Wolfy Chai

It was a particularly cold and damp night for South Florida. The wind whirled around the palms, leaves blew across the street, and there was a slight trickle of rain that sprinkled on his face. Whose face? James Stanley: a man of 29 years of age. He had black hair, tan skin, and dark eyes that camouflaged him against the night sky, almost as if he didn’t exist at all.

He was watching the black waves crash into the pier, shattering on the pilings below, catching the faint amber glow of the pier’s floodlights. He thought the ocean would be relaxing. At least that is how all the people who had been used to refer to it. But every time the waves made impact, it felt like a slap in his face—instead of being elated or joyful, it just made him feel hollow, empty, and depressed.

As he sat there staring at the water, he started to get hypnotized, breathing in the wet, salty air, seeing the sloshing water, hearing the crashing waves. His shoulders sunk as if in response to the rain soaking his jacket, making it heavy and filling it with water.

James started to remember where he came from. How he came to be there that night. What it really meant. What everything meant. He began seeing himself growing up. His best friend Aaron, whom he had made at school.

He remembered vividly sitting in class during a middle school geography lesson. They were supposed to label the oceans on a blank map for their assignment. On his map next to Florida, James had written “Pacific Ocean.” It became time to answer the questions. James raised his hand for this one, excited that he remembered one of the names very clearly. He shouted out, “Pacific, Pacific!” but was sorely wrong.

He felt his soul leave his body as the entire class became silent. The teacher said it actually was the Atlantic. People in the class mocked him in disbelief, remarking, “How does he not know what the ocean 15 minutes away is called?” One person asked him directly, “How are you that stupid?” James replied with great hesitation, “I have never seen the ocean before.” The students’ mouths dropped open; no one could believe it. Unfortunately, he was the only one in the class at the time who admitted to that.

He recalled other kids going to the ocean. He heard them talk about surfing, building sandcastles, or going to summer camps near the beach. But he didn’t know what any of that was. To him, they were in a different world. At this moment, he felt completely empty inside—invisible, unimportant, useless.

In an effort to fit in, James replied to the kids, “But, but, I did get a free soda before at the corner store from all the bottle caps I had collected from the dumpsters!” trying his best to impress the crowd. They didn’t look amused and were visibly annoyed at how unremarkable his excitement was. His efforts to try to fit in were met with side-eyes, and from then on, he was excluded from being a part of any group.

To make matters worse, the other kids started to notice that he was wearing the same clothes every day. They started to complain and make fun of the fact that he didn’t seem to want to change his clothes. He also sometimes started to smell if he wasn’t able to access a shower that week.

Aaron Atkins, a boy from the middle-class caste, was the only person willing to be James’s friend. He started inviting James to eat lunch with him. Aaron always brought a neatly packed lunchbox filled with an assortment of foods to choose from; every day it was something a little different. Each day his mom would pack him a homemade dessert—either cookies, brownies, or cake pops.

James resorted to getting the free lunch at the school cafeteria. It was his only meal for the day. On Tuesdays, his favorite cafeteria lady, Deborah, often slipped him an extra roll of bread. Once he finished eating, he started licking the grease off his Styrofoam plate. Aaron, shocked at this display of desperation, willingly offered him his Oreo cake pop that his mom had packed that day. In the future, Aaron would sneak James an extra bit of food for him to take home.

Unfortunately, they graduated 8th grade, and Aaron and James went their separate ways. Aaron was sent to a private prep school in the next town over. The two would not see each other for years.

James did not have the best upbringing. His father, Bruce, often gave his mom black eyes, bruises, and broken bones. It wasn’t long before he started to do the same to James. When he was five, Bruce began to sexually molest James, eventually raping him at age seven. He was to never say a word. When he was ten, his father left, and he never returned. James began turning to alcohol to numb the pain.

After his father had left, things started to fall apart even more. The family had no income and ended up living on the street for a year. When he was eleven years old, he became a ward of the state after his mother overdosed on heroin. She was found face down, lying under the bench at a local park—unfortunately, by James himself. But all of that isn’t supposed to matter anymore, right? We are all on the same playing field. “Pull yourself up by your bootstraps”—he heard that constantly.

After years apart, in their twenties, Aaron and James finally met again when they shared a class together at the University of Miami. The students were busy talking in a group about what they had done that summer. Amy went on a cruise to Alaska and a trip to Japan, Jeff went on a backpacking trip around Asia, and Mindy flew on her daddy’s private jet around the world, splitting her time between a private island in the Maldives and partying in Mykonos.

Amy remarked that the food on the cruise line was not high quality and that they didn’t even offer organic juice at breakfast. Jeff complained that the hotel he was staying at refused to bring his bags up the stairs. Mindy chimed in, noting that she wasn’t very impressed by the party scene and preferred Ibiza instead.

