I'm Friends with Mr. Breezy

Getting to Know You

There was an attempt to make the trip quick and silent. But girl, the winds don’t know how to rest. Being around Mr. Breezy was an experience full of rustling leaves, whistling tunes, and chilly air. Our stroll around the town seemed slow, and surprisingly, Mr. Breezy didn’t even speak during the entirety of that, which made things even slower. There was the occasional exchange of looks as we both settle in with the awkwardness- seemed like he’s relying the work on me on how a friendship starts and thrives, but I know very well I can’t be trusted in that department.

It’s not like I haven’t had friends before, we even had a group back in junior high. There’s just a pattern that exists between me and my so-called friends. They don’t tend to stick around- only enthusiastic about the whole friendship thing for a week or something. The person I was friends with the longest was there for 5 months, before he moved out of the island and so, stopped talking with me ultimately. For Mr. Breezy, I reckon that we will have a day or two worth of conversation- tops before he leaves to find amusement in a much better place.

It took my whole nerves to endure the not-so-comforting walk home, but of course, we still made it an hour before the sunset, judging from where the sun is now. As I was unlocking the door, which is just a gate made out of grills, I happened to blurt out a joke.

“You know, you could pass through our gate, you being air and all,” I suggested, though I forgot to put on a smile- supposedly what you do when trying to be funny. Yet, despite my lack of warm reception, he did let out a giggle.

“Actually, I was waiting for you to open it. Breaking into humans’ homes, that’s not how I fly,” he said politely. Strange- not saying that I’d run into others’ houses if I was a wind spirit, just assumed that if one was capable, why not?

After the gate, I twisted the knob of our main door and went in. Once I got in, Mr. Breezy clumped and flew in as a cloud. A perk of being him might be not having to walk from place to place. He could’ve done it earlier in our trip though, yet he did all steps home by my side.

I closed us in and opened the lights. Then, it was straight to our sofa. I called on Mr. breezy and pointed on the couch across, but he seemed uninterested. Instead, he looked around, scanning our living room as if he was a robot looking for something to terminate.

“Is something wrong with our house?” I asked, him keeping his eyes around. “I‘ve always pictured human homes to be cleaner. I mean, I‘ve seen the inside of others being a lot less… covered with dirt.”

“Dirt?” I stood up and searched. There wasn’t any dirt, just the usual set-up. Used clothes on the couch, unwashed plates on the sink- my shoes and socks on the rag with capitalized letters spelled “WELCOME”. The tiles do look like they’ve been covered with powdered chocolate- may need a little sweep later, but other than that, there’s no dirt to be found.

“I think you meant junk, Mr. breezy.” I gushed.

“Oh, junk! Yeah, I’ve heard that word. So, why is your room full of garbage?” He said, his words might seem to offend, but his face is straight. He really is clueless about people. I began to chuckle.

“Okay, one, this is not my room. My room is upstairs. Second, people say junk to describe a mess or something, not necessarily garbage.” I explained. He then pouted his so-called lips and sat down on the couch. I opened the television and put it on a channel about product selling. Not interested, but the background noise is somewhat therapeutic. Still not sure how to act now, with someone in my house. What do friends do again when they invite someone over?

“You want to eat or drink some-“, I stopped at the realization. “Never mind. Wind spirits don’t eat food, right?” I tapped my head. Wasn’t it obvious enough?

“Actually, I can pretend to eat it if you’re going to offer something.” I looked up at him. He seemed approachable.

“Yeah? Then what would you do with the food? Just let it pass through you?” I joked, this time, with a smile.

“Yes. Later though. When no one’s looking.” He said blankly. Out of irony, I coughed a laugh. The kind you do when you’re seeing something just unbelievable. He seemed more innocent than a five-year-old.

“Yeah, you can do that. But in that case, I‘m not gonna offer you refreshments today. Maybe next time. The people of this house are very stern when it comes to wasting food, especially my mom.” I nodded repeatedly. There really was this time when she’d made me pick every grain of rice that fell out of my plate. The ones on the table, she made me eat them, one by one.

I began to relax on my back. The winds then whistled, getting my attention to Mr. breezy. If I pointed him to the couch earlier with my finger, then I guess he can whistle to call me out, like a pet dog. I asked him what was up- he has something in his mind.

“To let you know, there is only one wind spirit.” He said. Questions arose in my lore-seeking brain. I have this mode that I kind of activate whenever I read a story, especially in fiction. After all, questions are the way to find answers.

“How about the other elements? Is there a fire spirit?” I raised my brow.

“Not someone I know of, no.” He answered.

“So, how many spirits are there? And if there’s only one of you, how can you manage the whole world? I mean, you do have a task or something, right? Can you teleport to other countries in a flash?”

“Hold your horses Aliyanah, or however that phrase goes. Anyway, I don’t know anything about this teleport thing but I think I get your point,” He uttered. His vocabulary is surprisingly human for a spirit.

“Being a wind spirit doesn’t mean you are bound to a task for the world. Just because I command the winds doesn’t mean I have to control them,” he explained. “When out of my hold, their directions and movement are determined by the heat, which means all the time, since we move from places to places to control the weather.”

“We?” I repeated.

“Yes, there is a spirit other than me. She can command the waves. Together, we follow our empress.”

My eyes widened. Is this really what it’s like to receive information reveals? My reader-writer mi9nd can’t handle it.

