One

by J. A. Laraque

  Alone in the dark

  Christine once told me that darkness was created so people could wrap themselves within it. She said that it was a time to feel close to someone or close to yourself. I too thought this way except for me being alone in the dark was about freedom. I only felt free when I was alone. I couldn’t say when this started. Ashley, my sister, would tell me it happened after my father’s death. I think it was long before that. Even with my friends and Christine, I still felt the best when I was alone. Perhaps that’s what I’ve always wanted; to be alone. Was that so wrong?

  I guess it doesn’t matter now. If anyone is reading this then, I was wrong, if no one ever reads this then, I have failed. I am not good at telling stories, but it is best to start at the beginning. I only assume this was the beginning because I honestly don’t know when everything fell apart. There were a lot of lessons that I learned and a lot I will never learn. I did discover why the darkness of night was created. It was so you can reflect on yourself, learn the truth and be humbled.

  It started in my room where I spent most of my time. When my family first moved into this apartment high above the noise and confusion of Chicago below, I knew I would find peace here. From my balcony I could look to my right, across Lake Shore Drive and see the majestic Lake Michigan or look left, across the immense green landscapes of Lincoln Park. Even in the light of day I felt segregated from the strangeness of humanity and it felt grand. I’m not a poet or a dreamer. I was just a twenty year old college student that wanted to be left in peace.

  I kept my room dark, even in the day time. They created a word and tried to label me with it, Emo. Maybe there was a label for me, but it sure as hell wasn’t created by the YouTube generation. There were no all-black clothes in my closet. I didn’t spend my time listening to rock music while contemplating suicide. The light, at least when in my room, was just, unwelcome. I still spent time outside and with friends and family. Christine and I had a great relationship; at least I thought we did.

  That night I just didn’t want to go out. It was a Friday, there was no rule saying you had to run out onto the street or else you weren’t normal. I was comfortable. My room was quiet; mom and Ashley had left me alone. It was just me and my computer. The coolness of the night was calming. I was not full wrapped within the shadows of the dark. My computer monitor was bright enough. There was plenty of light from it, and the moon, it was as if it was just outside my patio doors.

  Online gaming is another form of freedom and it’s cost effective. It allowed me to interact with people and yet remain separated and anonymous. I didn’t overdo it. I just played it during down-time, mostly to unwind.

  It should have been just a normal day, but it wasn’t. My cell phone blasted out “Again” by Earshot. Christine put the song on there, it was a good song, but damn, did it have to be so loud? There’s no pause for online games so one should understand my frustration. The flashing light from the phones screen was just as intrusive as the noise. I didn’t need to turn around and look at the phone on top of my bed to know who it was. The ringtone was a custom selection for Christine.

  My room was larger than Ashley’s which upset her. I decided to place my bed in the center of the room and build around it. This allowed me to have maximum wall space for my various books, academic achievement awards and collectables. It also made it simple to lean back in my office chair and grab hold of the cell phone from the bed and lean back toward the desk. Timing is everything and I knew how long the song would play until the voicemail took the call. She would just call me back if that happened; she knew I was at home.

  I could flip the phone open with my left hand while keeping control over my character with the mouse in my right hand. These skills are important if you are going to play online games. However, I needed my left hand for the keyboard. Thank God for the speaker button.

  “What took you so long?”

  Christine’s voice could be smooth and seductive, when she wanted it to be. Right now she sounded more like my mother about to go into one of her lectures.

  “I love the song you put into my phone so much. I just had to let it play.”

  She hated my sarcasm. Well, she hated it when it was directed at her.

  “There’s no need to get pissy, Timothy. I didn’t call to pull you from that stupid game.”

  Christine always had a distain for my online gaming. She claimed I spent too much time on it. This from a girl who could spend all day sending instant messages to her millions of friends across the world, people she had never met.

  “I’ve learned what happens when I try to keep you from something you want to do.”

  I didn’t know what she meant by that. Honestly, I didn’t care at that moment. Even on speaker it isn’t easy to listen and concentrate on my game.

  “So you called because…?”

  She went silent on me. Maybe I shouldn’t have said it like that.

  “I just wanted to make sure we were still meeting at the library tomorrow. It’s…important.”

  Christine didn’t put the word important to just anything. That was the first time I heard of this importance, I thought I knew why she added that word.

  “I didn’t mean it like that, Christine. I know that my lack of wanting to go out as of late has bugged you, but I’m not going to stand you up.”

  Although I’ve done it before, it was not that I didn’t want to see her, but… truthfully I couldn’t remember why.

  “I know that. It’s just… It’s nothing that won’t keep until tomorrow. I’ll let you get back to your game.”

  There was something wrong, something in her voice.

  “Alright, tomorrow then; Christine, you do know that I love you, right?”

  I could hear her breathing. It didn’t sound normal.

