He looked inside his arm, it was dark red, almost purple at the bottom and higher, a layer of yellowish bubbly fat, and the skin above that, split, spread. It was like there was tension there to start with and he released it, put a run in a stocking. He got up and walked to the sink. He sighed and turned on the water. His arm began to bleed. The stitch was a running stitch, meaning it was completely under the skin except at the points of entry and exit at the far ends of the cut. The skin looked grey when it was being stitched, or at least he thought. It had all puffed up, not swollen, but seemed to push out. It reminded him of disgusting pornstar vagina, he had to look away.
It hadn't hurt at all. All he felt was a cool breath. It was amazing, like he opened a window in a moving car, a window in his flesh. It didn't hit the bone, not even the muscle, but he could see it, through a layer that covers the muscle. All the power of his body came from something he could now see, he imagined seeing his heart, and thought it would probably look much messier. Not as beautiful. But this isn't really about the muscle, or the arm.
He cut himself with a sword, to draw blood, to baptize it in a way. And he thought that would sound so stupid, so nerdy, all that...but once you see inside your body you realize there is so much to it. And even though the sword wasn't baptized in blood, not a drop had touched it; it was pulled through flesh. Baptism enough. But this isn't about the baptism or the sword.
It was one of his best friend's and his girlfriend's birthday. He had set down the sword and said,
"I just cut my arm so bad." Someone replied,
"It's not even bleeding."
"I know..." He'd gotten help from his friend. They bandaged it with gauze and tape. He came home the next morning and told his parents and called his girlfriend and she came up in her pajamas because it was still early. Her worry was apparent. He took the bandage off, his mom thought she was going to faint. It had already reached the grey color by then. His girlfriend called her mom, a nurse, and she came up to his house. She called him an idiot and told him to get stitches immediately.
He was in the shower, attempting to wash his wound without soap and without direct water. He couldn't put it under the water, he felt dull pains in it under the streams. He marveled at it, he imagined the scar. How large the scar would be if only he could keep it. Now he had a small scar, the width of the metal band on the wheel of a cigarette lighter. But this isn't about the scar.
She was short with light blonde hair. She danced ballet. He loved her very much. She loved him very much. He'd cheated on her a week before with a woman, not a girl, a woman seven years older than him. She was short and with dirty blonde hair. She had a degree in fine art. He was still in high school. His girlfriend didn't know this. He wasn't going to tell her. She kissed him before he left to some kind of outpatient clinic for stitches. He lay on the table as the stitches went in, his mom next to him, still ready to pass out. He watched his arm be stitched until of course, that image. But this isn't about the girlfriend, or the other woman, or the stitches or the pornstar vagina.
This is about how the girlfriend left him for her stepbrother and lived in a shitty town in the desert and was happier with the stepbrother than with him.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Monday, October 13, 2008
The Hype and The Life
That day is one I haven't been able to and don't want to forget, the kind of day that begins as normal as any other, but ends up affecting, maybe changing your life; they're not usually the kind of days you can predict or expect, this one took me entirely by surprise. I sat uncomfortably on a bench formed of metal strips that flowed down vertically, curling inward on the back and bottom, a thin, square armrest providing me little or no comfort at all. It was raining, not as hard as it had earlier, but still what I would call a downpour, I however, was dry, smoking a cigarette on that bench with a book, held awkwardly open, in my hand. A bottle of wine stuck out of the folds of my large and mostly empty backpack, I held the bottle against me with the pit of my elbow, occasionally uncorking and drinking from it. I could feel my lips and teeth reddening as they always do when drinking red wine, and also waited patiently for someone to begin to hassle me about the bottle. No one ever did, perhaps, because a greasy haired man-boy, sitting on a bench, chain smoking and reading, is one of the few people allowed to drink wine, in public, in America and only be hassled by police, who were probably wanting to stay dry and warm in their cars anyway. I was running out of wine while debating with myself between paragraphs on pages, whether or not I should go inside and get another bottle, when I felt the weight of a presence close to me. I waited for some older woman to begin chewing me out for my drinking in public, or some old homeless type to ask me for some, but when I looked up, I was completely unprepared for what stood before me.
By her face alone I would have thought she was ten years old, but her height and demeanor told me she was more of an adult; I assumed her actual age was somewhere in between. She wore a long, offwhite, tiered skirt with a black shirt covered by a deep red, cordouroy, blazer-like jacket, she stood with one foot tapping the cement behind her, a pad of yellow paper in her arms. Her hair was so blonde it was nearly white, it fell to her neck, but not quite onto her shoulders. Straight and full, it was nearly iridescant in the dark, overcast world she lived in; her hair and her piercing Hazel eyes stole my attention and would not let go. I'd never seen hair like this, my own seemed like a curse compared to the beauty of that blonde-white sight. It was not overly thick nor thin, she was clearly not even approaching albinoism, which I have seen before and it does not produce these results; but her hair was without doubt sub or super human in nature, the product of some mixture of gold-spun spidersilk and moonbeams, or something equally as impossible.
