in parentheses

Mercury-Marvin Sunderland (he/him) is a transgender autistic gay man with Borderline Personality Disorder. He’s from Seattle and currently attends the Evergreen State College. He’s been published by University of Amsterdam’s Writer’s Block, UC Riverside’s Santa Ana River Review, UC Santa Barbara’s Spectrum, and The New School’s The Inquisitive Eater. His lifelong dream is to become the most banned author in human history. He’s @Romangodmercury on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter.

His work is regularly featured on In Parentheses.

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Giant Clear Bandage

“Hey, are you okay?”

            Julius looked up from his shaking knees. He was just barely standing up. He could barely remember what had happened, just that he was panicking. The world felt blurry and unfocused and he was quite dizzy.

            “Here, here, I’ll help you up.”

            He felt someone grab him by the arm. His other arm was sore for some reason. He couldn’t remember why. He just knew that it hurt so much that he couldn’t even move it. He felt something bump against it and that made it hurt even worse. He could feel some kind of thin wrapping over it, but it didn’t feel like any sort of bandage he was familiar with.

            Is my arm broken. Is my arm broken. Is my arm broken.

            He tried to speak but he couldn’t. He felt himself being dragged out of a doorway and into a chair. He collapsed. His eyes were barely open. He heaved a giant breath.

            “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

            No response.

            “Can you nod or shake your head?”

            He nodded. Just barely.

            “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

            He shook his head. Just barely.

            “I think you’re lying.”

            Julius shook his head again.

            “Do you need water?”

            He nodded. Fingers tipped his mouth open. He swallowed. He widened his eyes and could see that it was one of his classmates.

            “Good. Good. I can see this is working. Can you talk?”

            He shook his head.

            “Do you know what happened?”

            He shook his head.

            “You literally just fainted in the middle of campus.”

            Julius blinked.

            “Diego?” he asked.

            “Hi.”

            Awkward silence.

            “Why are you here?”

            “That’s not important. You need to be okay.”

            “Okay, but why are you here. I thought you graduated.”

            “Do you think you’re recovering?”

            He glared at him.

            “Yes.”

            “Good.”

            “Is my arm broken?”

            “Yes. Your tattoo disappeared.”

            “My what?”

            “You’re dealing with lack of nutrition. You need to go grocery shopping.”

            “This doesn’t make sense,” Julius protested.

            He then woke up.

            “Oh,” he realized.

            His arm was resting gently on a pillow. It was covered in a giant clear bandage to protect his new tattoo. His arm was sore, but it wasn’t broken. The tattoo was only a day old. It was of Frog and Toad. He’d always had a thing for frogs, and those books had been a staple of his childhood. He also had a soft spot for them since those two were canonically a gay couple.

            He lied in bed, staring at the ceiling for a few more minutes. He tried to think of everything and nothing at the same time. Somehow everything was going on all at once yet there was nothing, nothing at all.

            Julius’ phone alarm went off. He picked up his phone and stared blankly at it before pressing the “X” button. He stared blankly at the wall, noticing the calendar. It was shot day. He grabbed his vials, needles, syringes, and needle disposal container. He pinched his belly fat and gave himself his testosterone shot. He put the used needles in the container and threw out the syringe and wrapping papers.

            He walked over to the kitchen, still in his pajamas. He stared at his section of his dorm kitchen and pantry.

            Empty.

            “I really do need to go grocery shopping,” he remarked. He’d been feeling dizzy a lot lately. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, he just kept forgetting. ADHD could be difficult like that. He checked phone again.

            It’s Sunday.

            He blinked.

            I should go to bed.

            “No, you need to go shopping,” he counter-protested. “If you go back to bed you’ll go back to having dreams about your ex.”

            He took a shower, got dressed, and then headed out to the campus coffee shop. He ordered himself breakfast, and ate quietly, staring into the distance. He often felt preoccupied like that.

            He went back into his dorm and grabbed all his grocery bags. He headed out to the bus stop without a coat. It was raining and he barely noticed.

            I’m having a weird day, he noted.

            “Yeah,” he admitted. “Yeah, you are.”

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