Aaron was far more silent than usual. He wasn’t used to being the odd one out. His family had money, but they weren’t “wealthy”; they were more or less “comfortable.” He never had to worry about food or having a house. Budgeting was mostly optional. He did have the privilege of living in off-campus housing, but not in one of the nice complexes with lazy rivers and waterslides like his classmates. He had to take out loans to go to college, but he also did not have to work at the same time since his parents covered all his living expenses.

He felt himself getting jealous of the others—at how casually they spoke about their travels. After all, he had only been to Europe once, and it was a week-long trip for his graduation. It seemed that international travel for the others was as common as breathing.

All of a sudden, he felt the urge to say something. Before he knew it, he blurted out, “Must be nice,” to the group. They all glanced at him for a second before silently agreeing that Aaron would not be an eligible member of their friend group. They wanted to talk about their international trips, new cars, or success unimpeded and without any guilt. They were so accustomed to wowing the crowd with their travel stories or successes and weren’t used to anyone who could be anything less than amazed. To be blunt, the attention had to be on them. They replied in unison, “Don’t be such a Debbie Downer, Aaron,” rolling their eyes with disapproval.

Some time had passed, and before they knew it, they were both in their last year of school. Unbeknownst to them, a global pandemic had broken out. The whole world—so they thought—went into lockdown. Still, when they came back after winter break, the same rich kids somehow managed to do something while everyone else was trapped between four blank walls. Aaron was furious.

Apparently, they had the best time going on their parents’ 250-ft mega-yacht, cruising through the Caribbean and traveling to private islands on their private jets.

While everyone else was suffering, they were playing with their water toys—four-story waterslides, jet skis, hoverboards, and paramotors—in international waters.

While Aaron was fixated on his jealousy, James, on the other hand, had gotten really sick after getting the vaccine that was supposed to prevent you from catching the pandemic. To this day, he is not the same. Regardless of his illness, he was determined to adhere to his virtues that were so important to him. Despite the fact that he had to follow an extremely limited diet, he still chose to remain vegan. Additionally, even though it required more effort, he did everything he could to live a zero-waste lifestyle. He was truly dedicated to making the world a better place—for everyone.

However, Aaron did not get any symptoms at all from the vaccine. As such, he got five boosters, quoting the slogan “safe and effective” each time on his Instagram feed. He rejected the notion that James could have gotten injured from the vaccine. As a result, the two were ripped apart once again. Aaron, who once was a compassionate and caring young boy, saw people who had more than him and became increasingly selfish and like them.

He figured, “I worked so hard to get to where I am; I deserve to treat myself and put myself first. I deserve success.” He did not really care about anyone else anymore who had struggles. He labeled those people as “lazy” or “victims.” In effect, he became too good for them, and their “negativity” was only dragging him down.

Aaron became someone who blamed the system and corporations for all the world’s environmental problems. He figured that he couldn’t do anything himself and that it was out of his control, so he didn’t do anything about it. He bought plastic water bottle cases at the store, used Gain laundry detergent, and did not even bother recycling. He ate fast food all the time, just because he could and it was convenient. Yet, he did not suffer from any notable health conditions.

In the latest leg of his earth exploitation, he was determined to be as untethered to obligations and restrictions as possible. He became a digital nomad, traveling around the globe constantly. He would be in one country one day and another the next. He had no attachments to a place. His primary motivation in life was novelty seeking and hedonism. As soon as one trip was coming to an end, he was already plotting his next adventure.

He lost all resemblance to the compassionate and thoughtful person he used to be. His parents were even proud of the person he had become. At family gatherings, they would all earnestly await his endless strings of travel stories that made his life far more valuable and interesting than anyone else’s. That seemed to be all that he was now able to talk about. He barely mentioned his work anymore because that was just an incidental and logistical matter—a means of acquiring money, a key that granted him access to living the life he had always wanted.

When the economy in his home country started getting bad, he figured he would just live in other countries full-time. He did not care much about national politics, let alone the people in his local community.

James watched all these things happen, peering through the “window” into his life that was social media. He thought at great length about what it all meant. He questioned for a while whether or not he might be missing out on things. Everything looked so fun. So, years later, at 29, this motivated him to find his way to the ocean for the very first time.

After awakening from this daze of delirious reflection, he stared out at the sea with new eyes, realizing that he had found a type of peace and contentment that his friend Aaron would likely never encounter. It was not out of a place of ego or comparison. He just knew that he didn’t need that life he had been longing for anymore. Yes, the ocean was beautiful, the sound magical, the air salty and invigorating. But there was no desire or craving remaining. All there was, was peace.