A sort ex-girlfriend drove me there, from my house where I'd spent time trying to kiss her and had, little kisses of friends who used to be together, though she was dating someone seven years older than her. And when she left, she dropped me off and I was in the rain and wanted to call her when she got home and tell her I wanted her to come get me again and that I wanted to keep kissing her, and it was odd...because she would have, but I didn't call. I sat and read and drank, and now this; and I consider this one of the more odd things to have happened to me, because it takes a lot of courage or excentricity to just approach someone like she did. It's something I rarely do, and only when looking for one or two things. She looked at me, and I at her, it seemed like forever, and just as I felt tension like she was going to run down the walkway and out into the rain and across this city, she spoke.
"Excuse me, are you busy?" She asked with little apprehension. Her voice was young and girlish, but her tone was formal and adult.
"I'm not, what is it?" I replied, closing my book, finger sitting in the fold.
"Well, and I never do this, but my siblings and I are taking a trip to San Diego, to visit my older brother, and you look around his age, and I wanted to ask someone his age who had been there, what I should expect."
"You're in luck, I have been there. Just recently actually."
"Great, may I ask you about it?"
"Sure, go ahead."
"Well, I'd like for my brothers to hear, would you mind sitting inside with us? Our mother is shopping."
"That sounds fine," I replied, taking note of the page I was on and standing slowly. I pushed the bottle into the backpack, noticing her notice it, I smiled and hoisted the bag onto my shoulder. I took a final drag of the cigarette and dropped it, stamping it out with my toe. I motioned for her to lead the way and followed close behind her. She stopped suddenly,
"How rude of me, I'm Laine. And you?" I told her my name and she nodded politely, turning back and leading me inside.
"How many siblings do you have?" I asked, trying to make small talk.
"Four, three brothers and a sister."
"Wow, quite a family, and do you live with your parents?"
"With my mother, my father died six years ago."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"It's no trouble of yours." We turned towards the left after entering the store, and while thinking of what her siblings would look like, I was forcefully shoved into a fantasy of the fourth reich. At a table sat two boys, one with hair even whiter than Laine's, another with somewhat darker, yellow hued hair, with his nose in a book, the other wearing large silver and black headphones. As we approached there was no acknowledgment that we approached.. They sat at a round picnic table made of steel and glass, in patio chairs of the same type. Laine sat down next to the boy reading the book and I sat between her and the headphone wearing one.
"This is my twin brother Ky and my younger brother Tobin." The brothers were nearly the same height, much shorter than Laine, the whiter haired one had a young full face, the darker haired one (which is probably erroneous to call him), had a thinner face, his face looked the oldest of them all. They both looked very different from Laine, even aside from the height, but all retained some quality, even besides the hair, which made them seem like siblings.
"I'm sorry, which is which?" They both paid no attention to us, headphones, drumming against the table lightly with his forefingers and bookworm following the lines with his.
"Don't apologize, you could probably never guess which is actually my twin." She tapped the table and headphones looked up.
"Ky, introduce yourself." He smiled and slid his headphones down onto his neck,
"I was waiting for him to make a move."
"Not very nice of you, you know."
"Don't say that," he looked to me, "Yo, I'm Ky." I was thoroughly surprised and now incredibly interested in this family, he continued to smile as I introduced myself. Staring with his very dark bluish eyes. Asking me afterwards,
"Have you been to San Diego? My brother works for Sony there, he tests video games; he sends me all the ones he likes."
"Very cool," I replied, "sounds like a good setup."
"Yes...cool." He spoke slowly with the faintest hint of sarcasm, almost indetectable. I nearly entered shock, asking myself, who are these kids? Where did they come from?
Laine looked to me,
"You'll have to excuse his behavior, he's very precocious and also a pretensious cynic. And I'm sorry that you'll not get an introduction from this one." Ky laughed throwing his head back as she pointed at Tobin,
"There's not a way, I know, to get him out of something he's reading."
"How old is he?"
"He'll be seven next month. Ky and I also start high school next month, did you like high school very much?"
"I suppose I did, I had a lot of fun."
"That sounds nice, we've never been to a public school. Do you attend the university?"
"I do, last semester closed my third year."
"Do you know professor (I've chosen to omit last names, and you've probably noticed, even my own first name, to protect this family and mine, though I doubt anyone of us need it.)? Have you had any classes with him?"
"I haven't, but I know of him. I hear he's very demanding."
"He is, that is true."
"You know him?"
"Yes, he's tutored our whole family, even my oldest brother since he was Tobin's age." I'm fairly sure, at that point, that my mouth dropped open. This was surely the most amazing thing I'd ever heard outside the realm of fantasy. Before I could begin to ask anything more about the arrangement involving small children and the, apparently, biggest hardass on campus, Laine spoke up again.
"Oh, yes, we're here to ask you about San Diego. My brother lives in Mission Beach, have you been there?" Recovering slowly, I replied that I had, and had liked it very much. I told them about the layout, the twins looked at eachother smiling, excited.
"That sounds wonderful, my brother lives there with our nephew and his girlfriend. I can't wait to be there, they tell us how happy they are whenever they call." I imagined what this older brother was like, undoubtedly a tall blonde, and working as a video game tester...probably thin with a slightly outdated haircut; but undoubtedly a genius as well, as these children seemed to be.
"How old is your brother?" I asked.
"He's twenty-four, he moved to San Diego only a few months ago, but we miss him very much already," she replied.
"Why did he move there?"