I was preparing to gather up my next question, but before I can open my mouth, the winds closed them. It was tickling.

“Before me, maybe you can tell me things about yourself? Like, what was so important with the papers you dropped into that peculiar box?” He commented. He’s right, I am getting overhyped by his identity, but I’m not sure there is something interesting about what I do. Speaking of that, I do have to check my email account, just in case my online submission did pass through. I jumped off the sofa and stepped on the stairs. Almost forgot Mr. Breezy. If he does want to know more about me, maybe I could invite him over to my room. It’ll be like a sleepover that I happened to experience once in this lifetime.

I called on him and went upstairs. I grabbed the laptop from my desk and threw a pillow on my lap. No time for changing, and might not be a good idea with a Mr. Breezy around.

“So, this is my room. Go on and sit wherever you want. Do you want a pillow?” I offered, but he forwarded his hand. He then settled in a crossed legs position while floating in the air, like in silly Indian-style.

I opened my lappy and waited. “You told me you wanted to know why this whole writing business is important for me,” I said, clicking the browser icon and typing in my account. I foraged through the junk mails, looking for a reply. Eventually, I was at the end of the newly received emails. There was nothing from the company.

“You see Mr. Breezy, that envelope was my way out of the island,” I uttered. I’m saddened, but only by a tiny bit. I did mail my work traditionally, so there is still a chance. I sighed then was determined.

“In a human’s world, being able to earn money is very important. But for people like me, doing what you want and actually living off of it is a dream come true. I write stories that other people would hopefully like, and in that way, it makes me happy. What was in the envelope was an opportunity for me to earn something while doing what I love. There are people in what we call a ”

Mr. Breezy hummed. Not humming a tune, but humming a coming question. “I’m in awe that humans are willing to pay for entertainment, and if that’s the case, have you received such handouts from others?”

“They’re not called handouts Mr. Breezy,” I chuckled yet immediately pulled back. “Truth be told, I haven’t shown it to anyone. Just the ones who are in the registry, if they did happen to read my story.”

I watched Mr. Breezy’s cloud eyebrows crossing together. He had the right reaction to what I said.

“Wait, tell me if I‘m getting it right. You wanted to earn a living by showing what you write to other people, right? And yes, I am aware that you humans seem to overcomplicate all of these things, but isn’t it contradictory for you to desire for others to like your work if you haven’t even shown them that?” He blurted.

“I know, I know, but I’m kind of expecting people to read it once my works are published, or in the case of my screenplay, when it has been greenlit and watched by many,” I reasoned.

“But what if they didn’t?” He asked. I squinted, asking him to repeat.

“What if they didn’t do what was supposed to happen with your work? What will happen if other people didn’t get a chance to read or watch what you do? Wouldn’t it be better of a result if there’re people who already knew what you intend to share?”

I was silenced. I’ve always known how fragile of a mindset it really was, but I’ve always tried to be positive. It’s only now that someone said it straight to me. But I do have a reason why I don’t intend to share.

“You’re right, it is better to tell my stories to an audience, but what do you do when no one’s around to listen. I don’t even have a friend.” I exclaimed.

“Then what do you think of the spirit in front of you?” Mr. Breezy floated down and looked me in the eye.

“I meant a human friend.” I blurted.

“Well, a human friend or not, just know that I could listen if you want me to. It has been a long time since I could focus my mind on only what I wanted to hear.” He gave me a smile. For a second, things kind of make sense. Until I was reminded by the supernatural. Mr. Breezy’s amulet glowed, and he seemed to be bothered by it.

“I have to go. My empress needs me.” He nodded then proceeded to stand. Or float since he’s just a cloudy mass.

“So, what’s the orb in your chest for?” I asked.

“Nothing in particular. So, where can I meet you tomorrow?”

“We’re still hanging out tomorrow?” I reacted.

“Of course, as long as I’m around your island, we’ll be hanging out.” He said. But, tonight did prove to be interesting for both of us. “Sure, sure. You know the huge building called Kalinga Colleges? The one near the bridge where… the one near the river.” I squeezed my temple. Weird to think all these happened today.

“Alright. Stay cool, Aliyanah, or however that phrase goes.” He stared off to space a second, then waved goodbye. His demeanor is aligned with my humor. Chuckling, I opened the windows for him to leave.

He materialized into something that resembled the clouds in the orange sky. I watched him go off before going back to my laptop. Just then, I received a message from Mom. She won’t be home early tonight. She said there was a situation involving a child and a firecracker. If I want to sleep tonight, wouldn’t want to think about that.

I changed my clothes and put on my pajamas. Coincidentally, they’re color blue filled with patterns of stars and clouds. It’s like I’m wearing the night sky. It really made me think of Mr. breezy. I guess I have a friend again, even with the one who almost killed yet saved my life. He is easy to talk to, despite his vocabulary being all over the place. He must’ve heard those words from around the world.

Mr. Breezy also didn’t fit into my expectation. He isn’t some all-knowing spirit that had wisdom written all over his form and his outlook. He seemed chill, not some creep I thought he was. A little too innocent though, like it was easy for him to believe what he hears, or in the case where someone can see him, it seems easy for him to believe what he’s told.

I should sleep. School isn’t early but I want to wait for a reply email again, which I’d do at 4 or 5 am. Besides, my body deserves the rest after plummeting a hundred meters down and walking 3 kilometers long. A pretty occupied day if I do say so myself.