Selah.
I whispered it to myself often whenever I thought of her. That's when I knew.
"What are you thinking about?" Her voice startled me. I looked up and to the left, my mouth hiding the grin I wanted to release.
"What are you looking for?" I replied.
She frowned, turned toward the direction she came from and then stopped.
"I was trying to find you," she said while looking away.
"Well, here I am." I didn't mean to be callous, it just happened.
"Do you want me to walk away?" she asked as she fidgeted with her earring.
"Yes. No. I don't know. Why'd you come find me?"
She didn't reply but started spinning in small circles. I watched but didn't stop her. When she was finished, she turned toward me.
"Why are you hiding?" she asked.
"I'm not hiding, I'm avoiding."
"Who?" she replied.
"I thought it was pretty obvious."
She frowned, but instead of walking away she took a seat. "I'm sorry. About Saturday. I didn't mean what I said."
"You shouldn't be," I replied.
"Shouldn't be sorry?" she asked.
"Nope. What you said was true, but what I said was true too."
She let out a flustered breath, picked up a rock and threw it at the wall. "I don't understand you."
"There's a lot about me you don't know, and even then, I don't understand myself," I said.
"So tell me."
"What do you want to know?" I asked.
"Everything. The scars. Nathan. Your past."
I closed my eyes and squeezed hard before pulling them back open. Just as I found her, the bell rang. She flinched but kept staring at me. Her eyes were a dark hazel, but they reminded me of Gio's. Young, innocent and hopeful. The bell silenced, but neither of us moved.
"Meet me at the park after school," I replied then grabbed my bag and stood.
She followed my lead and smiled while balancing on the tips of her toes. "The park. After school."
I walked up to her and grabbed a strand of her hair—the edges curling up and out in various directions. Pulling down, I let go and watched as it bounced back into place. And then I left.
My feet took me to my next class, but my brain was absent. Izzy had been pushing me to talk about it, be open and let it go. He thought I was still holding onto it and one of two things was happening—I either didn't believe it had happened, or I did and I was hoarding the experience instead of forgiving myself.
Hoarding.
I didn't get it the first time he said it, but now I did. I wasn't sure which category I fell in, but maybe after tonight I would know. Maybe after tonight I would believe it more. One way or another.
***
I arrived early, more than likely because of fear, but also to reserve the merry-go-round. On a day-to-day basis I preferred the swings. They made me feel free and I could pretend I was a bird. Tonight I needed to feel chaos and also to show Selah chaos. My chaos.
I replayed everything in my head. What I would say and how I would say it. It still didn't sit right. I closed my eyes, breathed through my nose and then leaned down to tighten my laces. A reminder that allowed me to respect my past.
"Hey." Her voice always had a sweet tone, but tonight it went missing.
I leaned back into the merry-go-round and shuffled my feet side to side to face her.
"Are you afraid?" I asked.
"No, but I feel like I'm pressuring you into telling me something you don't want to."
"You could hardly pressure me into doing something I didn't want to do. Just because I'm not happy about it doesn't mean I don't want to tell you," I said.
She took a seat two spots down from me. "We don't have to do this."
"Too late. We’re already here and not talking about it doesn't make it any less real."
"So who knows?" she asked.
"Who knows my story?"
She zipped up her jacket and nodded quickly.
"Well, truthfully only me, but this part, the part that probably matters most, only my mom and Izzy. Well, and a dozen doctors and psychiatrists. Oh, and the donut man on Fifth Street. He happened to ask me the right question on the right day."
I pushed myself off of the rusted orange metal and stood in front of her, my hands grabbing hold of the bars on each side of her frame. "Are you sure you want to know?" I asked.
She scooted back against the center and then looked up. "If it will help me understand you. Then yes. Of course," she replied.
"Ok. Then hold on."
"Metaphorically or to the merry-go-round?" she asked.
"To the merry-go-round."
She placed the soles of her feet on the edges of the bar at the perimeter of the circle and then grabbed the bars above that ran beside her head.
"Is this good enough?"
"For now," I said. "I'll start slow."
"Ok. I trust you," she replied. A smile appeared on her lips and she giggled. For someone who had technically lost it all and had no one to love, she wasn't very cynical. In fact, she trusted easily and saw something in everyone. The opposite of me. I could like her, I think. If I needed the distraction. The bigger question was why would she like me? Either way, I would tell her this. Better now before she formed an opinion, than after and wanted to change her mind. I heard that they did that a lot. Girls. Changed their mind.
My thoughts were derailing, so I started pushing to the left with my right arm. Slow and steady. So slow that I walked right next to the rails.
"Good," I replied. "That might be necessary in the minutes to come."
"You wouldn't hurt a fly, Javi. Stop trying to intimidate."
I didn't reply. There were a lot of things I wouldn't hurt and then the ones that I shouldn't have hurt. So I kept walking and dragging the merry-go-round beside me.
"Do you remember one of the first things you asked me?" I questioned.
Her cheeks crinkled at the top in thought and then she laughed. "Why do you wear all black?"
Innocent hearts remembered innocent things. She liked to believe she hated her father, but in reality I think she missed him more than anything. It was too evident in how she treated everyone else. Always kind. A person full of hate didn't do that.