"To work for Sony," she replied, and suddenly Ky broke in from across the table, speaking to her more than to me it seemed,
"To be closer to his son actually," turning to me, "his ex-girlfriend moved there without him."
"There is that, too," she said, frowning at her brother.
"I see, does he have that same amazing hair you all have?"
"He did, but at age sixteen it began turning black and curling up. It's more like my mothers now, this hair we have came from my father." She replied, playing a little bit with the ends of her hair. Ky looked directly at me, staring, I thought I could feel the hairs on my neck standing up, it was like static between us, and he spoke,
"I don't want my hair to change."
"Why do you think his did?"
"I think it changed because he lost his way, a lot of people seem to lose their way around that age."
"That's true, I did."
"Really? How?" he asked, showing all the impetuousness of youth. I laughed aloud at this, and thought of the two mornings I always think of when I recall youth. A June morning when I was hardly a teenager and awoke sometime near ten A.M., and played loudly a song that deserved to be played loudly. And as I lay in bed and sang I thought what a great time it was to be alive and how I wanted this feeling of appreciation for the present to last forever, though it passed before I could even realize it. And the second morning, I awoke, it was nearly the same situation, but a friend was sitting in the chair in my room, looking over at me. I knew how close we were, because it was not odd that this person was randomly in my room as I awoke, looking at me, and it needed no explaining, the only thing needed was an idea for what to do with that day, and essentially that life...and I always wonder, if I still live that life.
"What can I say, really, I became wrapped up in some things I shouldn't have."
"Drugs?"
"Not really, but I don't know if I should discuss this with you."
"Don't treat me like a child, I'll make you look bad." He pulled the headphones back onto his ears and broke his gaze with me. I looked to Laine with a slight smile and questioning eyes, "you'll have to forgive my brother...again. He can't be tamed. But would you tell me, how exactly, you lost your way?"
"Eh, I don't know if I should do this."
"You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to."
"I really shouldn't." She then turned away, ever so slightly, almost unnoticably. I could feel, though, her sudden likeness with her brother.
"I wonder where my mother is, we've been waiting for quite a while," she spoke with complete uninterest, though she hid it well, I could tell. It pained me to have treated her that way, it pains me still, but at least I tried to make up for it.
"Well, I became involved with a girl. I became involved in something bigger than myself, bigger than both of us. Bigger than anything I'd been involved with, to this day...it ended up going nowhere, or worse than nowhere. The problem though, was with her. Love, or the illusion of it can make you do crazy things.
"I see, I've never had a romantic relationship but I understand the concept of doing bad things for the person you love."
"It's not that I did bad things, it's...well, high school is a prime time for that kind of behavior. So watch yourself, don't get involved with the wrong people, I guess that's my advice."
"Thankyou, I don't think I need to fear that, I have never known a boy to be attracted to me."
"What? Really? That's surprising." She blushed slightly here, and I realized that something had happened and I was standing on a kind of threshold, I realized, I thought she was very beautiful and attractive. I became somewhat frightened, hoping that some secret desire for a girl of this age was not making it's way through me. I realize now, but did not then, that she was very beautiful and attractive always, and it grew with age.
"Why, thank you." Fully blushing after the reply. I immediately tried to change the subject, but took it only so far.
"Anyway, love is dangerous sometimes. I think I've stopped that though," I laughed a little laugh, a sad laugh actually...Because I hadn't really experienced love in a long time, and it was good and bad, but I was still a little lonely. Why else would I sit on a bench just out of the rain, reading and drinking.
"Have you?" And here, I feel I reacted far too strongly, defensively really, at what I believe was a joke, and regret it even still. Too used to answering this question in such a way, to friends, parents, doctors, all those people, I spoke,
"Yes, I have." And though the words seem simple and harmless, I allowed too much emotion to escape and it was clear, and I feel I made an error. The look on her face was that of one who had just taken a blow, I answered her simple question with nearly a snarl. This time instead of her almost unnoticable turn, she instead continued to stare, as her brother had. And of course, and I attributed it to their twin telepathy, Ky spoke up, headphones still on, looking at me,
"Harsh, she only asked a simple question." I looked over to him, and feeling defeated, back to her.
"I'm sorry," I nearly whispered, crushed under the weight of their intimidating presences. Ky's white locks falling in an arc to his eyes, curling above his ears towards his temples and also under them, wrapping him up in so many curling waves, appearing as seamfoam on the break. Laine's sun-bleached gold falling elegantly, the tips of her ears jutting out from the sides, seemingly showing her youth, and accenting her beauty with elfish features. And the incessant turning of pages from the dirty blonde web of long tangles falling down towards the book Tobin continued to run his finger across.
So wrapped in my shame, my strangely admitted weakness, I didn't notice until she turned, that a hand had come to rest on her arm. When she turned, I did as well, another blonde head of hair, this time tied in pigtails, stood at the height of her elbow. The most yellow of all, canary yellow, whatever that means, and all I can use to describe it, with a cherubs face attached to it, bandaids crossed over the bridge of her nose, peeked from behind her arm.
"Hello, darling, come say hi," she spoke to the child, bringing her into view,
"This is Clarion, my younger sister, youngest of us all. Our golden child."
"Hello, little one, how are you?" And turning to Laine, "does she speak?"
