Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Another piece to the story

Michael looked around the living room. It was amazing how full the house had become. After his brother had left for Saudi Arabia, the entire family had seemed to migrate to his mom’s house. His brother’s wife Lauren and four-year-old son Eddie had come back from the base he was stationed at in North Carolina. His sister Anne had even come from Phoenix to stay for a while. It was early evening and the family had sat down in their chairs to enjoy a small dinner when the news came on. Top story, the war in Kuwait.

Michael looked at everyone else’s faces. They were all fixed coldly on the television. Suddenly but silently, he began to see tears streaming down his mother’s face. She jumped up and made a run for the front door, mumbling an apology on the way. Lauren stood up and looked at the rest of us.

“I’ll go talk to her,” she said and she made her way to the door. Michael looked over at Anne, who was looking back at him, then down at little Eddie. Eddie had seemed to be somewhat impervious to what had just happened in the room, and amazingly even more impervious to the story that was being shown on the news at the moment. He looked back to Anne, who was now looking over at the door. She got out of her chair and walked over to it. After peeking an eye through the small lens on the door, she looked back over at Michael.

“I think they’re both crying out there.” Michael knew exactly where this was going to end up, and begged in his mind for her not to open the door. She reached down for the handle, opened the door, and stepped out. Michael stood up and walked over to where Eddie was sitting.

“Hey Eddie, I’m going to go outside for a minute, okay? Here, I’ll put something better on TV for you.” He reached over and grabbed the remote from where his mother had been sitting and changed the channel to the Simpsons.

“I’ll be right back, okay? I’ll be right outside.”

Michael opened up the front door and saw the three ladies huddled together just outside, every one of them crying. He walked over and took all three into a big hug.

“He’s going to be alright,” Michael told the group. “Don’t worry. He’s going to be alright.” He never truly ever believed those words that he spoke to them every day. He was just as afraid that they were that his brother would be sent back to him in a casket. He had decided long ago, though, that he could not let any of them know that. He was now the man of the family. He had taken the role of the pillar of the family, the one that had to be strong no matter what. When everyone else cried, he bit his tears back. When everyone else laid their worries out in front of them, he shoved his deep down inside him, laying out nothing more than reassurances that, in the end, everything was going to be alright.

And yet another

Michael entered Mr. Andrews’ history class with the usual uneasiness. This class had quickly become his least favorite. His teacher for this class had also been his brother’s history teacher. And every day, the teacher wanted an update on how Michael’s brother was doing. “Have you heard from your brother, Michael?” “How is your brother doing, Michael?” It was a pain Michael had to endure every day. It was so strong that Michael started to despise Mr. Andrews himself. Michael had completely given up on the class. He never did any more of the homework, and didn’t put any effort into the tests. He simply did not care any more.

Michael sat down in his seat just as Mr. Andrews entered the classroom. Mr. Andrews looked down at him and Michael braced himself for the question. However, instead of asking Michael about his brother, Mr. Andrews simply handed Michael a notice from the school office. “The guidance counselor wants to see you, Michael.”

‘Great,’ thought Michael. More reasons to hate Mr. Andrews. Mr. Andrews probably ratted him out. Michael slowly slid back out of his desk and wandered down the hallway towards the school office.

Michael entered the counselor’s office and saw a heavy-set woman sitting behind a desk, facing away from the door. She looked up from the papers on her desk and motioned him to enter the room, then reached a hand out behind her and shut the door. Her eyes maintained fixed on Michael as he walked around the desk and sat down on the other side.

“Mr. Andrews has told me that you’re starting to do pretty bad in his class.”

“Yeah,” Michael replied, staring down at the desk. All he wanted to do was to leave, and he figured that, the shorter his replies, the faster it would all be over.

“But this isn’t like you, Michael. Look at your grades from last year, from last semester even. The lowest grade you have here is a B. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Michael lied. “Maybe I’m not the great student everyone thinks I am.” Now Michael was starting to get frustrated. He really just wanted to be left alone. So what if he’s failing the stupid history class?

“Mr. Andrews told me that your brother is in Kuwait.”

Michael looked up at her for a moment then broke down. Every worry about his brother, every weak block in the wall he had built to contain his fears, the pressure from trying to hold his home together, burst violently. He felt safe. There was no family to hurt here, nobody to judge him. Everything he had hidden away inside him exploded out in a flood of tears.

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

My story

It was a warm June day. Michael took a small break from his game of tag with his friends to get some chips and a hot dog from the picnic table. He shyly took a glimpse at the party around him. Most of the kids there were foreign to him, kids of his mom’s coworkers. This was the first of his mom’s annual barbecues, or so her boss had told the office. Seeing how most of the office lived in a town about twenty miles away from where Michael and his mom lived, they found a nice park there, a place Michael had never been to. He felt very out of place, and very shy. He only knew two of the other kids there, one of whom he was in class with the prior year in seventh grade. He had just put a potato chip in his mouth when he felt someone punch him on the back of his shoulder.

