by Tracey Smith
“What’s your name boy?” the officer asked.
“Tyler Stone.” I replied.
“Well Mr. Stone, let’s get a few things clear. You’re not here for summer break, I’m not your friend, and you won’t need that.” He said as he snatched my bag.
“You will call me Sergeant. Those uniforms are all you will wear. You will keep them clean and pressed. You’ll have no need for any personal items, so I’ll just keep these for you.” He said holding up my bag.
I just nodded.
“Yes, sir?” he coaxed.
“Yes, sir.” I replied.
He nodded seeming pleased with my response and walked over to harass the kid next to me.
I had just enough time to change into one of the provided uniforms when a loud horn blew.
“You will hear that horn every morning when it is time to get your sorry butts out of bed.” Sergeant was addressing the whole room now.
“You will have exactly 10 minutes to dress and report to the mess hall for breakfast. 15 minutes to eat and then you will receive your work assignments for the day. You will work until you hear that horn blow again and you will have exactly 5 minutes to report back to the mess hall for lunch. If you’re late, you don’t eat. After lunch you will complete your work assignments. If you finish before the dinner bell you are allowed free time. We work hard here, so don’t count on it. Showers after dinner. I will not tolerate horse play. Lights out after showers. Any questions?” no one dared to ask one.
“Good. Follow me.” Sergeant ordered and we all followed him out single file for a tour of the grounds. We were shown where the mess hall was located and the work supply buildings, the showers and finally back to the barracks.
“This will be your only tour, so I hope you were paying attention. Do not ask for directions, and do not be late.” With that final order Sergeant turned and left us all to wonder what the hell we’d gotten ourselves into.
We didn’t have long to dwell on our situation because the dinner horn blew and we all jumped up to find our way to the mess hall. The food sucked, but I ate it all. Showering was a humbling experience. One long room with multiple shower heads, no dividers, no privacy.
“5 minutes to get clean and get out.” Sergeant informed us from the door.
Some smart ass decided to whip someone with a towel and Sergeant made him do 100 push-ups. He definitely wasn’t joking about not tolerating horse play. After we showered it was back to the barracks for lights out.
It took me several hours to fall asleep, and when I finally did it seemed like only seconds later that the morning horn was blowing. I jumped up and dressed and reported to the mess hall as ordered. The food wasn’t any better than the night before, but I ate it silently. Some guy tried to complain about the food and Sergeant made him run 50 laps around the mess hall holding his tray of food over his head. Silence was definitely the best tactic around here.
After breakfast I received my work order for the day; shoveling gravel along a new stretch of road that they were getting ready to pave. I remembered how to find the work supply building and received my work gloves and shovel.
I worked silently all day until the lunch horn blew, and after lunch got right back to it. There was definitely enough work to fill the day and I worked right up until dinner. I was less embarrassed by the open showers this time and more grateful for the hot water against my sore muscles. I had no trouble falling asleep that night.
Each day proceeded on just like the first. My work orders varied, but were always some form of manual labor. I kept my head low, worked hard and didn’t speak. Some guys weren’t as smart. Sergeant had no patience for smart asses or complainers. I was glad not to be included in either of those categories. The years I had spent giving my parents the silent treatment had prepared me perfectly for this life.
After the first month I noticed my work assignments seemed to be getting easier. I was often assigned to kitchen duty or laundry. Both relatively easy jobs.
“You don’t say much do you kid?” I was surprised to hear Sergeants voice as I worked in the laundry room one day.
“No, sir.” I replied.
“I’m a good judge of character.” Sergeant said “And I can tell you don’t belong here. Been doing this a lot of years and I can tell the ones that will be back.”
I didn’t reply. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to.
“This came for you.” Sergeant said handing me an envelope.
I took it from him cautiously.
“You’ve earned a personal item.” He explained.
“Thank you sir.” I said.
“Keep working hard, summer will be over soon. You won’t be back.” And with that Sergeant left me to the laundry.
I turned the envelope over in my hand looking at it like something magical that might disappear at any minute. I noticed that the postmark was dated just a few days after I’d arrived. Carefully I opened the letter.
It was from Destiny.
Chapter 7: Letters
The summer I had spent in Los Angeles had been amazing. I loved performing with the Symphony. I knew now more than ever that it was what I wanted to do. I couldn’t imagine myself doing anything else. The summer had been almost perfect. I tried to forget that awkward last weekend I’d spent there. Tried to forget how heartbroken Tyler had looked when I rejected him. Tried to forget how hurt I’d been when he hadn’t come to watch my final performance. I tried, but I failed.