"Never in public, but you can't shut her up at home," Ky spoke, looking at me, then turning his face down to her,
"runt, come give me a hug." She ran around the table to him with a smile from ear to ear, and hugged him tightly. He lifted her up and sat her on his lap. She wore that kind of dress that can make a grown woman seem childish with lace lined socks and shining cherry-red shoes, her hair in short pigtails, as darling as any child I'd ever seen. And had she not been sitting in her brothers lap, the bandaids on her nose would have forced me to believe she was an orphan. My eyes went back to Tobin, still deep in that book.
"What book is your brother reading?"
"Oh, it's one Ky and I gave him," she told me the name, and it hit me like a train, I almost went spinning, tossing my book, backpack flying off my shoulder, bottle of wine falling and breaking as I landed on the floor.
"Why that book?"
"It seems to us like a biography of our family, in some respects."
"I suppose it does."
"Have you read it?" We sat momentarily in silence as I watched him read, my eyes following his fingers, and I dazed off, thinking about this situation, my mouth half open about to respond.
Laine spoke, a greeting, and I looked over, another hand resting on her shoulder; my mind followed my eyes upward, to eyes of a shallow blue and sheets of black hair cascading over shoulders. I knew immediately, through the disparate looks, I knew: This was their mother. She couldn't have been older than 30, but I knew she must have been. She looked at me, with a somewhat questioning look, I could see the gears of protection of her children turning in her mind.
"Hi," I spoke up, smiling wide, attempting to be as non-threatening as possible. Laine shook her head as if waking,
"Oh, mom, this is our new friend. He was just telling us about San Diego?" She smiled back at me,
"Oh, do you know my son, Vaughn?"
"I'm afraid I don't but I was in San Diego last month."
"Very nice, I'm Rhys." I introduced myself and stood to shake her hand as she came around Laine's chair slightly. Her eyes, never seeming to leave mine, though I glanced away several times out of nervousness. Finally, she did break them off, to look at her children.
"Well, everyone, I'm through shopping are you ready to go?" The children stood, Ky sliding Clarion to the floor, and even Tobin, still reading the book, stood.
"It was very nice to meet all of you, I hope we can again in the future," I spoke somewhat awkwardly.
"It was nice to meet you as well, thankyou for all the information, and I too hope we can meet again in the future," Laine spoke shaking my hand, "farewell." I watched them exit, Ky hand in hand with Clarion turned and wave, and then stopped and help her wave too. She giggled and tried to run, pulling weakly though with all her might at Ky's arm. Rhys walked out slowly, herding Tobin, her hand on his head, steering him away from objects,
"Goodbye, it was nice to meet you," she spoke.
"You too, bye." I said, watching them all dissapearing out the sliding doors, Laine last, behind her mother, her eyes against mine, smiling until she crossed the threshold and dissapeard from sight. I stood for a moment, in shock. It felt, to me, like a powerful and unknown force, something spooky almost, resided there; but it was also that kind of realization, feeling a presence watching you or bearing down on you, at first it scares you, puts that nervous fear that can only come from the unknown into you, but you then realize it's only God and suddenly it's so comforting. I broke free and ran to the door,
"Laine!" I called, and she turned, tapping her mother on the shoulder and recieving a nod. She came to me with a small jog.
"Yes?" She said, standing in front of me. I hesitated, completely unable to remember what I wanted to ask her,
"I just suddenly forgot."I lied.
"Oh, alright, can you think of it?"
"No, I'm drawing a blank," we stood looking awkwardly for a moment and I spoke again, "Well, thanks anyways. Goodbye."
"Yes, take care," she said turning and beginning to jog back to her family.
"Wait!" I said, abruptly, she turned yet again and this time stood at distance.
"Can I see you again? All of you, I mean."
"I don't see why not," she wrote her phone number on a sheet of paper from her notebook, and handed it to me.
"We have dinner on Thursday nights with the Professor, it would be nice if you could come, I'm sure my mother wouldn't mind."
"Thank you, thank you very much." She jogged off again and waved as she did.
I went back inside and sat at the chairs, in profound confusion, wondering about this family, wondering mostly about Laine and what had made me want to see a young girl like her again, being unable to. Knowing only I didn't want to let her go, but had to, I'd seen families like that before. The kind so close that to try to squeeze into them is not only in bad taste, but futile as well. I decided to get that bottle of wine.
I left, walking downhill towards downtown and towards the library where I sat in the grassy park in front of it, pulled out my book and wine, and finished them. The same book Tobin had.
By her face alone I would have thought she was ten years old, but her height and demeanor told me she was more of an adult; I assumed her actual age was somewhere in between. She wore a long, offwhite, tiered skirt with a black shirt covered by a deep red, cordouroy, blazer-like jacket, she stood with one foot tapping the cement behind her, a pad of yellow paper in her arms. Her hair was so blonde it was nearly white, it fell to her neck, but not quite onto her shoulders. Straight and full, it was nearly iridescant in the dark, overcast world she lived in; her hair and her piercing Hazel eyes stole my attention and would not let go. I'd never seen hair like this, my own seemed like a curse compared to the beauty of that blonde-white sight. It was not overly thick nor thin, she was clearly not even approaching albinoism, which I have seen before and it does not produce these results; but her hair was without doubt sub or super human in nature, the product of some mixture of gold-spun spidersilk and moonbeams, or something equally as impossible.