“Tag! You’re it!”

Michael jerked his head around to see his friend Danny dart off towards the playground. Michael smiled and chased off after him. They dodged around the play set, zigzagged through the swing set, and raced onto the tennis courts. Danny pulled a nice slingshot around the gate to get out of the tennis courts, with Michael right behind him. Michael reached out a hand to tag Danny on the back then suddenly lost his footing as his shoes left the friction of the tennis court and hit the soft dirt immediately outside. In one smooth motion, his feet kicked out behind him and his arms flung out in front of him, perfect form for a dirt belly flop. He hit the ground hard and lay there for a moment. Finally, with a wince, he rolled over on to his back.

Hovering over Michael was a young girl about his age. He had never seen her before, but this didn’t come as that much of a shock to him. What did come as a shock to him, though, was how pretty she was. Her long brown hair and her big brown eyes instantly took him in and he found himself at a complete loss for words. She just smiled and reached out a hand to him.

“Are you alright,” she asked as she helped him to his feet.

“Yeah,” he replied. It was one of the biggest lies he had ever told. The truth was, he was in quite a lot of pain. He didn’t want her to know it, though. “Umm, my name is Michael”

“Hi.” She smiled at him again. “I’m Angie.”

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Michael stepped through the front door of his house and took a quick look at the clock. He still had ten minutes before his curfew. He looked over at his mom, who was sitting on the couch. She too looked momentarily up at the clock then shot him a flat look.

“Your dad called while you were gone,” she told him. Michael’s heart sank fast. He hadn’t talked to his dad for years. Quietly, he walked over to the small rocker and sat down. He couldn’t even remember how long it had been. He was now sixteen years old with only one faint memory of his dad’s voice. He just sat and stared through the television. His mom spoke up again.

“He has a job in the next town over. He said he’s going to be there for a month.” Michael perked up in his chair.

“Really?” he exclaimed. “Can we go see him?”

“No,” she replied, “He’s very busy with his work.”

Disappointed but still excited to know his dad was so nearby, Michael spent the rest of the night with eagerness of finally being able to meet his father.

Days passed and he hadn’t heard anything more from his mom about his father. He had completely put his life on hold, had stayed home after school every day, had jumped with excitement every time the phone had rung.

Friday night, he was sitting in front of the television when his mom came out of her bedroom dressed up to go out for the evening. She appeared somewhat shocked, as if she hadn’t expected him to be at home in the living room. With sad eyes, she looked down at him.

“I’m sorry, hon. He’s just not ready to meet you yet.”

Michael jumped up and ran to his bedroom. He buried his head in his pillow and cried himself to sleep.

He was awoken by a knock on his bedroom door. He crawled out of his bed and opened it. Standing on the other side of it was his mother, with a big smile on her face.

“I had a long talk with your dad last night and he wants us to come over today. Both of us.”

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“Where are we going,” he asked her.

“Be patient, Michael. We’re almost there.” Michael looked around but didn’t see any hotels, didn’t see any restaurants. He and his mom had been through this part of the town before, and it had always made him somewhat uncomfortable. He never felt safe here, in a very beat-down neighborhood. His mom slowed down and he looked over to see the left arrow flashing on the dashboard. He looked over to see where his mom was taking him and saw a big ‘Silver Bullet’ sign above a building with numerous neon lights in the window. The parking lot was relatively empty, save two or three cars. His mom pulled in the parking lot and took a spot near the door. The two got out of the car and made their way into the bar.

Michael’s mom walked up to a man who was facing away, sitting on a bar stool, playing one of the bar trivia games. The stranger looked up at her with a smile, a short ‘hello’, and a peck on the lips.

“Ray, this is Michael.” The stranger at the bar swiveled his chair around, and without standing up, held out his hand.

“Hello there.”

Out of pure politeness, Michael shook the hand. Michael knew everything was wrong. This isn’t how he was supposed to meet his dad. His dad was supposed to come to him. His dad was supposed to make an effort to love his son. His dad was supposed to be a dad. Ray motioned Michael to have a seat next to him, then ordered Michael a soda and himself another beer. When the drinks came, Ray paid for them and asked for coins as part of his change. He then turned away from Michael back toward the trivia game he had been playing earlier and slid some coins into it. He punched at the screen for a while, then tapped Michael on the shoulder.

