SHORT STORY: RV

(Short Story was written in 2015, Sophomore Year at Ohio University)

​Ethan detached the water pipe from the embrace of his lips and exhaled, observing as the smoke ascended into a blanket of developing stratus clouds. He enjoyed watching individual wisps of smoke twist and sputter into shapes before dissipating. It was sweet and abstract – numbing yet sensational. Across the room, The Flaming Lips’ propelled “Fight Test” through a pair of Klipsch desktop speakers, shuddering the direction of the haze with each roar of the bass. Ethan began to feel the psychedelic effects of the bud. The drive of the music inflated the room, and penetrated the racing thoughts consuming Ethan’s conscious. A warm vibration crawled up the length of his spine, and settled in the core of his brain – a euphoric sensitivity that nudges the darkness back into the deep void of his mind. 

​Between the potency of the bud, the vigor of The Flaming Lips, and the calmness of his breathing, Ethan was able to drift. He sauntered through a vast forest engulfed in plush grasses, crystalized by the radiant beams of sunlight creeping through the canopy. However, when Ethan gazed into the awning of the forest, he noticed something bizarre. The branches. Each tree stood lofty, towering over Ethan’s miniscule figure. Yet, every tree possessed the same quality. The branches appeared to be growing on a single side, all arching in one direction. Ethan came to a halt, and shifted his head from side to side, attempting to decipher the meaning of this unusual spectacle. However, his thoughts were interrupted with a disturbance. The noise seemed to shake the forest from the roots of the arching trees, to the horizon that lay beyond the canopy. All at once, the subconscious reality began to disintegrate. 

​There was a pounding on the opposite end of the room. Ethan sprung into place.

“Open this door now,” a voice exclaimed.

​Shit. Ethan realized he had fallen asleep, and quickly attempted to recollect himself. He knew his parents were standing on the other side of the door, ready to ignite him for smoking in his bedroom. It was a routine all too familiar.

“Ethan, goddammit, open this door right now.” 

​With the water pipe still clutched in his grip, Ethan jumped from the futon and began opening windows, allowing clouds of smoke to escape into the damp, spring evening. He shoved the water pipe into a cardboard box and placed it underneath his bed. How long have they been knocking? It didn’t matter. He would face his parents regardless.

​Ethan grabbed the brass knob and twisted, listening patiently for the lock to disengage. When the door clicked, Ethan let his father and mother take the stage. They hauled the door open, ready to attack. His mother stepped inside first. She appeared disgruntled – eyebrows angled menacingly. Ethan couldn’t remember the last time her eyebrows lie horizontally. Ethan’s father lumbered into the room short after, attached to his mother’s ankles like a shadow.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” Ethan’s mother asked.

His eyes floated around the room, double-checking for any signs of paraphernalia or hovering mists of smoke. 

“Napping,” Ethan said while trying to avoid eye contact. “Do you need anything, or can I go back to sleep?”

Ethan’s mother locked eyes with his father, a universal sign for backup.

“Listen you little shit… It reeks in here, your grades suck, and your throwing your goddamn life away. Stop smoking or I’m ripping the door off the hinges.”

Ethan looked his father in the eyes.

​“Then fucking go for it.”

​Ethan watched as the vein along his father’s neck flooded with blood flow, and paused to see whether he would retaliate or leave the premises. The attention went from his father to his mother. Ethan knew the comment, although ill mannered, would most likely diffuse the situation. A wave of discomfort passed along his mother’s face. Ethan had escalated his tone in order to spark uneasiness between everybody in the room. If all goes according to plan, Ethan’s mother will drag his father out to prevent his short temper from conquering all rational judgment. Ever since his father struck him across the face, it had been like this.

​“This isn’t over, Ethan. No more smoking. You’re a seventeen year old burnout for Christ’s sake.” His mother pushed his father out of the room, and slammed it shut. Ethan could feel the anger radiating from his father’s company. He had foiled their plan.

* * *

Ethan slumped his head against the window of the 2004 Dodge Suburban, marveling the emptiness of his hometown. This was his favorite time of day. He imagined millions of people lying horizontally in bed, meandering through the creations of their slumbering mind. He thought of all the people who slept alone, all of the people who slept with lovers, all of the people, sleeping. He wished his mother’s eyebrows would lie horizontally.

“Yo Ethan, you hear me, dude?” Ethan’s trance was shattered. “You’re all quiet and shit, man. It’s buggin’ me out.”

Ethan pulled his head from the stiff glass surface and peered at AJ. AJ was sitting at the wheel, occasionally eyeing Ethan in the passenger seat, ducking beneath the ceiling of the Suburban. AJ soared over Ethan in height. He was a natural-born basketball player, looking at scholarships from everyprestigious school within a two hundred mile radius. That was until four guys jumped him on his way home from practice. Broke a few bones. Turned out to be the wrong guy. Shit happens. 

Ethan and AJ met during a party at the end of last year – a friendship that wouldn’t have existed if not for AJ’s absence from the basketball season. With the sport out of the way, AJ was free to party as freely as he desired – no more drug tests. So thus began their friendship, and while still new, Ethan and AJ both cherished the bond. 

“Man, I said where are we going?” AJ’s voice whined, becoming irritated. 
​Ethan brought himself to full attention and glared through the windshield to determine where he was located. Nothing looked familiar.

“How long have you been driving?” Ethan asked.

​AJ twisted his lips and clenched his left eye – deep in thought.

​“It doesn’t matter. Make the next left.” Ethan shoved his index finger in AJ’s line of sight. “Looks pretty secluded back there, man.” 