A sort ex-girlfriend drove me there, from my house where I'd spent time trying to kiss her and had, little kisses of friends who used to be together, though she was dating someone seven years older than her. And when she left, she dropped me off and I was in the rain and wanted to call her when she got home and tell her I wanted her to come get me again and that I wanted to keep kissing her, and it was odd...because she would have, but I didn't call. I sat and read and drank, and now this; and I consider this one of the more odd things to have happened to me, because it takes a lot of courage or excentricity to just approach someone like she did. It's something I rarely do, and only when looking for one or two things. She looked at me, and I at her, it seemed like forever, and just as I felt tension like she was going to run down the walkway and out into the rain and across this city, she spoke.
"Excuse me, are you busy?" She asked with little apprehension. Her voice was young and girlish, but her tone was formal and adult.
"I'm not, what is it?" I replied, closing my book, finger sitting in the fold.
"Well, and I never do this, but my siblings and I are taking a trip to San Diego, to visit my older brother, and you look around his age, and I wanted to ask someone his age who had been there, what I should expect."
"You're in luck, I have been there. Just recently actually."
"Great, may I ask you about it?"
"Sure, go ahead."
"Well, I'd like for my brothers to hear, would you mind sitting inside with us? Our mother is shopping."
"That sounds fine," I replied, taking note of the page I was on and standing slowly. I pushed the bottle into the backpack, noticing her notice it, I smiled and hoisted the bag onto my shoulder. I took a final drag of the cigarette and dropped it, stamping it out with my toe. I motioned for her to lead the way and followed close behind her. She stopped suddenly,
"How rude of me, I'm Laine. And you?" I told her my name and she nodded politely, turning back and leading me inside.
"How many siblings do you have?" I asked, trying to make small talk.
"Four, three brothers and a sister."
"Wow, quite a family, and do you live with your parents?"
"With my mother, my father died six years ago."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"It's no trouble of yours." We turned towards the left after entering the store, and while thinking of what her siblings would look like, I was forcefully shoved into a fantasy of the fourth reich. At a table sat two boys, one with hair even whiter than Laine's, another with somewhat darker, yellow hued hair, with his nose in a book, the other wearing large silver and black headphones. As we approached there was no acknowledgment that we approached.. They sat at a round picnic table made of steel and glass, in patio chairs of the same type. Laine sat down next to the boy reading the book and I sat between her and the headphone wearing one.
"This is my twin brother Ky and my younger brother Tobin." The brothers were nearly the same height, much shorter than Laine, the whiter haired one had a young full face, the darker haired one (which is probably erroneous to call him), had a thinner face, his face looked the oldest of them all. They both looked very different from Laine, even aside from the height, but all retained some quality, even besides the hair, which made them seem like siblings.
"I'm sorry, which is which?" They both paid no attention to us, headphones, drumming against the table lightly with his forefingers and bookworm following the lines with his.
"Don't apologize, you could probably never guess which is actually my twin." She tapped the table and headphones looked up.
"Ky, introduce yourself." He smiled and slid his headphones down onto his neck,
"I was waiting for him to make a move."
"Not very nice of you, you know."
"Don't say that," he looked to me, "Yo, I'm Ky." I was thoroughly surprised and now incredibly interested in this family, he continued to smile as I introduced myself. Staring with his very dark bluish eyes. Asking me afterwards,
"Have you been to San Diego? My brother works for Sony there, he tests video games; he sends me all the ones he likes."
"Very cool," I replied, "sounds like a good setup."
"Yes...cool." He spoke slowly with the faintest hint of sarcasm, almost indetectable. I nearly entered shock, asking myself, who are these kids? Where did they come from?
Laine looked to me,
"You'll have to excuse his behavior, he's very precocious and also a pretensious cynic. And I'm sorry that you'll not get an introduction from this one." Ky laughed throwing his head back as she pointed at Tobin,
"There's not a way, I know, to get him out of something he's reading."
"How old is he?"
"He'll be seven next month. Ky and I also start high school next month, did you like high school very much?"
"I suppose I did, I had a lot of fun."
"That sounds nice, we've never been to a public school. Do you attend the university?"
"I do, last semester closed my third year."
"Do you know professor (I've chosen to omit last names, and you've probably noticed, even my own first name, to protect this family and mine, though I doubt anyone of us need it.)? Have you had any classes with him?"
"I haven't, but I know of him. I hear he's very demanding."
"He is, that is true."
"You know him?"
"Yes, he's tutored our whole family, even my oldest brother since he was Tobin's age." I'm fairly sure, at that point, that my mouth dropped open. This was surely the most amazing thing I'd ever heard outside the realm of fantasy. Before I could begin to ask anything more about the arrangement involving small children and the, apparently, biggest hardass on campus, Laine spoke up again.
"Oh, yes, we're here to ask you about San Diego. My brother lives in Mission Beach, have you been there?" Recovering slowly, I replied that I had, and had liked it very much. I told them about the layout, the twins looked at eachother smiling, excited.