  “Yeah, I know; I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She hung up first. She never did that unless she was upset. I wanted to return to my game, but I couldn’t. I’ve made some stupid mistakes in my life, many that hurt the people I love. Sadly, despite knowing this, I continued to make them. Christine had been nothing, but supportive since I met her. We’ve been through some stuff and sometimes her nagging got on my nerves. The thing is I knew she only had my best interest in mind. It had been a tough year, not only for Christine and me, but for my entire family. I had been a bit distant. I just needed some time.

  This is why the dark is a gift and a curse. Being alone brought me clarity. This is good. However, sometimes when the fog is cleared it reveals something you hoped you’d never see. I forced myself back to the computer. I just needed to silence my thoughts and relax. Then I felt it, someone watching me. My mother was very good at that. I placed a small mirror on my desk so I could see when she stood in my doorway looking at me, forever vigilant and nosey.

  She was another woman in my life that was just looking out for me. I knew she thought something was wrong with me. It was the way she stared at me as if watching a mental patient behind mirrored glass.

  “Is this what you plan to do all night, Timothy Michael Hayden?”

  There was that lecture tone and she called me by my full name. I knew what she was going to say next, word for word.

  “How many nights are you going to spend alone in your room?”

  My mother is, was, a school teacher. So along with diagnosing problems in children, she also researched a lot on that laptop of hers. I never understood how a forty-four year old mother of two could spend more time on the internet than I do.

  “Let me guess: you have been reading that website again about how online gaming leads to anti-social behavior?”

  She crossed her arms and glared at me. I was not sure if she was more upset about what I said or the fact that I hadn’t turned away from my monitor.

  “Don’t get smart with
me. You know exactly what this is about. Timothy, you are a twenty year-old young man. You should be outside, not cooped up in your room. It’s not healthy and it’s not normal.”

  She’s been concerned with healthy and normal since my father was killed.

  “It’s quiet… was quiet and peaceful in my room. I don’t see what the problem is.”

  Then a problem became visible. My sister, Ashley, was twice as nosey as my mother. At least she had somewhat of an excuse being sixteen.

  “Hey, I know you are going to say no, but you can hang out with me if you want.”

  Ashley had changed since dad’s death. The brightness in her face had faded a little. She was much closer to mom and had been nicer to me. It’s as if she was carrying even more on her shoulders than just dealing with dad’s death. I could see them both looking at me, they knew I could see them and yet they stared at me as if I couldn’t. They acted as if they really needed to watch out for me.

  “Its fine, Ashley, if your brother really wishes to waste his youth at the computer then I guess it’s his decision.”

  She smiled at Ashley as if thanking her for the sentiment.

  “Speaking of wasted youth Ashley, you make sure to be safe tonight and remember your curfew is at eleven. If you’re late again you will be wasting away in your room for a month.”

  I’m not an expert, but I am, was, a people watcher. It amazed me how my mother could switch from a partnership with Ashley, watching over me, to a dominant subordinate relationship when addressing her.

  ”I just wanted to extend the offer and before you ask mom, I hear you and I will be back on time.”

  I understood that my mother had a reason to be cautious. It was just the three of us and I knew that being alone, without dad, was something she never wanted.

  My mother wasn’t done with me yet. With a gentle tap on her shoulder Ashley smiled and disappeared from the doorway. Mom walked behind me and sat on the foot of my bed. I couldn’t see her though the mirror anymore.

  “When did my children become so smart-alecky?”

  I knew I wouldn’t be able to play anymore tonight. My eyes focused back on the monitor then I saw her. Ashley was standing in the hallway. I could see her shadow cast into the doorway. What was she listening for? There was too much silence. The bed creaked as my mother leaned over toward me. I typed away pretending to be oblivious.

  “Can’t you even take a moment away from your computer to talk with me?”

  She would always say that we didn’t talk, that I was distant. Honestly, that wasn’t true. She was the one who spent all day in her room on her laptop. Hell, she spent more time on her computer than I did on mine.

  “I am talking with you.”

  It got silent again after I said that. There was nothing else I could do, but turn around and face her.

  “Timothy, you know I only ask these questions because I love you. We have been through so much. Much more than most families have gone through. It’s easy to just tell others and ourselves we are dealing with it, that we’ve moved on. You’re twenty years-old and up until your father died you were an outgoing young man. It’s not just that you want to spend your nights at home, you seem, withdrawn. We use to talk for hours about everything and lately you don’t speak to me or your sister. I just want to make sure that you are okay.”

  Maybe she was right. Her concerned expression told me she believed it. Perhaps we did talk less, but that was because there was nothing to say. She just looked at me, searching my eyes for something, but I had nothing for her.

  “I can understand if you preferred speaking with someone else besides me. Why don’t you call up your friends?”

  She got a facial response from me; it was annoyance. I leaned back in my chair looking at my ceiling fan.

  “The guys are… busy. Besides, there is nothing to talk about mom. Really, there isn’t. We’ve gone over this before and I have dealt with this. Dad was killed by a drunk driver. It’s as simple as that. You started focusing on whatever research you’ve been doing to help you deal with it. Ashley holds it inside and tries to support the family. I had my issues, but I dealt with that. Sure I was angry. I hated the man who did it, but I realized there was nothing I or any of us could do.”