​AJ smacked his finger away.

​“Chill dawg. Get your fingers outta my face.”

​AJ disregarded his turn signal and with a quick motion of his wrist, brought the Suburban into the left lane and onto the road ahead. This path was different. Ethan tried to find familiarity in the location but no words accurately matched the description. The road seemed to intertwine with the local state park, but neither could be sure.

Neither Ethan nor AJ spoke a word. Instead, they focused on the unknown destination ahead. The clear sky faded beneath the foliage. Immense trees hobbled over the Suburban, growing denser with each advancing movement. Nonetheless, Ethan noticed something peculiar about the vegetation of the area. The branches. They clung to one specific side of the trees leaving the rest bare. 

Ethan glared over at the driver’s seat.

“Hey AJ, you noticing these trees man.”

The comment passed through AJ like a ghost in the wind.

“Nah, I don’t know. I’ve never been back here before.”

The trees continued to arch in a single direction, as if they were guiding the 2004 Dodge Suburban. The branches did not move either. Each tree stood perfectly still.

In the distance, a dead-end was visible. No more roads, however, there was something else – something entirely different. 

* * *

The RV was tan with orange stripes down the center of the body marked: REPOSSESSED. The metal tin sat along the curb of the dead-end, and had a rustic ambiance that could be felt from the exterior of the machine. The wheels sagged with air loss, and the headlights were smashed. It was pitiful, but Ethan loved it.

“All we did was go looking for a place to smoke and look what we stumble on,” said AJ, “Like, why do you think they left it here like this?”

“I don’t know. But lets go inside.”

AJ halted his advancing steps. 

“You serious? There could be like, squatters in there. I don’t know how I feel about that.”

It was too late. Ethan ran to the side door, grabbed the rusty latch, and sprung the door wide open. The swinging door carried an odor that surged through the air, pungent yet not foul enough to keep Ethan from bolting up the stairs and into the RV. Ethan’s curiosity had peaked, especially when he realized that the encircling trees all pointed to the RV with their twisting, spring-blooming branches.

“Are you serious?” AJ hesitated, but was not far behind.

The inside of the RV was carpeted in two-inch deep shag – homage to a distant past. The kitchen counter-top and seating area were also layered deeply in a mysterious black substance. 

“What do you make of this, E?” AJ pointed at the black substance masking the furniture. 

Ethan extended his fingers, felt the substance, and brought his fingers up to his nose.

“Ash,” Ethan said, “Looks like someone beat us here.”

AJ began feeling uneasy – nauseous.

“Relax, looks like whoever did it hasn’t been here in a while,” Ethan reassured his friend. “Lets just smoke up. I mean, how many people can say they’ve smoked in an RV in the middle of nowhere, am I right?”

AJ shuffled around nervously before brushing aside the ash and plotting himself down onto the soft embrace of the sofa.

“I swear, anytime I hang out with you we end up doing some Rambo-type shit.”

Ethan removed the herb grinder from the pocket of his hoody, untwisted the cap and began pinching freshly ground marijuana. He placed the herb between a Juicy J pineapple paper, and began shifting his fingers into place. His thumb rolled forward on the filter, causing the edge of the paper to curl around the sticky substance. 

“Hey man, so like, what’s up with your parents, they freak on you?”

Ethan began licking the length of the pineapple paper, and folded the top piece over the rest of the figure.

“Who knows anymore? All they talk about is how I’m fucking up my life. All because I smoke a little bit of pot.” Ethan ran his fingers around the joint, checking for uneven creases in the paper. “They don’t care about anything except how much capital I’m gonna make so that I’m happy. Like, no fuck that. We make money and for what. Like who the fuck am I? And How am I supposed to prepare for a word in five years if I’m still trying to figure out how to prepare for this moment right now.” Ethan sprinkled the remaining bud into the cone shaped joint. “Think about it. Think about all of the jobs that don’t even exist yet. Think about how much can change in five years, in one year, in one single day. I don’t even know what I’m good at.”

“I feel you bro, it’s not like I can play ball anymore. I’m beat too. Parents talking about trade school and community college. Like shit, I never did well in no classroom.”

“Yeah, but you grow some damn good weed.”

“That’s twisted, man.”

“I know it is, bu-.” 

“No, I mean, you twisted the joint already.”

Ethan gazed down into his fingers, and noticed a freshly rolled joint. For a brief moment, he forgot about the angst that clung to his soul, and instead he admired the wonderful creation.

Ethan took out a lighter and studied the journey from spark to flame. He watched as the warmth disintegrated the paper, delivering fragments of ash onto the kitchen countertop and silk-threated sofas. 

The joint circled back and forth between the two boys, until eventually it became too tiny. Ethan took one last deep breath and exhaled, permitting the smoke to rise and clutter like clouds amongst the RV. Ethan grabbed the joint roach and placed the carcass in the sink for use as an ashtray. There was a sizzle before one last strand of smoke withered into nothingness. Ethan let go of the roach and observed it’s decent. He became intrigued of the finite destination, the floor with the smoke’s infinite possibilities. Ethan’s mind faded from the conflict at home, because right now this moment, this falling piece of a joint is the most important occurrence that he can possibly perceive at this time.

 “God, I’m fried,” said Ethan.

Ethan and AJ exited the RV, closing the door behind them. They entered AJ’s 2004 Dodge Suburban and began their voyage back home. Ethan placed his head against the passenger-side window, and allowed his eyes to wonder to the canopy of the encircling forest, gazing upon the darkness of the night, the possibilities of the now, but most of all, the direction of the branches, pointing toward the exit of the RV cul-de-sac.