"That sounds wonderful, my brother lives there with our nephew and his girlfriend. I can't wait to be there, they tell us how happy they are whenever they call." I imagined what this older brother was like, undoubtedly a tall blonde, and working as a video game tester...probably thin with a slightly outdated haircut; but undoubtedly a genius as well, as these children seemed to be.
"How old is your brother?" I asked.
"He's twenty-four, he moved to San Diego only a few months ago, but we miss him very much already," she replied.
"Why did he move there?"
"To work for Sony," she replied, and suddenly Ky broke in from across the table, speaking to her more than to me it seemed,
"To be closer to his son actually," turning to me, "his ex-girlfriend moved there without him."
"There is that, too," she said, frowning at her brother.
"I see, does he have that same amazing hair you all have?"
"He did, but at age sixteen it began turning black and curling up. It's more like my mothers now, this hair we have came from my father." She replied, playing a little bit with the ends of her hair. Ky looked directly at me, staring, I thought I could feel the hairs on my neck standing up, it was like static between us, and he spoke,
"I don't want my hair to change."
"Why do you think his did?"
"I think it changed because he lost his way, a lot of people seem to lose their way around that age."
"That's true, I did."
"Really? How?" he asked, showing all the impetuousness of youth. I laughed aloud at this, and thought of the two mornings I always think of when I recall youth. A June morning when I was hardly a teenager and awoke sometime near ten A.M., and played loudly a song that deserved to be played loudly. And as I lay in bed and sang I thought what a great time it was to be alive and how I wanted this feeling of appreciation for the present to last forever, though it passed before I could even realize it. And the second morning, I awoke, it was nearly the same situation, but a friend was sitting in the chair in my room, looking over at me. I knew how close we were, because it was not odd that this person was randomly in my room as I awoke, looking at me, and it needed no explaining, the only thing needed was an idea for what to do with that day, and essentially that life...and I always wonder, if I still live that life.
"What can I say, really, I became wrapped up in some things I shouldn't have."
"Drugs?"
"Not really, but I don't know if I should discuss this with you."
"Don't treat me like a child, I'll make you look bad." He pulled the headphones back onto his ears and broke his gaze with me. I looked to Laine with a slight smile and questioning eyes, "you'll have to forgive my brother...again. He can't be tamed. But would you tell me, how exactly, you lost your way?"
"Eh, I don't know if I should do this."
"You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to."
"I really shouldn't." She then turned away, ever so slightly, almost unnoticably. I could feel, though, her sudden likeness with her brother.
"I wonder where my mother is, we've been waiting for quite a while," she spoke with complete uninterest, though she hid it well, I could tell. It pained me to have treated her that way, it pains me still, but at least I tried to make up for it.
"Well, I became involved with a girl. I became involved in something bigger than myself, bigger than both of us. Bigger than anything I'd been involved with, to this day...it ended up going nowhere, or worse than nowhere. The problem though, was with her. Love, or the illusion of it can make you do crazy things.
"I see, I've never had a romantic relationship but I understand the concept of doing bad things for the person you love."
"It's not that I did bad things, it's...well, high school is a prime time for that kind of behavior. So watch yourself, don't get involved with the wrong people, I guess that's my advice."
"Thankyou, I don't think I need to fear that, I have never known a boy to be attracted to me."
"What? Really? That's surprising." She blushed slightly here, and I realized that something had happened and I was standing on a kind of threshold, I realized, I thought she was very beautiful and attractive. I became somewhat frightened, hoping that some secret desire for a girl of this age was not making it's way through me. I realize now, but did not then, that she was very beautiful and attractive always, and it grew with age.
"Why, thank you." Fully blushing after the reply. I immediately tried to change the subject, but took it only so far.
"Anyway, love is dangerous sometimes. I think I've stopped that though," I laughed a little laugh, a sad laugh actually...Because I hadn't really experienced love in a long time, and it was good and bad, but I was still a little lonely. Why else would I sit on a bench just out of the rain, reading and drinking.
"Have you?" And here, I feel I reacted far too strongly, defensively really, at what I believe was a joke, and regret it even still. Too used to answering this question in such a way, to friends, parents, doctors, all those people, I spoke,
"Yes, I have." And though the words seem simple and harmless, I allowed too much emotion to escape and it was clear, and I feel I made an error. The look on her face was that of one who had just taken a blow, I answered her simple question with nearly a snarl. This time instead of her almost unnoticable turn, she instead continued to stare, as her brother had. And of course, and I attributed it to their twin telepathy, Ky spoke up, headphones still on, looking at me,
"Harsh, she only asked a simple question." I looked over to him, and feeling defeated, back to her.
"I'm sorry," I nearly whispered, crushed under the weight of their intimidating presences. Ky's white locks falling in an arc to his eyes, curling above his ears towards his temples and also under them, wrapping him up in so many curling waves, appearing as seamfoam on the break. Laine's sun-bleached gold falling elegantly, the tips of her ears jutting out from the sides, seemingly showing her youth, and accenting her beauty with elfish features. And the incessant turning of pages from the dirty blonde web of long tangles falling down towards the book Tobin continued to run his finger across.
So wrapped in my shame, my strangely admitted weakness, I didn't notice until she turned, that a hand had come to rest on her arm. When she turned, I did as well, another blonde head of hair, this time tied in pigtails, stood at the height of her elbow. The most yellow of all, canary yellow, whatever that means, and all I can use to describe it, with a cherubs face attached to it, bandaids crossed over the bridge of her nose, peeked from behind her arm.
