Page 33 of The Fall Classic

Oh, wait, aren’t those flavors at the ice cream place? Mudpies?

Logan

Mudcakes

Lucas

ARE YOU ON A DATE?

Logan

No, I’m going out to get celebratory ice cream.

Lucas

With Georgiana. It’s happening.

Logan

Why are you even suggesting that? I told you after the All-Star Game that I couldn’t find her and told you to drop it.

Lucas

I know you. You track your macros like you tracked your reading minutes in second grade. If you’re eating ice cream before dinner, it’s because you’re treating yourself.

Scottie agrees with me, by the way. She says hi. She also says to get two scoops—silted caramel on top and compost crunch on the bottom. Not pothole pecan. They have the same base but compost crunch also has toffee bits and a bunch of stuff in it and is yummier.

Her words.

For your date.

Logan

No comment on the date.

But thank Scottie for me.

Lucas

Anything to help. We’re rooting for you.

I pause, looking at the way he said “we” about him and Scottie the way I still say “we” about him and me.

It’s hard going from thinking of yourself as a unit to seeing your unit move on without you.

I put the phone face down, take off my hat, and massage my temples, glad the AC is keeping up with the muggy day.

Stress tightens my shoulders, but I force myself to think back to the flotation tank this morning.

I’ve done over a half dozen sessions now, and this morning was the most productive one yet. I started tracking my own heartbeat and trying to keep tabs on where my body ended and the water began, but then I thought about Georgie quoting “The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep.”

Except, I didn’t make it past the mention of promises before everything seemed to go soft. The darkness stopped feeling like absence and all sensation blurred into this feeling of oneness. My thoughts, my skin, the boundary between my existence and the universe, they all faded completely and I just … was.

Dr. Chang and I met in the small room adjacent to the tank afterward, and I could tell he was pleased.

“How did it feel?” he asked, looking at me over the reading glasses he kept perched on his nose for when he wanted to write in his notepad.

“Different,” I said. He waited. “It’s like I was alone but also part of something. Part of everything. That sounds dumb.”