Let me tell you about a place unrivaled by any other single creation fashioned by god or man, a place with infinite possibilities, and the last bastion of unsullied bliss in a bleak world - Target.
Stress, worry, anxiety, these trifles can't enter through the automatic sliding doors of Target as the purified air rinses the skin and invigorates the senses. The floors are a polished white. The sanitized Christmas red carts glide like a chariot through the gates of heaven. The men's section is perfect for the guy who wants to approximate a hipster without devoting any time to growing a man bun or memorizing the flavor profiles of various South American coffee beans. The electronics section is at the cutting edge of technological breakthroughs, providing the latest in all manner of synergistic integrations of style and convenience. The home and furniture sections perfectly fuse shabby chic and elegance as if braised in a Michelin Star restaurant.
Nothing could touch Luka as he soared through each magnificent aisle of Target. Though he had no money, the world was his. He dared to be happy, at least superficially, which was a joyous improvement. He made his way to his favorite aisle, the candy aisle. It's not that Luka liked candy; in fact, he did not, but he religiously chewed chewing gum, and Target had his favorite brand for only $1.99.
Luka started chewing gum as a study technique. He would pick a flavor of gum and chew it as he studied, and the next day, when he would take his exam, he would pull out a stick of gum and chew. The flavor would help bring him back to his study session, and without fail, he would ace his exams. As Luka hovered the singular item over his uncluttered chariot, he paused and closed his eyes as if basking in a moment of sun in winter - then his entire body went cold. A laugh sprang out in the vague distance. One as uncluttered and unburdened as the sad Target cart held by Luka's now numb hand.
"It simply could not be," Luka thought, as his body instinctively hunched over like a turtle retreating into its shell. "If this is real, there must be a hell, and there must be a God to put me there," he thought.A melancholic curiosity took over Luka's body; his feet dragged briskly to the end of each aisle as if they both desperately wanted to know and not know at the same time. His feet went on, carrying his sunken eyes to their greatest fear: Clara, shoulder to shoulder with someone else.He crept backward, barely breathing while trying to recreate his worst fears. "She was definitely with some other guy," he thought. It had only been four weeks since their break-up, and every day for Luka was a triumph to simply get out of bed and command his lungs to inhale and exhale 22,234 times a day - and each one was a negotiation.
He thought about how each day in their relationship must've been so different for her. She seemed to be thriving - him wilting. Having heard her laugh for the first time in months, his opinion of himself was crystalizing in a demoralizing way. His soul lay crushed on the scuffed white floor, an aisle away from the only person he had ever loved. He would not move from that spot for what felt like hours, but as the sounds of Clara and her new "friend" were disappearing in the distance, he heard her new friend say, "let's get out of here" in a way that decimated his remaining will to fill his lungs with polluted air.
Luka eventually made his way to the car, gumless. His hands were shaking. His feet were numb. His shock was beginning to thaw and give way to unbearable pain and sadness when out of the corner of his eye, he saw Clara, leaving the Target parking lot, in the passenger seat of a highlighter yellow luxury sports car. A morbid curiosity caused Luka to do what he knew he should not. He put his recognizably old car in drive and, against his better judgment, began to follow.
Narrator Aside: (In Luka's defense, his need to see his devastating anguish through to the end was less voluntary than one might imagine. What was happening at that moment wasn't much different than something that Luka had read about moths in his eighth-grade science class. For over a hundred years, moths have had a fatal attraction to lightbulbs. Luka learned that moths have evolved to travel by the light of the moon and the stars. This is called transverse orientation, and it guides moths, through dark nights, with celestial guidance to a place of refuge. Unfortunately, when humans made lightbulbs ubiquitous, we destroyed the relationship that moths have with the moon and stars. They now believe and are evolutionarily compelled to believe that the lightbulb is the moon and the ultimate place of refuge. However, because of our need to light the outsides of our homes, we kill an immeasurable amount of moths a year.
At this moment, because of his overactive anthropomorphic imagination, Luka felt like the moth he had read about so many years ago. He was simply following transverse orientation. He believed Clara to be a celestial light, but she was more akin to Edison's lightbulb. His evolutionary need would guide him to the final resting place of his broken heart.
End of aside.)
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Luka turned onto the main road, keeping just enough of a distance to follow and remain unseen. Only a few miles climbed on the speedometer of Luka's sputtering car before commercial buildings gave way to palatial estates. There were no potholes in the road, no homeless bodies on bus stop benches, or rundown apartments with ironic names like, 'Palm's Paradise.' This was actual paradise. Luka heard the engine of the luxury car rev as it turned onto a residential street. Luka felt his heart in his throat as he flicked his turning signal upwards. He turned onto More St. and panicked. "Of course, this is a gated community!" he thought as he pressed the gas pedal to his mat-less floor. The car delayed in adhering to Luka's urgent request as black smoke sputtered from his exhaust, but it eventually charged forward, narrowly passing the community gate before it closed. Luka's eyes flashed around the immaculate cul-de-sac, scanning the gaudy monuments to incontestable wealth. A most sickly relief washed over him when he noticed the last house on the left glinted with highlighter yellow in its driveway. Transfixed, he drove up slowly, conceding any effort to conceal himself, as the winged car doors opened up. Jealousy, rage, sadness, and disbelief fell upon Luka all at once as he watched the man emerge from the vehicle. He was tall, thin, and well-dressed, but he was older. "What is Clara doing with him," Luka muttered. "He must be 60 years old." The man walked around the car to the other side and grabbed Clara's outstretched hand as she emerged from the vehicle. She followed the old man to his front door in a short sundress that Luka had never seen before. As the man opened the giant brass doors, Luka noticed Clara quickly fixing her hair behind him.
Luka shut his eyes as the door shut behind Clara. He gripped the steering wheel so hard that the faux leather began to peel and rub against his palms. He slammed his hand upon the dash and let out a yell that was more of a cry than a yell. Luka's journey was complete.The drive home was a sobering journey. Luka had sobbed for hours in a condemnable car in an affluent neighborhood as anxious dog-walkers contemplated the need for law enforcement to scrub their Levittown clean. Somehow, each heart-wrenching gasp covered the epicenter of his emotions with scar tissue. By the time he arrived home, Luka was an emotional amputee. He walked through the stamped hardboard door to his room and fell on his bed like a man hit in the back with an arrow in an old western film. -
YOU ARE READING
Big Toe
General FictionLuka is a polite introverted college student whose life begins to unravel when his girlfriend of three years leaves him. He soon finds himself unable to maintain his grades and pay his rent. Working full-time while sleeping in his car, Luka decides...