"Hello, darling, come say hi," she spoke to the child, bringing her into view,
"This is Clarion, my younger sister, youngest of us all. Our golden child."
"Hello, little one, how are you?" And turning to Laine, "does she speak?"
"Never in public, but you can't shut her up at home," Ky spoke, looking at me, then turning his face down to her,
"runt, come give me a hug." She ran around the table to him with a smile from ear to ear, and hugged him tightly. He lifted her up and sat her on his lap. She wore that kind of dress that can make a grown woman seem childish with lace lined socks and shining cherry-red shoes, her hair in short pigtails, as darling as any child I'd ever seen. And had she not been sitting in her brothers lap, the bandaids on her nose would have forced me to believe she was an orphan. My eyes went back to Tobin, still deep in that book.
"What book is your brother reading?"
"Oh, it's one Ky and I gave him," she told me the name, and it hit me like a train, I almost went spinning, tossing my book, backpack flying off my shoulder, bottle of wine falling and breaking as I landed on the floor.
"Why that book?"
"It seems to us like a biography of our family, in some respects."
"I suppose it does."
"Have you read it?" We sat momentarily in silence as I watched him read, my eyes following his fingers, and I dazed off, thinking about this situation, my mouth half open about to respond.
Laine spoke, a greeting, and I looked over, another hand resting on her shoulder; my mind followed my eyes upward, to eyes of a shallow blue and sheets of black hair cascading over shoulders. I knew immediately, through the disparate looks, I knew: This was their mother. She couldn't have been older than 30, but I knew she must have been. She looked at me, with a somewhat questioning look, I could see the gears of protection of her children turning in her mind.
"Hi," I spoke up, smiling wide, attempting to be as non-threatening as possible. Laine shook her head as if waking,
"Oh, mom, this is our new friend. He was just telling us about San Diego?" She smiled back at me,
"Oh, do you know my son, Vaughn?"
"I'm afraid I don't but I was in San Diego last month."
"Very nice, I'm Rhys." I introduced myself and stood to shake her hand as she came around Laine's chair slightly. Her eyes, never seeming to leave mine, though I glanced away several times out of nervousness. Finally, she did break them off, to look at her children.
"Well, everyone, I'm through shopping are you ready to go?" The children stood, Ky sliding Clarion to the floor, and even Tobin, still reading the book, stood.
"It was very nice to meet all of you, I hope we can again in the future," I spoke somewhat awkwardly.
"It was nice to meet you as well, thankyou for all the information, and I too hope we can meet again in the future," Laine spoke shaking my hand, "farewell." I watched them exit, Ky hand in hand with Clarion turned and wave, and then stopped and help her wave too. She giggled and tried to run, pulling weakly though with all her might at Ky's arm. Rhys walked out slowly, herding Tobin, her hand on his head, steering him away from objects,
"Goodbye, it was nice to meet you," she spoke.
"You too, bye." I said, watching them all dissapearing out the sliding doors, Laine last, behind her mother, her eyes against mine, smiling until she crossed the threshold and dissapeard from sight. I stood for a moment, in shock. It felt, to me, like a powerful and unknown force, something spooky almost, resided there; but it was also that kind of realization, feeling a presence watching you or bearing down on you, at first it scares you, puts that nervous fear that can only come from the unknown into you, but you then realize it's only God and suddenly it's so comforting. I broke free and ran to the door,
"Laine!" I called, and she turned, tapping her mother on the shoulder and recieving a nod. She came to me with a small jog.
"Yes?" She said, standing in front of me. I hesitated, completely unable to remember what I wanted to ask her,
"I just suddenly forgot."I lied.
"Oh, alright, can you think of it?"
"No, I'm drawing a blank," we stood looking awkwardly for a moment and I spoke again, "Well, thanks anyways. Goodbye."
"Yes, take care," she said turning and beginning to jog back to her family.
"Wait!" I said, abruptly, she turned yet again and this time stood at distance.
"Can I see you again? All of you, I mean."
"I don't see why not," she wrote her phone number on a sheet of paper from her notebook, and handed it to me.
"We have dinner on Thursday nights with the Professor, it would be nice if you could come, I'm sure my mother wouldn't mind."
"Thank you, thank you very much." She jogged off again and waved as she did.
I went back inside and sat at the chairs, in profound confusion, wondering about this family, wondering mostly about Laine and what had made me want to see a young girl like her again, being unable to. Knowing only I didn't want to let her go, but had to, I'd seen families like that before. The kind so close that to try to squeeze into them is not only in bad taste, but futile as well. I decided to get that bottle of wine.
I left, walking downhill towards downtown and towards the library where I sat in the grassy park in front of it, pulled out my book and wine, and finished them. The same book Tobin had.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
This is not good...it's true though...
The one that came inside had a narrow, thin face like a rat's, and a head of dreads that combined to make him think he looked like Zach De La Rocha. He seemed stupid. He'd clearly been wandering, a great distance most likely. He looked haggard. His voice was that kind of worn out high pitch, where it sounds a little strained at all times. He begged. He offered him fish, but he wouldn't take it. But came back a little later and took it for another. These were the two dogs that came that night and were astounding to him.