"No, although in answer to that, I like the color and it makes picking out clothes less complicated."
"Fair enough," she replied. "Oh, I remember now. I asked if Nathan gave you the scars on your neck." Her words someone managed to float on pillows. Inquisitive like a child, Selah's questions, although meaty at times, never offended me.
"Yes, and do you remember what I said?"
She swallowed hard. "You said, you did."
"Correct."
"Why ... Javi, did you try–" She started to ask, but I cut her off.
I began to move the spinning wheel quicker. Selah tightened her grip and sat further back.
"Close your eyes and hold on," I said.
My feet stood planted in the sand surrounding the playground. It was dusk and the night would grow cold soon. I pumped the wheel to the left with stronger pushes at each contact.
"Nathan and I didn't grow apart, we just stopped. One day we were friends and then the next it was like we never existed. That was in junior high. He didn't become my enemy until high school, and from that point on, a series of events took place, one after another."
She was spinning fast, but not fast enough.
"I'm getting dizzy, Javi," she said.
"Good," I replied.
I pumped harder. "Eventually there was only hate between us, and he made my life a living hell. He thought it was funny. He laughed at me every day. It was a giant joke to him." I pumped harder.
"I had no one, Selah. My mom wasn't around. I'd go days without seeing her because of her schedule." My voice grew as the merry-go-round quickened. I started running in spurts next to the wheel to increase its speed. My head ached and my breath came out short and shallo
w. I pushed harder.
"Javier," she said through gritted teeth, "I can't hold on much longer, it's going too fast."
I pushed harder and harder and harder.
"He punished me daily, Selah. Daily! He wouldn't leave me alone. He kept making me pay. He wouldn't stop. He wouldn't stop!" I yelled, hot spit flying out of my mouth into the cold.
"Javi, I can't hold on. Please stop! Make it stop!" she cried.
"I couldn't make it stop, Selah. I tried ignoring him. I tried walking away. I tried everything!" My voice cut the air and if the sky could cry from pain it did.
"Stop it, Javi! Stop it!" she yelled once more.
I grabbed one bar with both hands and halted the merry-go-round. Selah's body had moved to the outer edge from the force of the spin, her hands were bright red and slipped from the bars as she hung over the side. Her chest moved up and down rapidly, and her hair ran wild around her eyes.
We both held still. The park, now abandoned in the setting sun, was quiet except for the crows on the telephone wire. Their silhouette was the only movement against the moon except for the silent breeze rustling the trees.
She sat up and held her head in her hands. "What did you do, Javi?" she questioned without wanting to know the answer. Looking up, she caught my eye. "What did you do?"
I walked up to her, knelt in the sand at her knees and grabbed her hand. Raising it up in the air I dropped it back down. And then my head followed into her lap and my shoulders fell forward, wrapping my arms around her warmth.
"I let go," I said. And as I held her, I let it all go again. Except this time, it was better.
Chapter 25
Two Weeks After Homecoming - The Past
(Nathan)
He had done it again. The same thing. Again. Every year. Why?
No matter how hard I pushed him away, he always came back. I didn't want to be friends anymore. I didn't want him to have a place in my life. I didn't want my father to know that this had come from him. But I didn't want to get rid of it either.
"Nate! You home?"
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I tossed the box into my desk and placed one of my father's old porn magazines on top. My bedroom door opened and he stepped in, "Hey, buddy. What's up?"
His cologne hit me first. Then the alcohol. He only drank on nights and weekends, and the occasional morning mixed with a random afternoon or two. He considered himself a social drinker. He considered himself a good dad. He considered himself a good husband.
He never hit my mother but spent eighteen of their twenty-two years married cheating on her. Which is why I was confused that he kept us around. I guess money was a part of it. Or all of it.
"Hey Dad," I replied, leaning back into my chair and propping my feet up on the corner of my desk.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
"For?"
"Oh, don't be a dumb shit. Your birthday present. It's outside," he replied. His eyes were wide with want and pride and control. The same look I saw when I caught him that first time. He liked owning things. Nice things. My mother and I both were things.
I followed him down the stairs and out the front door. And there sat the biggest thing I'd ever been given. A car. A fast car. An expensive car. A car way too extravagant for a sixteen-year-old.
My father stood next to the door and jingled the keys in his hand. "So what do you think?"
What did I think? I loved it. It was cool. It was awesome. It was mine. What was there to grumble about?
"Wow. I mean, I don't know what to say," I replied. "Thanks, Dad. It's the best." The words were forced and felt wrong.
"Dad?" he replied. "I thought I told you to stop calling me that. You're a man now. Act like it." Throwing the keys at me, I jumped back and caught them. The emblem on the key ring was heavy and raised. My finger brushed the top and I looked up.
"Thanks, Bart. It's awesome," I replied. His grin was thick with teeth and saturated with delight. "Want to take a spin around the block?"
He grabbed me by the shoulders and looked me in the eyes, "Remember, son, there's nothing in life you can't have. If you see something you want, all you have to do is grab it. Grab it and it's yours."