  I paused for a moment. I could see a look in her eyes that felt familiar. It was a look I often gave her. The look that said it’s all been heard before only, she placed a “but” after it.

  “I know you heard me say it before mom. Maybe I’m just different than the people you read about on your laptop. Losing dad like that was awful, but I can’t dwell on it because I need to move on, we need to move on. I think about dad every day. When I close my eyes I can see him, but I still do what I need to do to keep moving forward. Most of the time I am surrounded by people, at work, school and with Christine and my friends. With all that is it so crazy to just want some time to myself?”

  I didn’t even notice my voice raised and my breathing increased. I turned away from her upset. Why was she projecting her problems onto me? I could hear her get up from the bed and walk toward the door. I turned to see her standing in the doorway facing out. She looked back at me. The look on her face, it was almost like she failed in something she was trying to tell me.

  “No, there is nothing wrong with that, but there is also nothing wrong with asking for help. I want you to know I still turn to God because he gives me strength and helps me find answers. When I pray and give myself over to him, I feel a clarity that allows me to understand myself. I won’t stop worrying about you, Timothy. It’s what mothers do.”

  She forced a smile on her face.

  “I will always make sure my favorite son is okay.”

  Comedy is often a defensive mechanism. I’ve used it many times, when I used to care.

  “I’m fine mom, believe me.”

  She wasn’t satisfied, but she decided to stop. I knew she would try again later.

  She stepped into the hallway as I sat back down at my desk then spun around and called out to her.

  “Oh, and mom, I’m your only son, so of course, I’m your favorite.”

  I returned a forced smile. She slowly closed her eyes as if what I said had hurt her, but that was impossible I said nothing hurtful. It felt as if her eyes were closed forever. When they finally opened she looks as if she was going to cry. I felt the urge to get up and comfort her when she turns and stepped out of sight.

  I turned back to my monitor and just stared at the screen. Maybe I should have talked to her, not about my issues, but about hers.

  “She really doesn’t get it, does she?”

  I had forgotten that Ashley was listening.

  “She complains that you spend too much time on your computer and right now she’s in her room talking to Aunt Jackie typing away on her laptop.”

  I ignored her hoping she would go away. When she entered my room I wanted to turn around and ask her why she was listening in. She knew about the mirror as well and walked behind me pushing the back of my chair.

  “You don’t have to be a jerk. I’m not the one bothering you.”

  That statement gave me a chuckle. I spun my chair around and looked at her.

  “Oh, you’re not?”

  She looked more and more like mom every day. She even tied her hair just like mom did when she went off to school. There have been so many effects from dad’s death. Ashley’s youthful face and innocent smile had been lost.

  “What do you want Ashley? Why this interest in me all of a sudden. A few months ago you were in your own little world and now you want to spend your Friday nights with me?”

  There was another look that I had seen more recently. Whenever I talked about the recent past or something that happened a few months ago, they would both look at me with shock and surprise. They had been getting better at hiding it, but I could still see it.

  I tried my best to ignore it and did the same that night. Ashley sat down in the same spot mom was and looked up at me. Was she going
to lecture me now?

  “I overheard your conversation with mom. You were right about me. After dad died I did keep everything bottled in.”

  She stopped and looked toward the ground. This wasn’t about me. She had something on her mind that was bothering her.

  “What is it, Ashley?”

  She looked up at me.

  “Life was hard enough before all of this. You may be lucky enough to be able to deal with it, but mom and I aren’t like you.”

  I was right. They were projecting. They had trouble dealing with their own issues and so they put them on me. I crossed my arms in arrogance.

  “It’s not luck. Why would you not be able to deal, or adapt? What do we accomplish by thinking about it over and over? Nothing, all we do is focus on something we cannot change. We waste time searching for answers we will never find. When a tragedy happens people either adapt or they collapse. Some become advocates like that girl whose sister fell onto the elevated train tracks. She didn’t even die, but now she spends all her waking moments speaking out about rail safety. Tell me… really, what is she accomplishing?”

  “What if it isn’t about accomplishing anything? Maybe for her it is a way to make a tragic situation have some meaning. It’s possible she does it to help her deal with it, to help her heal.”

  She didn’t understand. I couldn’t help but shake my head is disagreement.

  “That isn’t dealing with it and she isn’t healing. I wanted to go after the man who killed dad, but both you and mom convinced me to let it go. Even Aunt Jackie told me to let it go and she is always going on about some legal case she is working on. In the end though, all of you were right. I had to deal with the problem myself and work it out from within. You can’t look to others to solve your own problems even if they were directly involved.”

  Ashley’s face grimaced when I mentioned the man who killed dad. It was no secret that the subject still bothered her, but I have seen her talk about dad’s death before. It seemed like she only looked that way when I specifically talked about it. Perhaps I was too blunt when talking to her about it. She was a teenager after all.