Restless Sunday. Cars zipper merged up the street aimlessly. Construction spilled into next week, and the air filled with small rocks. A slice of street had been removed, as if peeling back the skin before surgery. Heavy machinery towered, dormant.
June's hand rested over their brow as they squinted towards commotion. They'd walked this street for a couple months now. A haze lifted from the asphalt, sepia with dirt. Between bus stops, it was the kind of place no one walked. The street had primarily served a business park, one large, pentagonal building with tendrils dissecting the parking lot. When the neighborhood got bored to a standstill, enterprise slowly drained until people just stopped coming. That was always the right time to show up, for June.
One of the wings was boarded up. Halfway down was the destination. A small shelter formed between a dumpster and a raised Dutch stoop, conveniently joined by a tarp borrowed from the construction site. June tucked their knees and was swallowed by shadow. The comfort rag was pulled from their coat and doused in gas, then delicately wrapped to cover their nose and mouth, tied with a neat bow. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Again. Settle in to this pocket. A low shiver shook the cloth from their face, and it rolled to collect dirt below. Fresh air was a minor disappointment.
Then, the smile arrived. The world washed in the soft glow of film grain, little dots speckled their vision. A light breeze swept through the alleyway and yanked June out of their hole. It left goosebumps up and down their arms that tickled worse than bug bites. Laughter filled their lungs. Choking with laughter. Exhaling with laughter, when does the air come in?
The sidewalk whipped a dust devil around their feet, and they began a dance. Twirling, twirling. They were out of themselves for a moment, "I look fucking crazy." Breath came in reedy, pressured, then in knives as the tears approached. Before the valley really flattened out and they could drown, a hand waved beneath their vision. It blurred into a fan and their eye's glazed.
"Hey, you good?" A tiny woman noticed them, dwarfed by her backpack.
"UH .. yeah ha, you caught me on a rough day." June frowned, they sounded crazy.
"It's looking rough my dear. Are you having trouble breathing?" The woman kept her distance.
"I do. I do sometimes yeah. Yeah I am."
The woman grimaced, and rummaged her pockets. "Okay well, let's take a pause. Can we take a pause?"
"Yeah."
"Great. Pause." The woman placed both hands out in front of her, as if to steady the earth.
"Pause" June slowly mouthed. They place their hands in front of them. They seemed to vibrate and the earth moved as a wave pool.
"Follow my breathing. We're going to breathe in cycles. Breathe in for 7 seconds." Her gaze hovered softly over her knuckles, always focused on her hands. June did the same.
"Now breathe out for 7 seconds."
"In for 7 seconds. Now out for 7 seconds."
"Now in. Now out." The world found its axis. June focused on the patchy grass that no one maintained alongside the road.
"Close your eyes. In. Out."
The world came back. Horns called out, a siren beamed as a cop tore down the street and then out of vision. June watched the median chase after, straight to the curve of the earth.
The woman watched too, in silence, and then broke it.
“Breath is life. Find it and it will lead you.” She outstretched her hand, a small index card. “Call me if anything comes up.” June grabbed without touching skin, and placed it inside her jacket.
The woman walked off. June sat down and felt the earth beneath them. Deep breath in. They held it, and slowly sighed.
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Someone had seen the body while they drove by. They were learning against the window and then bam, it was laying there, half in the street. So they called 911.
"How many times are we going to get called onto Central?"
"This is my first time today, it could be worse Manny."
"Don't tell me it could be worse, we haven't even seen 'it.' Anyways, I'm still on coffee one, we'll be back to Central."
The ambulance skidded to a stop behind the construction line. The kid had fallen when stumbling through the loose dirt.
"Just a passed out junkie. If you can't help a passed out junkie anymore, this isn't your job man."
"These kids creep me out. It's like they're dead when we get here."
"They are dead when we get here. That's the point."
The kid looked dead. Emmanuel booted the ambulance door and approached, kicking up dust. Hand on chest, no rise no fall. Hand formed to half fist, he raked their sternum. June shifted slightly. Gaseous vapors knocked loose from their clothes and enveloped Emmanuel. He choked tears away. He plucked a plastic barrier from his vest pocket and unfolded the packet. A small tube, skirted by a plastic gown. It shimmered as the wind kicked up. He tucked the tube delicately down their throat. The wind rose and his diaphragm expanded. Emmanuel tasted the street: the crushed dirt, the still water and empty Gatorade bottles, the sweat-out gas. He exhaled and pushed June’s lungs to burst. Jamey lit a cigarette from the driver’s seat and watched on.
A small dose of naloxone pierced the kid’s deltoid and worked magic. Twilight colors grew, shadow swallowed sidewalk then gutter. Emmanuel pressed and pressed their chest. A groove in the dirt nestled their body with each shift.
Emmanuel spit into his hands and wiped off on his jeans. All he could taste was gasoline. As he rested, the kid curled up and vomited. Their body was all ropes and knots. In a flash, Emmanuel lifted their form into the back of the truck. Emmanuel laid down next to them.
Jamey played attendant. Oxygen for the kid’’s nose. VItamin B shot for Manny’s arm. The rhythm of dry heaving was like the gentle rocking of a boat at the dock.
White lights bathed the party. The kid opened their eyes. The chrome clean interior made the street feel a million miles away. The machine breathed for them as the ignition hitched. Emmanuel sighed and pretended to sleep.