I wish they could get better, Mother. I wish they could.
18
I sighed heavily as I waited alone in the lunch line. It had been nearly a month since I had spoken to John. I glanced over at him in the cafeteria. He was chuckling in the direction of another football player making googly eyes at a senior cheerleader. So comfortable in his new found jock status. I had to say it suited him well. It looked as though he truly had moved on. I tried to act like I had too, but I ached from loneliness on the inside.
I watched the lunch ladies spoon my peas and then my pears onto my plate down the assembly line before shoving it into my chest when I reached the end.
Yummy...
I hated school food, but I had no choice. My mom barely scraped by on her meager waitressing salary. She had picked up more hours, but not nearly enough for me to pack my own lunch. Maybe that's why I remained so skinny.
Mom works too hard, I told myself. She had even told me she was considering a second job at Marv's Grocery. I didn't see her much as it was and couldn't imagine not seeing her at all if she started yet another job.
I heaved another sigh and walked toward an empty table.
Splat!
Slimy mashed peas stuck to the side of my face. Green goo clung heavily in the confines of my sandy hair. I stood still for a moment, gathering the strength to turn around. I could hear my mother's words in my ear again, telling me to just “shrug it off”. I knew JJ or Mike would be standing behind me about to bust a nut laughing at their brilliant prank.
I scraped the remaining peas off the side of my face and turned myself around.
John's shiny white teeth smirked back at me, wiping peas off his hands. His icy blue eyes, once
laughing with me, now laughed at me with an arrogance I had never known. JJ turned and patted him on the back, but not before giving me a triumphant grin.
I was awestruck. I couldn't move. I couldn't make a sound. I just stood there, staring blankly at my ex best friend as he cleaned his hands of me for good. I wanted to cry again, but luckily I was too horrified for any kind of response.
When the feeling finally returned to my feet, I turned around and sat at the end of a cold gray table. I ate nothing, emptied my tray, and walked out.
19
John Lennon once said, “All you need is love”. In some aspects he was right. Love can change everything. It can make you want to move mountains, wish on falling stars, and stop to smell the roses. It can open your eyes to all the possibilities there are to keep living for in the world. But, I've realized after years of reflection while being hopelessly locked up Here, despite the grand power of love and all its glory, sometimes, it just can't stop the inevitable.
In my case, even more so, because it only fueled the already raging fire.
God, I miss Joanna.
20
I could just barely make out the soft steady tapping coming from the back door. I checked the clock.
11:32 pm.
She's early. As usual.
I turned down the volume on the TV and tossed the remote on the couch. It landed with a hard heavy thud against the tattered cushion.
My heart pounded a little faster as I shuffled toward the door. I tried to slow down my anxious pace, afraid to come across too eager. Even after all these weeks I still feel like a giddy little boy.
My fingers gripped the scratched brass colored door handle tightly. I squeezed the knob slightly, trying to steady my overactive nervousness before opening the door.
Deep breath. Deep breath. Calm down, you idiot!
A gentle creek rang through the night as I opened the worn wooden door. The night air was cool and damp, steaming slightly as it hit the warmth from within the house. The air outside was thick with mystery. The darkness filled with infinite possibilities.
Out of that darkness there she stood, my light, like the answer to my prayers. Her tan hoodie clutched tightly around her small frame. She had her hands shoved deep in the pockets of her dark denim jeans. Her brown sketchers bouncing up and down as she tried to keep warm in the crisp chilly air. She smiled brightly up at me despite the fact that she was shivering uncontrollably. That million dollar smile that somehow made everything else go away.
“You're early.”
“No. I'm just not late.”
I smiled back like a love sick puppy and reached out to her. My hand gently grabbed her arm,
pulling her toward me. I squeezed her ever so slightly against my chest, breathing in the intoxicating lavender scent of her skin. Her long corn silk hair brushed against my face like a delicate wave. Time vanished as I held her close, the solidity of her existence comforting every fiber of my being. Only she was able to both excite and calm the butterflies that fluttered aimlessly in the pit of my stomach in her presence.
I was lost in that idyllic moment. She laid her head softly against my shoulder, fitting so absolutely perfect, and let out a faint content moan. The slightest of smiles creeping across her porcelain face.
“ I love you.”
“Ditto.”
21
I let out a long heavy sigh filled with guilt, shame, and remorse. Just when I'm sure my self loathing couldn't possibly get any worse. It does.
What the hell have I done?
22
That worthless son of a bitch!
“You hear me, JJ? You are the worthless piece of shit! Yeah, you can hear me, can't you? I know you can.”
I take in a hard sharp, almost painful breath. My jaw so taught my teeth grate roughly against each other, close to breaking. Hot bubbling rage begins to rise from the tips of my cold toes up to my feverish head. The heat of my anger erupting all that surrounds me as I burned from hatred.
I'd gladly kill that fucker over and over again for eternity just for one assurance that he feels that pain repeatedly.
“Oh Jacky boy, we've got a long road ahead of us.”
Such a long, long road.
I wonder if his putrid soul can handle the journey. I wonder if mine can.