"I'm like, hopping trains and just got in town. I'm like, so starving, bro. You got any food maybe you could give me, you know?" He said moving his arms, seeming a little manic.
"Right here," he said handing him the fish burrito he'd accidentally made, "you like fish?"
"Ah, bro, damn...I know beggars can't be choosers, but I don't dig seafood really."
"Well, come back later around nine and I'll make you up something with the food we throw away." He said distractedly as he noticed that the erotically chubby girl who he'd served a minute before was sitting with her legs apart and exposing her underwear in his general direction.
"Oh, what time is it now?"
"8:15."
"Ah, damn, well, shit bro. Ok, I'll come back then."
"Alright, later."
The kid extended his dirty hand and he slapped it lightly and then they put their fists together; he walked out the door, one hand pulling up his baggy torn pants. His eyes went back to the dress with the open legs. The door opened and the kid came back in.
"Hey, so my brodog will eat that." This was when he first realized it. This kid was a dog. He watched him beg, he saw the dog. This dirty, stupid kid who rides on freight trains across this country was in reality a dog, and so he took pity on him as he would a dog. He handed him the burrito again, "you think I could like get some chips and hot salsa or something, I gotta watch my bro eat and shit, I'm like starving." He put some chips in a bag and filled a small cup with salsa, handing it to him, not saying a word.
"Yo, thanks so much man. Shit, thanks." He said, again extending his hand, "you're fucking cool man, I'll come back at nine, I know you'll hook it up so fat."
He was closing up, sweeping the floor about to mop it, when his coworker began talking to someone at the door. He figured it was the dog, it was about nine. He walked to the open back door of the kitchen, they were two at the door, smiling with stupid excited grins. They stood just as dogs, making the smiling dog faces, tongues out, tails wagging. He was astounded. These men were dogs...Dogs. He made them a lot of food and took it out the back, he saw their packs on the ground and saw them begging at a nearby table of another restaraunt. He left the food there with their packs and he saw the rat dog one coming back in. He walked to the counter and waited for him.
"Yo, man."
"Hey, I left the food with your packs." The other dog who was an ugly blonde shorthair with piercings in his face and a leather jacket came in behind the rat dog.
"Oh, badass man, you think, I could like get some chips. You'll like throw them out anyway."
"No, we keep the chips...but you can have some."
"And salsa, man? I love salsa, I'm so big on salsa."
"Yea, salsa, sure."
"And like maybe some lemonade and water, you know, like a big cup?"
"Yea, go ahead."
"Oh, shit thanks man." He was simply amazed at what this man, these men were, these men were the dogs. From appearance to action, these men were dogs.
"I'm like, hopping trains and just got in town. I'm like, so starving, bro. You got any food maybe you could give me, you know?" He said moving his arms, seeming a little manic.
"Right here," he said handing him the fish burrito he'd accidentally made, "you like fish?"
"Ah, bro, damn...I know beggars can't be choosers, but I don't dig seafood really."
"Well, come back later around nine and I'll make you up something with the food we throw away." He said distractedly as he noticed that the erotically chubby girl who he'd served a minute before was sitting with her legs apart and exposing her underwear in his general direction.
"Oh, what time is it now?"
"8:15."
"Ah, damn, well, shit bro. Ok, I'll come back then."
"Alright, later."
The kid extended his dirty hand and he slapped it lightly and then they put their fists together; he walked out the door, one hand pulling up his baggy torn pants. His eyes went back to the dress with the open legs. The door opened and the kid came back in.
"Hey, so my brodog will eat that." This was when he first realized it. This kid was a dog. He watched him beg, he saw the dog. This dirty, stupid kid who rides on freight trains across this country was in reality a dog, and so he took pity on him as he would a dog. He handed him the burrito again, "you think I could like get some chips and hot salsa or something, I gotta watch my bro eat and shit, I'm like starving." He put some chips in a bag and filled a small cup with salsa, handing it to him, not saying a word.
"Yo, thanks so much man. Shit, thanks." He said, again extending his hand, "you're fucking cool man, I'll come back at nine, I know you'll hook it up so fat."
He was closing up, sweeping the floor about to mop it, when his coworker began talking to someone at the door. He figured it was the dog, it was about nine. He walked to the open back door of the kitchen, they were two at the door, smiling with stupid excited grins. They stood just as dogs, making the smiling dog faces, tongues out, tails wagging. He was astounded. These men were dogs...Dogs. He made them a lot of food and took it out the back, he saw their packs on the ground and saw them begging at a nearby table of another restaraunt. He left the food there with their packs and he saw the rat dog one coming back in. He walked to the counter and waited for him.
"Yo, man."
"Hey, I left the food with your packs." The other dog who was an ugly blonde shorthair with piercings in his face and a leather jacket came in behind the rat dog.
"Oh, badass man, you think, I could like get some chips. You'll like throw them out anyway."
"No, we keep the chips...but you can have some."
"And salsa, man? I love salsa, I'm so big on salsa."
"Yea, salsa, sure."
"And like maybe some lemonade and water, you know, like a big cup?"
"Yea, go ahead."
"Oh, shit thanks man." He was simply amazed at what this man, these men were, these men were the dogs. From appearance to action, these men were dogs.
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