“Look at this, son.” Michael glanced over his father’s shoulder and looked at the screen of the game. Flashing at the top of the high scores list was a place to enter in new initials. Michael’s eyes wandered to the rest of the high scores on the list. Every one of them, from top to bottom, had the initials R.A.Y. Ray shot a quick smile at Michael and entered in M.I.K. as the new top scoring initials.

Ray looked up at the clock above the bar.

“Shit,” he exclaimed, “I really have to get going.” He jumped to his feet. “It was great meeting you, son.”

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“Michael, your dad is trying.”

“What, meeting me in a dingy bar and trying make up for sixteen years of neglect by putting my name in the number one spot of a stupid video game? Getting drunk while he meets his son for the very first time in his life? Not talking to me once for the two years since? What, is that him trying?”

Michael’s mom glared at him with a look that could have pierced iron.

“Get out.”

“What?” he asked. “I don’t have any where to go.”

“I don’t care. Get out.”

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“Listen. My mom, today I talked to her on the phone. She’s coming from California tomorrow to pick us up. We’re going to take Nathan with us.” She stared at Michael for a moment before continuing. “I think you know what this means.”

“Yeah,” Michael replied. He looked over at Steve, who kept his eyes focused on the floor, then looked back up at Sarah. He had no idea what to do. Steve and Sarah were his only people he knew who would take him in.

“You have a choice,” Sarah continued. “You can either come with us to California or you can stay here. You just can’t tell anyone where we went, either way”

‘Some choice,’ thought Michael. If it weren’t for Steve and Sarah, he would be living on the streets right now. If they left without him, he knew that’s where he would be tomorrow. “I want to go.”

“Okay. We’re going to be leaving late tomorrow night.” She and Steve left the room. Michael walked over to the phone and picked it up. After staring at it for a minute, he punched in the familiar phone number. After two rings a soft voice answered the other end.

“Hey, Angie? It’s Michael. Hey, let’s go out tonight. Let’s go see a movie.”

Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I just want to get away from here for a little while and give Steve and Sarah a bit of personal time.” After a few minutes on the phone, the plans for the evening were set.

Soon, he and Angie were sitting in a dark theater. Although it had been a movie Michael had been looking forward to seeing, he could not focus on it. His life was about to drastically change, and it scared him immensely.

After the movie, Angie and Michael made their way back to Sarah and Steve’s house. As they got nearer, Michael began to fall into a fast depression. What should he do? Should he tell her that he was about to leave? He didn’t have to say where he was going. No, he decided, he couldn’t tell her.

The car pulled up in front of the house. Michael leaned over to kiss Angie good night, but she stopped him halfway and stared at him for a moment.

“You’re crying,” she pointed out. Michael retreated back into his seat and put his head in his hands. He started to cry more.

“Are you alright,” she asked.

“It’s my family,” he told her, “I miss my family.” Michael didn’t want to lie to her, and lying only made him cry a little harder. He kept his face in his hands and tried to stop his tears. He couldn’t though. He hated himself for what he couldn’t be for her. He hated himself for how much he knew he was about to hurt her. He hated his life, every part of it. Almost. He pulled his head out of his hands and looked up at Angie with teary eyes.

“I love you,” he whispered to her.

Saturday, January 20, 2007

A little random BS

So today I was waiting for my bus at the bus stop. Also there was a couple, but they appeared to be having a little bit of a fight. The girl was lying on a granite slab behind the bus stop and the guy was smoking a cigarette near the street. Normally these things don't really catch my attention, and to be honest with you, this one didn't at first. But then, the guy walked around to where the girl was lying down and I heard him say, "You can stay here if you want. I'm going home." And walked around to the front and sat down. A couple of minutes later, she came around to the front, too. He told her to have a seat, which she didn't at first. Then he reached forward and grabbed her ass and pulled her toward him. The way she acted when he did that was really sad. She looked away from him (in my general direction) and looked like she was about to cry. She ended up sitting down on the man's thigh and just stared at the ground from then until they got on their bus.

I know that I have no idea what the whole story is, but my take on it is really pretty sad. She really seemed to not like any of the treatment she was being handed by the guy, yet she would not walk away. I've actually seen this quite a few times. I've seen guys treat their girlfriends like crap, even break up with the ladies, but the ladies would crawl back for more. It's always really hard for me to see.

Yes, I understand the concept of love, and that some people can truly and wholeheartedly love people who don't necessarily return the feeling. It's happened to me a few times before, actually, and in both directions. What I don't understand is the person on the other end of it. In this case, if the guy loves her back, why treat her like that? And if he doesn't, why lead her on and let her love him? In that situation, most people would probably call the girl pathetic. They would say that she's weak, that she can't let go. No. She's not the pathetic one. He is. He's the one who can't let go to someone who he doesn't show love for. He's the weak one. He needs someone, and he'll never know why.