If he can, and I can't, does that make him the better man or me?
23
A sudden deafening thud sang loudly in the caverns of my right ear as a thick-fisted hand plowed straight into the side of my head. Ringing echoed throughout my brain followed by the throbbing pang of nerves screaming in pain up one side of my face and down the other. I stopped dead in my tracks and cringed, clutching my ear tightly.
“Watch where you're walking, Carter! Your face was in the way of my fist!” A deep booming arrogant sound managed to bore its way through the pain in my ear and straight to the pit of my stomach.
JJ. I should have known.
I pushed my palm harder against my head trying to force out the sound of his menacing voice. My bag slowly dropped to floor with a heavy bang. There went my ceramic bowl from pottery class. I imagined the tiny bits of fragments floating aimlessly in my backpack, searching for a way to reconnect. My confidence felt like those fragments right now. I wanted to somehow glue myself together and stand up to this asshole, strong and unbreakable, but reality showed me otherwise. I glanced up slightly hoping he was simply walking away from his dirty deed, but no such luck. JJ peered down, watching me writhe in pain, waiting for my pieces to crack and break. Why does he enjoy this so much? Why does he hate me?!
An evil grin spread slowly across his smug face as he bent down, hovering above me. He leaned in close. I could smell the stolen liquid courage he had downed in the back parking lot earlier mixed with the gas station mints wafting through the air around him. Who was he trying to kid anyway?
“You're such a worthless piece of crap, Carter. You should do the world a favor and just jump off a bridge. My dad says you and your mother are nothing more than a black mark on society. You're mom's a whore, and you're nothing but a bastard. If I had a chance, Carter, I'd get rid of you myself,” his voice practically whispered the last words in my still ringing ear.
Hatred and rage bubbled down in the core of my soul.
How dare he? Every cell in my body screamed to avenge my mother's honor against this ogre of a boy. Who was he calling a black mark? His very ignorance and lack of intelligence seemed more of a black mark than my mother or myself. Whore, huh? He should take a long look at his father for that one. Everyone knows what a piece of shit womanizer he is. What a joke he was! You'll end up just like you're daddy, JJ. I could imagine his life in ten years. No more Friday night lights for you, Jacky! No more cheerleaders! No more free passes! Nothing but a fat-assed wife with five kids, a mortgage, and a pay-nothing job working for Daddy at the car dealership!
My face grew flush with anger as I returned his gaze, trying to fight off the intense throbbing in my head. I straightened myself up in front of him as much as I could muster without passing out from a combination of anguish and fury.
My bony fingers curled tightly into a ball, ready for a fight. JJ and I stared intently at each other for what seemed like hours. The hallway, filled with passing students, drifted away. Laughter and casual conversations disappeared with each passing second. This was it. The “showdown” I had always dreamed of. This was my chance to stop this shit once and for all.
I raised up, clenched my fist tighter, pulled back, and swung with all my might.
I felt the wind surge across my skin as my fist flew through the air like a bullet. I let out a strong, courageous cry of war just before hitting my target.
Thump!
My punch barely shook JJ's stocky body as my fist landed hard into his chest. He stood firm
and unmoving in front of me. I was like a fly trying to attack a lion. Defeat and shame exploded across my face as I looked back at him. JJ appeared stunned, but not deterred. His lips curled into a half snarl, half smile, eyebrows furrowed, jaw clenched.
JJ had to barely touch me before I fell to the ground. His enormous fist struck me hard in the
chest, knocking the wind out of me. I choked, clutching my stomach trying to get air into my deflated lungs while fending off the wave of nausea now rummaging my body. I crumpled to floor like a used napkin, feeling just as worthless. A looming dark object encased my vision as JJ's black boot pummeled me right in the face. Warm blood gushed from the confines of my nostrils, oozing to the floor. Shouts and hollers erupted all around us as I remembered that we were not alone in the hallway. I coughed, spraying blood down my shirt and on JJ's boots.
“Ugh! Damn it!” was the last sound I heard before the thick odor of leather came riveting toward my bruised and battered face again.
JJ kicked me square in the jaw. The hard rubber sole of his boot crushed against the side of my face. I could feel my teeth grind against each other, the screeching of tooth on tooth became deafening as it merged with my internal screams of agony. I could feel the tendons stretch to capacity as my face smeared between JJ's boot and the smooth waxed linoleum of the school floor. The sickly, sweet-sour smell of the Orange Glo polish overwhelmed my senses. A surge of hot-cold tingled up and down my body as sweat broke out across my forehead, mixing with the sticky warm blood still racing down my nose. My stomach lurched forward spilling the contents of my government funded school lunch all over the once shiny floor. What once were shrieks of joy over watching a fight quickly turned to cries of disgust as I continued to vomit in the crowded hall.
Teachers from every room of the building began pouring out of their classrooms, fighting through the scrambling crowd. JJ took this as his cue to vacate himself from the scene of the crime. I
watched through tear and blood filled eyes as he disappeared into the chaos.
I lay broken and defeated in my own blood and vomit, surrounded by peers and adults who gazed at me with sad pity.