I had grown so close to Tyler over that summer. I didn’t realize how much I’d miss him once I got home. I missed how grumpy he was in the mornings. I missed holding his hand as we walked around his neighborhood. I missed the late nights we would stay up talking, laughing, and sharing stories. I even missed the way he smelled. For some reason I couldn’t forget how nice he smelled when we would snuggle up on the couch to watch a movie. I missed everything about him, yet I was too afraid to call. Too scared to pick up the phone and see how he was doing, what he was doing.
I longed to hear his voice again, to talk to him about my day, to hear about his. But I had hurt him. I knew I had and I didn’t know how to fix that, how to change that. I wished so badly that he hadn’t kissed me, that things hadn’t ended that way.
I wanted to talk to him on the phone. To write him letters. To make plans to spend the weekend or the holidays. But now I didn’t know if he ever wanted to see me again. And I was too chicken to find out. So I didn’t call. Neither did he.
Fortunately school was a convenient diversion from my torment. My senior year was full of distractions. Of course I was in the school band again, plus my private lessons, so to my great pleasure music filled most of my time. When I wasn’t practicing or performing I was working weekends at my mom’s bakery.
Mom had a manager Jessica who had worked at the bakery since before I was born and she handled the daily baking and operation of the shop. Mom only handled the specialty cake orders for which she’d become famous around San Diego. I worked the register on the weekends.
In addition to working at the bakery and studying music I was also consumed with my preparations for college. I wanted to go to Juilliard. My parents were absolutely terrified by the idea of me moving to New York but ever since I was eight years old I had dreamed of going to Juilliard so they’d had many years to prepare. Even still with the date drawing closer I could see the anxiety in their faces anytime I talked about it.
With everything I was juggling I didn’t think I could possibly be any busier. Then I met Blake. He had transferred in to my school mid-semester and was in my world history class. One day I overheard him talking about how his family had just moved from New York. I was fascinated to learn as much as I could about the city that I would soon be calling home and he seemed eager to tell me all about it.
After class he asked me if I’d like to have dinner with him so he could tell me more about the city. We began dating after that and between Blake, work and my music I barely had time to sleep let alone think.
Time flew by and I couldn’t believe when the holidays came up so quickly. It was almost Thanksgiving and Mom was all geared up for a huge production. She insisted that this was a special Thanksgiving because it would be my last one home before going off to college. Everything lately was becoming a momentous occasion in her eyes. Mom also loved any excuse to cook a huge meal.
“I called your Aunt Claire to invite them up for Thanksgiving.” Mom told me as we prepped the turkey the night before the big day.
My heart froze. I stopped breathing. Would Tyler be at my house tomorrow?
“But Uncle Charlie couldn’t get the time off. Can you believe that? He can’t take time off for Thanksgiving?” Mom said exasperated.
I let out the breath I’d been holding.
“It is football season.” I said, not sure why I felt so relieved.
“I know, but he really should try to spend more time with his family. Claire says Tyler is running with a bad crowd this year. He’s hanging out with some older boys and she’s worried that he’s going to get into some trouble.”
My heart ached when she said his name. It had been months since I’d seen him. I’d been so busy lately I hadn’t really even thought about him. For some reason I felt a little guilty about that. It was strange. I wasn’t sure why the thought of seeing him made me so anxious. Surely he was over whatever heartbreak I’d caused. He probably hadn’t even thought about it since I’d left. It was nothing really, just a misunderstanding.
“But she did promise that they would try to make it down for Christmas. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
My heart started beating faster. At least Christmas was a month away. I had time to prepare for seeing Tyler. But why did I need time to prepare?
The preparation turned out to be unnecessary. They didn’t make it down for Christmas either, again because of Uncle Charlie’s work obligations. But Tyler was back in my thoughts again.
I wondered if enough time had passed that I could call him now, or maybe write him a letter. Surely he couldn’t be mad anymore. But had too much time passed? How would I explain why I had waited so long to talk to him? And if he wanted to talk to me why hadn’t he called?
I realized how much I still missed Tyler. I wondered how he was doing, but pride kept me from calling. My phone number hadn’t changed, and he hadn’t called me either.
Mom had been really disappointed that Uncle Charlie and Aunt Claire hadn’t come down for the holidays. To make up for it she began planning a big trip to the mountain cabin where we used to spend nearly every summer. We hadn’t all been there together since the summer before they had moved.
She coaxed a promise out of Aunt Claire that we would all meet up there this summer and spend at least one weekend together. Just like old times. I thought about those old times. The carefree summers spent in the mountains, exploring trails, swimming in the lake, roasting marshmallows. It really did feel like a lifetime ago.
