The Heat

The heat was oppressive these last two days. In the house it was unnoticeable, the rooms cooled by the central air conditioning system. But something was off, you could tell. The house felt unnaturally cold and the windows were all shut, preventing the usual noises of summer from entering. The sounds of birds and passing cars that floated and rolled in on the gentle breeze were muted. There was one new sound however, the drone of the machine that worked tirelessly and without thanks to create the cold and foreign air. All too similar of course, to the furnace that strained throughout the winter to do the exact opposite, fight the cold air as it attempted to gain entry. The furnace sang proudly though, it seemed to know how critical its work was. Preventing the home from being an uninhabitable, frozen wasteland. The air conditioner took on a different tone. It moaned and complained as if asking, why am I working in this heat when you really could survive without me?

When exiting the safety of your house, the heat rushes at you. First, at your face, watering your eyes and making you blink. Is this really real? Then it envelops the rest of your body, rushing over you like a wave. It was the kind of heat that made you begin to sweat on the walk from the front stoop to the car. And then the dreaded car. It was like your vehicle was collecting the sun to save for winter. There is nothing to do. You have to grit your teeth as beads of sweat form on your brow and your hands burn from touching the steering wheel. Instantly slamming your fingers into the window triggers to shoot them down or is it better to go straight to the AC? And you did and for a horrid minute hot air descended on full blast until the engine warmed and the air gradually began to blow cold. 

Why does such heat create haze? There is surely a scientific reason. Something to do with high and low pressure systems, heat domes and such. It’s most visible while looking at the lake. It gives a barely visible, grainy quality to the view, like there was something on the lens and you tried to rub it off to moderate success. 

The surface of the water is coated in stuff. Pollen mostly, hopefully. It’s murky too. The last rain probably stirred it up, churning the silt, mud, and dirt into a translucent brown milkshake. There are worse things in this world than whatever is in the lake, right? It is safer too. Safer than the swimming holes, still swelled from springtime rain, where a kid your age just drowned. Safer too than the ocean. Montauk, where your grandmother lives, where swift currents will rip you out to sea. No matter how strong of a swimmer you are, they will always win. The lake is your shield. It protects you from the midday heat, lowering your internal temperature. Submerged up to your neck looking straight ahead is best. If you lay on your back, your face gets too hot and you have to dive deep under the surface where it’s almost cold. Then you pause for a moment to float back up to the top, just to do it all again. Your lake shield protects you as you climb onto a rock. The heat and the sun and the air wrap around in snake like tendrils. It is ethereal. Beads of water cool your skin as the heat tries to steal them from you. And, for just a moment, all in the world is good again.