I nodded and nodded and then nodded some more. He'd been telling me this for years now. So far he'd proven the theory true. He always had whatever he wanted. And whomever he wanted.
"Life is for the taking," he said and then squeezed me hard and slapped me on the back. "Happy Birthday. I'll be out late. See you later."
He walked away and got into a black car with tinted windows that had been running the entire time we were in the driveway. It sped off with a soft rumble and left me staring at my car. My really nice car.
I walked back inside to search for my mom. Her car was in the driveway, but I hadn't seen her. A little yellow note sat on the kitchen counter with three hundred dollars cash.
"Money is for food. Had to get away - Mom"
I pocketed the cash and swiped the note into the sink. Letting the water run over it, the paper became soaked and the ink bled until the letters dissolved. The note stuck to the stainless steel until the water pushed it down the drain. I turned on the garbage disposal for five seconds and left.
The door to my bedroom slammed shut behind me as I dropped onto my bed and passed out. My parents were gone and I had zero desire to go out. So I slept.
***
I fumbled around searching for the light switch. Someone was banging on the back door repeatedly, and it was pissing me off. Once I had light, I slid down the stairs and opened the door.
"What the hell is wrong—" My mouth stopped operating mid-sentence. I wasn't. He wasn't. Why was he here?
He stood three feet away, not even blinking. His face still bruised from Homecoming.
"Why?" he asked. The word was quiet, but hard.
"I'm surprised you remembered the address. Didn't think I'd ever see your face on my porch." For once I was at a loss as to what to say. I thought of the present he'd left in my locker earlier. Is that why he came? He'd thought the gesture would soften me. Remind me.
"Why?" he repeated.
My teeth pressed into one another. I began to breathe out my nose as my hand squeezed the doorknob.
"Why the fuck what, Javi?" I said, each word stamped in metal. His face flinched. Finally, a reaction.
He closed his eyes and palmed his face with both hands. His chest began to expand faster and faster until it stopped. I froze in place.
Was he finally going to hit me? Pay me back? Get his revenge? I'd wanted this day to come. Stand up for yourself, Javi. Hit me. Pay me back. Show me you're angry!
My eyes went wide and glossed over with hunger. I could feel the saliva in my mouth puddling with anticipation. I was excited. My hand let go of the doorknob, and I stood open in acceptance. Hit me, Javi. Hit me. Do it. Do it now.
Up and down my lips moved in a silent chant. I wanted to end this. I was begging him. I needed him to hit me.
Javier continued to stand there. No movement. No words. His breathing slow. He dropped his hands to his sides, but his eyes remained closed. The base of them wet.
"Are you crying?" I asked. Disbelief and sarcasm flying out with each word. He hadn't changed at all. He was worse.
"Why?" he repeated, his eyes still closed and his hands balled into fists.
"Don't you remember?" I replied. Hit me, Javier. Just hit me and then we can both walk away.
"Do you remember?" he asked, his eyes turning thoughtful. Yes, I remember, but I've spent the last several years trying to forget.
"It hasn't changed. My reasons are still the same."
"But Nicole? Why her? She's nothing special. You don't even like her," Javier said as his panic grew.
"Because," I replied.
"Because why? Why!" his mouth growled out the last word.
"She wants you," I said.
"So this is just another game? Another manipulation for you to take something from me?" Javier's questioning
made it sound bad, but all I wanted was for him to feel less. Less than me.
"Basically," I replied.
"This isn't you. What changed?" he asked.
"Life is for the taking," I said. And there it was. My father's words becoming my own. I didn't realize it until later that I had repeated him. But maybe he was right. Maybe he understood it all better than me.
Javier hunched forward as he rubbed the darkened edge of his right eye. "Did you get it?" he asked.
"Get what?"
"The box," he replied.
I thought of the gift sitting upstairs underneath the porn. Inside there was a picture—the two of us roasting marshmallows in his apartment. We were eight. It was a good memory, but it tasted sour so I spit it out.
"Your life is so pathetic, Javi. What's the point of living it?"
A large truck pulled up into the driveway, their headlights drowning out my vision. My teammates were here. The engine silenced as people poured out the door. I looked back to Javier, but he was gone. Obscenities and jokes were being yelled across my front lawn as more cars arrived. Turning around, I saw his shadow through the back door.
He stopped underneath the motion light and stared back at me. Shaking his head from side to side, his chin fell to his chest and then he ran away.
The last time I saw him running in my backyard we were twelve. Both of us had smiles. That same night we walked inside and caught my dad. Together. He had his penis in another woman and her naked breasts in his hands. Every time I saw Javier, I saw that woman.
Every. Time.
I was the one who had a dad. I was the one who had everything. It wasn't supposed to be this way.
***
It took only thirty minutes until my house was filled with chicks, booze and most of the wrestling team. The party started at 10 PM and wouldn't stop until the neighbors called the cops. It was the cycle of high school.
If it wasn't here, it was somewhere else. I stood around and watched, but I couldn't get into it.
"Hey Nate? Where are your parents, bro?" Some guy from my English class yelled out.
"Good question," I replied.
They all laughed. The idea of no parents a novelty. One that would be righteously accepted on weekends and evenings.
Seeds of Hate Page 14
