribly stressful. We came very close to declaring bankruptcy a few times, but we kept toughing it out and our banker stuck with us through thick and thin.

"I think in the mid-70s business started to pick up significantly. There were more tourists who started coming to Las Carroñas and I suppose there were a few government things that brought people around. We finally started to move our product! In fact, we couldn’t hardly keep everything in stock. People loved what we sold and they kept coming back for more. We didn’t even have to advertise! Before we knew it, we were expanding all over the place. We couldn’t believe our good fortune

"This went on for about a decade or so, but in the late-80s or early-90s, we had competitors coming in and undercutting our prices to try to push us out. We had to cut our prices to compete, while still maintaining our quality. Some of our competitors resorted to violence to try to intimidate us. But, eventually everything cooled down, as it always does.

"Like I mentioned, we were no longer making much money and the whole situation had changed, so we cashed out that business and started a furniture store with our savings. We had a few really good years, selling all different styles of furniture, but especially Western-style and Native American chairs and tables. We used to advertise a lot at the college's sports arena. They had all sorts of basketball and volleyball tournaments. So, when folks would come from all these little towns around the state, we would have big sales and many of them would buy items to take home.

"Anyway, one day this man comes into our store dressed in a three-piece suit with a tie. I remember he was very clean-cut, a little out of place. He walked slowly around the store looking at all sorts of chairs and beds. After about an hour, he came to the front desk and asked to speak with the ‘owner or manager of the establishment.’ I introduced myself and he asked if we could speak in private. I took him to a small office and closed the door, thinking perhaps he was going to propose some sort of business deal.

"‘My name is Hunter Tansley and I am here to discuss a rather urgent matter with you’ is what he said. I can remember it like it was yesterday. He said, ‘I’ve had a few complaints from some of my clients. They say that you’ve discriminated against them.’ Of course, I was absolutely flabbergasted. I had never discriminated against anyone in my life! Can you imagine a business owner, especially a shop owner, discriminating against a potential customer? In that business, it didn’t matter who the customer was, you’d better appease them. Otherwise, you wouldn’t last very long. Word spreads fast and your competitors would be happy to take your customers for you.

"But, I sat there and listened for a little while. It was mostly legal gibberish that I didn’t