GOLDEN SOLIPSISM

Here we go again, I thought. I could not understand why this kept happening to me. My teacher, Mrs. Dempster, continued staring at me, the class joining in. We were all playing kickball on a class trip to another middle school in our district, just a stone-throw away from the long boarded-up old gold mining caves.

It was the first time I had actually gone to their baseball field. It was a nice change of pace from our regular outings, and I’d hopefully get lucky enough to see Adrianna. What a lovely girl, so funny with a great smile, small ears, a slim figure and golden hair. Oh that hair… it flew in long beautiful strands of strawberry short cake. Her hair color was close to perfect; red-golden -superb wavy and balanced hair on a 14 year old girl I’d had a crush on since kindergarten. How could I forget the first memory of genuine bliss? But for the time being, I was concerned about my own hair color.

Good God, I was red in the face with embarrassment, and my hair was as white as a dove flying through a snow storm! White, the color white, was all I was thinking about. I knew that was the reason why sixty plus pupils from my class and the other school were looking in disbelief. Worm, my best friend in the whole world, gave me his Adidas baseball cap to hide my ‘zombie boy hair.’

“Thanks, genius,” I muttered. I did not call him “Genius,” in a sarcastic manner, but more in a good-thinking-genius manner. I often called Worm by his other nickname, Genius. He was good looking and athletic on the outside, but a smart, quick, funny and all-round brilliant friend on the inside.

Mrs. Dempster grabbed me and brought me under the shade of a tree with a massive trunk. She sat me down and asked me why my hair had turned white and if this had ever happened to me before. “Yes, once before,” I replied. “I will also get a massive migraine soon enough.”

Oh the shame! Especially with Adrianna watching and all the others smirking, some with jaws wide opened. The feeling of a gold digging-pick ax rammed through my skull, the pain of the migraine was indescribable! I lay down in the burnt brown grass and waited for the paramedics to come and bring me to the hospital again.

The sun was scorching hot in the hot June afternoon; the Nevada sun was relentless this summer. So, here I was, on the ground, with all these people around, astonished at the color of my hair. Surely, they’d never ever seen a 14-year-old with hair as white as snow. Although, I’ve never seen snow in real life, I did see it on TV every Christmas. Oh how I wished to have some snow to roll in now and rub all over my face and forehead, anything to ease the headache and relieve me from this damn sun.

The tree was barely making enough shade for me and Mrs. Dempster, and the glare of the high sun was preventing me from taking a good look at Adrianna, standing there ten feet from me in her little summer dress. Strawberry Short Cake, I kept thinking. That was the last thing I remember before I passed out.

The school had obviously contacted my mom about the incident at Yellow Gems’ Middle School because she was at my bedside when I woke up in the hospital room. The room was familiar to me, clean, sterile, with Peter Pan wallpaper. I had visited this same room twice before in the past year or so.

“Are you ok, my little darling?” she whimpered. Mom was always so sweet and caring. “Carlos! Your hair came back to normal. For pity’s sake, why in the devil is this happening to you?” she exclaimed. It was funny how she was looking at me like I had the answer to her question.

“I don’t know, Mom, I guess I played kickball too hard again,” I said, confused.

“When it’s this hot outside, you should not exert yourself, Carlos,” Mom said. She was clearly concerned. Although we didn’t have much money, our family did very well in terms of harmony together and with the community. And, living in a small community as we did, everyone knew about one another’s situation.

Dr. Pinoche came in. He had a schnauzer for a nose and bushy eye brows that probably needed their own daily hygienic ritual. Not to knock the guy, particularly because he was such an outstanding physician, but you’d think that a man of his stature and wealth could afford a nose job. At least a trimmer for his eye brows, not to mention his ear hair, nose hair and the chest hair popping out of his button shirt.

“Hi, Carlos, how are you doing?” asked Dr. Pinoche.

“I’m doing much better,” I replied. “How long was I out for?” I asked.

Dr. Pinoche examined my chart carefully; his nose could cast its own shadow. “You were out for just a little over one hour,” he said. He then went to my mother and informed her that I had some sort of ‘vitamin deficiency and mineral imbalance’ in my body and that for some unknown reason, my hair would lose all of its color when I had a ‘spell’.

“But why now, Doctor?” my mom asked.

“The onset of puberty can make the body do strange things. I’m happy that Carlos’ hair came back to its original colour,” he replied. “I suggest for Carlos to drink plenty of O.J. and eat lots of fruits, veggies and red meat for tonight’s dinner. The other thing that could be triggering these spells is the drama he went through last September,” the doc explained to Mom. “I know that this is Carl’s third visit here in the past few months, and all things considered, the death of a loved one can take a huge toll on the body of a young person. We all know what happened to your husband and it must have been traumatic, especially as Carlos saw and was part of the accident. I would recommend some counselling. I know a great counsellor who works with young teens,” continued Pinoche. I liked Dr. Schnauzer. Despite his hairy holes, he had a strange aura about him, and it seemed that he knew something we did not. Deep down inside, I knew that his second prognosis was more accurate than the first one.

The doc told me to stay in bed and wait until my I.V. was empty. By the time I’d sucked up all my I.V., Worm, my younger brother Eduardo and my older sister Carmella came in for a visit.

“Yo, Car, you ok?” asked Ed, concerned.

“Car, Car, Car, I told you not to play in the sun in the afternoon!” nagged Carmi.

Worm, however, was a bit more focused on his own matters. “My cap! Where is it? Come on, bro... gimme my cap back!” he begged.

Momma threw the dust covered cap to Worm’s chest. “Have a little sympathy, Robert,” she said with a tinge of disdain. Worm looked sorry, but you could see his sorrow was quickly overridden by the fact that summer vacation had begun.

“School’s out! School’s out!” Worm said. “Let’s go biking, I’ll double ride you home, Car,” said Worm.

Mom cut us off: “No, no. No playing tonight, boys,” she interrupted. “Carlos needs his rest, and I need him strong enough to help out at the store this weekend. You know how busy we get.” Although my mom sounded cold at that time, she meant no harm. The priority was to get me back to good health.

Mom owned a little general store in the middle of town that was especially busy on weekends. She didn’t have staff but herself, me and my siblings. We all chipped in on the weekends and on some weeknights also.

Worm dusted off his hat in the germ free environment. It was time for me to get out of bed and go home.