Some defender of honor I was. What was the damn point anymore of even trying?
*
I could still feel the hot wet of blood and puke sticking to my face even now. The putrid acidic odor invading my senses fueling my nausea. I spent three hours at the hospital that day getting checked over by rude nurses and know it all doctors who only pretended to care. I ended up with a concussion, a broken nose, and two chipped teeth. That was one of the worst things JJ had ever done to me, physically anyway. But by far not the worst though. I still haven't quite come to terms with that demon just yet.
How pathetic I must have looked to him then. I wonder if it was anything like he looked to me on that day...
24
They always say, “it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all”, but what they fail to tell you is that the pain of losing that love is sometimes more intense than any physical damage could ever be. It is why they call it a crush, right?
*
I sat quietly in the corner of the room. Last desk in the last row. The story of my life. English was an easy subject for me so this was my favorite class to mentally escape in. In that back corner was sometimes my only refuge during the day. JJ had the great fortune of repeating sophomore English this semester and therefore was not able to enlighten me with his presence in class. I was never so thankful for his stupidity as I was those last couple of years in high school.
My used copy of Hamlet lay untouched on my worn out desk. I'd read it twice before in junior high. The lagging discussion by my classmates was pointless to me. The girls were disappointed that we were not reading Romeo and Juliet, and the boys were only pretending to know anything about the book to impress the rather busty, young, first year teacher, Miss Clary. I could have cared less about either.
I pondered taking steroids as a minute possibility to free my current physical state to coincide with my diminishing acne and apparent high cheek bones, when fate struck me like lightening.
Still mentally unaware of my surroundings, I realized I was nodding my head in agreement long before I knew what I was agreeing to. As the fog of my imaginary journey lifted, the reality that Joanna Fairley was talking to me slammed me against a brick wall. She was knee deep in an intense conversation with me and I had no clue what the subject was. Embarrassed by my stupidity, I just kept
nodding, feeling at least a yes to everything she said was better than no response at all. With Joanna, even after all these years, I would agree to almost anything she said anyway.
“Well?” she asked looking intently at me for a answer.
Oh shit, was all I could muster to think. I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. I thought about nodding my head again, but knew that would instantly give me away.
She dropped her head slightly, her stare boring a little deeper into mine. The soft tapping of her pencil was the only noise between us for what seemed like eternity. She scrunched up her eyebrows accusingly.
“You have no idea what I just said, do you?”
I was struck dumb. I wanted to tell her the truth, but feared I'd just piss her off. The odds were not in my favor yet again. Imagine that. I decided to go for broke.
“I'm sorry. Really. I wasn't paying attention. It's kind of my only escape of the day in this class so I guess I take advantage of that.”
Did I really just tell Joanna Fairley that I have to “escape” during the day? What the hell was I thinking?
Suddenly feeling deflated for ousting myself, I instantly regretted what I had said, until she smiled at me.
“I don't blame you. You deserve a break. JJ can be such a jerk,” Her face slightly flushed as her smiled broadened. I then realized her eyes were the most unique shade of brown and green. Hypnotic even. Strange, I had never actually looked her in eye before.
Speechless was the only way to describe the feeling,
“Um..so...I asked you why you weren't sitting in the front row with the rest of the guys. I know
you're really smart, and Miss Clary is very pretty, you know,” she smiled again lowering her gaze, the red tint on her cheeks spreading like wild fire. I don't remember ever seeing Joanna look so intimidated before.
“Thanks, yeah, I guess so,” I stammered, both shocked and intrigued by the compliment and that she wou
ld ask me such a question. I obviously didn't sit up front because I wasn't welcomed to and not because I couldn't hold a decent discussion. I was pretty sure she knew that, but I pressed on.
“She's not really my type.”
“Oh,” she replied lightly, her cheeks now blazing, “ So, what is your type?”
My heart raced uncontrollably. I was sure she could see it bounding through my thin t-shirt, practically bursting through my chest. My face grew hot and cold at the same time, a huge smiled spreading across my face. I tried forcing it back, but failed miserably. I choked a bit trying to catch my breath before answering. I wasn't smooth or cunning when it came to girls. I had never been on a date and barely talked to any girls at all, let alone ones who were completely out of my league. James Bond was never a hero of mine, and at this moment I wished on every fiber of my being that I had spent more time watching Golden Eye than I had watching Star Wars. I opened my mouth, about to say I didn't really have a type, but suddenly changed my mind. I stared back into those hazel eyes and did the impossible.
“You are.”
25
Warm streams of hot salty tears run down my face. My heart wants to die at every thought of her. Times like this I blame JJ for what ended up happening that day. Deep down, through the dark tunnel of my conscious I tell myself that it's all his fault. I really wish that were true. If I could just convince myself that this was all a result of solely him, perhaps I could live with myself. As crazy as it seemed at the time, I should have just walked away, ran away actually. I should have just let it go and moved on like normal people do, but how do you move on from something like that? Could I really have been expected to move on? Could she?
H. A. Carter Page 4
