The Hijra

It’s the middle of the night. I think I was dreaming. Someone’s knocking on my window. My window? When I was little I once thought I saw the dude from the “neighborhood watch” signs – the silhouette with the hat – pass outside my window. It scared the shit out of me, I couldn’t get the image out of my mind, I knew it couldn’t be real because it looked way too much like the dude from the “neighborhood watch” signs but I stayed scared for weeks and then when I thought I had forgotten about it popped into my head and scared me again. It’s three a.m. and someone is knocking on my window. Instead of actually feeling anything I’m laying in bed thinking about what I should be feeling about the fact that someone is knocking on my window at three a.m. Mostly I don’t want to have to get up because I’m warm; it’s more that I won’t be warm if I get out of bed. Still knocking, drumming actually, twice four fingers and then a pause, regular but not regular enough to be mechanical. It doesn’t have to be a person, plenty of birds and raccoons in these wild suburbs. It would be really cool if it was a person. In Tom Sawyer Huck stands outside of Tom’s window and mews like a cat when he wants him to sneak out. I always wished I had a friend who would do that. Of course, Tom sometimes didn’t realize what was going on so Huck had to resort to throwing gravel.

“Joseph!”.

Now that’s just creepy. Someone just called my name just as I was thinking about having a friend come get me to sneak out of the house in the middle of the night.

“Dude, wake up and get the fuck out here, I’m freezing.”

I know this is real but I’m still just laying here trying to figure out why I’m still laying here. I’m not afraid. The old Mission Impossible TV series always started with “Your mission, should you chose to accept it...” I always wondered what would happen if they said no. It’d be really cool to have one episode where we got see what the team did when they didn’t have a mission. It would also be massively boring, probably even worse than this past week I’ve spent at home with my parents.

“I know you’re awake. If you don’t get out of bed I’m ringing the doorbell and waking your parents up.”

I really want to get out of bed because I really don’t want my parents to be woken up by Joseph at three a.m. But, I sleep in my underwear. So what that it’s Joseph and I’m a college graduate and it’s three a.m.? I’m wearing briefs.

Why is Joseph rapping his fingers on my window at three in the morning?

“Dude, why are you rapping your fingers on my window at three in the morning?”

This insane. We might have thought something like this up back in High School. Except that in High School we couldn’t have pulled it off, parents n’all. I remember my second week away at college. I bought a graphic novel at the comic book store. It was either Ode to Kirihoto or Kapilavastu, I can’t remember and it doesn’t matter for this story anyway. This was one a Saturday. I bought the book around eleven. I’d slept in a little, had a nice breakfast, simple college Saturday, and then went for a walk. I happened to pass the comic bookstore on my walk. The whole thing was a free whim. Two blocks further up was this nice coffee shop. I got a drink – probably hot chocolate, with whipped cream of course – and sat and read for like three hours. I could just sit and read because no one was expecting me anywhere and when I got home no one was going to ask where I had been or what I had done or why I had spent money on some graphic novel. My parents were strict but not oppressive. I could have gone through these same motion three weeks before at home. It just felt good to choose to do it. We could pull it off now, this insane middle of the night prelude to an escapade. And I guess we are which is awesome, I guess, – I just wish I could remember why we would have thought something like this up back in High School.

“Jailbreak!”

Joseph actually answered me somewhere in the middle of that previous thought but I only just heard it. He said ‘Jailbreak!’ It’s the wrong metaphor. We’ve talked about that before, or at least outlined what a conversation about it would be. We’ve never talked about what happened back at college. I want to get up and close the blinds in a grand dramatic gesture then go back to sleep without a second thought.

“Sounds good but can we do it in like two hours when I’m actually awake”

In control, touch of wit, a nod to doing the ‘cool thing’ but still playing my cards close to my chest, and I don’t stumble over any of the words. Perfect. So this time I say it out loud.

“Sounds good but can we do it in like two hours when I’m actually awake.”

I don’t think Joseph was expecting that. I’m not sure what he was expecting. He can’t have expected me to actually get up and go with him right this second. He’s probably trying to figure out whether or not I’m serious. He’s probably cursing the fact that everyone can discern these fine distinctions except him. Except this is Joseph and he actually can.

“1.5”

He actually says one point five. Now I can’t tell whether he’s kidding or not. It’s like game of chicken except the drivers don’t know whether they’re in bumper cars or the real thing. I think he’s walking back to his car. I don’t want any of this. That just sort of hit me.

Once I’m up I’m awake. It’s actually easy. I’m probably forgetting something, sure of it actually, but that’s all part of it. In a way I’ve already planned all of this, not consciously consciously but it all feels familiar. There are a lot of things I could be worrying about. I’m not sure where to leave the note. My desk is messy, they may not find it. I could leave it on my bed, especially if I made it – they’d notice that. This is the other note I’ve always thought of leaving. “I Quit.” I like Qs. Joseph’s going to get a laugh out of this. I should send him a postcard from wherever it is I end up with this stunt. It’ll read “I Win,” that way quitters will be winners. Those would make good chapter titles for a book. I Quit could be the first chapter and I Win could be the last. I guess that means It’s a Tie should be in the middle. But this isn’t the middle. I can’t tell what it is. A lot has happened but I don’t know what to do with any of it yet.

I’ve never run away before. When people talk about how they ran away from home when they were eight – blankie trailing behind them – and made it all the way to the end of the block, I envy them. It would have been even better if I had tied bedsheets together and thrown them out the window and climbed down all stealthy, maybe right past the living room window. I want a two story house just so my kids will have the opportunity to do that. I have about as much an idea of where I’m going after I reach the end of the block as those eight-year-olds, but at least I’m not trailing a blankie anymore. There’s a great children’s book about running away and hiding out in a museum. But she had everything planned out perfectly. I’ve thought about lots of things lots of times but I honestly don’t think that running away has ever come up before. And yet out of all my crazy ideas I’m out here at about four in the morning trudging to nowhere with limp backpack. I feel good. I feel great. I feel a tad cold. My mind is still racing but none of it’s important. Wow. This is big. This is real.

“YAWP”, barbaric to the core!

Sleep would be good. Soon. Next time I should run away after a full night’s rest. Or at least a good nap.