I was looking forward to it. I was looking forward to one last summer in the mountains before going off to New York to begin my new life at Juilliard, it seemed a perfect way to say goodbye to my childhood.
One night as summer was drawing closer I was sitting on the couch with Blake watching a movie in the living room when I heard the phone ring. I got up to answer it but Mom beat me to it. I started to turn and head back to the living room until I heard the urgent tone of my mother’s voice.
“Claire what is it? What’s wrong?” Mom demanded into the phone.
I stopped in the hallway and listened.
“He what?” my mother exclaimed “Oh God, what are you going to do?”
What was going on? Was this about Tyler? I strained to hear my mother’s side of the conversation.
“Well of course it’s not your fault… He’s old enough to be held responsible for his own actions.”
So this was about Tyler.
“Well maybe that is for the best.” I could hear the reluctance in my mother’s voice. I knew her well enough to know when she was holding back. I was dying to know what was going on. I inched a little closer wishing I could hear what was being said on the other end of the line.
“Destiny?” my father’s voice startled me and I spun around to face him
“I was just… uh…” I stammered. “Oh Dad, something’s going on. It’s about Tyler. Mom’s on the phone with Aunt Claire now.” My father’s amused expression immediately turned to one of concern.
“Why don’t you go back in the other room with Blake, I’ll figure out what’s going on.”
“Oh. Blake…” I’d totally forgotten he was even here. “Yeah, okay.”
I slowly walked back into the living room, completely overwhelmed with my concern for Tyler. Hadn’t Mom said something before about him hanging around with a bad crowd? Had he gotten into some kind of trouble?
“Hey Destiny you missed the best part!” Blake exclaimed as I walked into the living room. “That dude totally just got his head chopped off! Want me to rewind?” Blake asked referring to the ninja movie he’d rented, totally oblivious to my distraction.
“No, that’s ok. Actually, I’m not feeling well. Do you mind if we finish the movie some other time?” I asked, just ready for him to leave so I could figure out what was going on.
“Oh. Yeah. I guess… Is it alright if I take it with me? I mean do you mind if I watch it without you?” he asked looking disappointed about turning the movie off.
“No, that’s fine go ahead. I’ll see you at school Monday.”
“Okay.” He shrugged ejecting the disc from the player.
I walked him to the door and was relieved when he was gone and I could go find my parents.
“Oh Michael, it’s so terrible.” I heard my mother crying as I walked into the room.
“What’s going on?” I asked. I felt cold, numb. My mother rarely cried.
“Oh Honey,” my mom said wiping the tears from her cheeks “it’s Tyler. He’s gotten into some trouble. He stole a car and he’s been arrested.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Tyler wouldn’t do that. Would he? I realized it’d been almost a year since I’d seen him last, since I’d talked to him.
“What’s going to happen to him?” I asked my voice barely above a whisper.
“Charlie is insisting on sending him to this summer military program designed for juvenile delinquents.” My mother shook with fresh sobs and my father pulled her closer to comfort her as she cried.
I wrapped my arms around myself.
“That’s not fair!” I insisted finding my voice again “Tyler’s not a juvenile delinquent!” Was he?
“Destiny it’s not for us to judge. I’m sure his parents are doing what they think is best. Tyler’s had a rough time these last few years…” my father trailed off and I could tell even he had a hard time justifying the decision they had made.
“It’s not fair!” I said again realizing it was a wasted effort.
I turned and stormed out of the room and ran up the stairs to my bedroom. The thought of Tyler being locked away in some military camp had my heart aching and I couldn’t hold the tears back. I thought about my childhood friend and of the boy I knew last summer. What had happened to him?
Pride would not stand in my way this time. I decided I would write him. It was the least I could do. It was all I could do, I realized with despair. I didn’t even know if he could receive letters, but I would write.
It seemed silly to write as if nothing had happened, but at the same time I didn’t want to pepper him with questions about what he’d done. So while my mind raced with those questions I wrote about everything but.
I told him about my plans to attend Juilliard, about my busy schedule at school, about working at the bakery. I told him all about Chance and how he’d charmed every teacher in the second grade and even had a few little girls following him around already. I simply wrote to him about anything and everything that was happening in my life. Everything, except Blake.
/> My letters to Tyler became like a diary for me. I wrote to him every week, filling him in on the most inconsequential details of my days. He didn’t write back. I didn’t even know if he received the letters I sent, but still I wrote.
Plans for our summer trip to the mountains went ahead as scheduled. Tyler would not be coming with his parents of course, and that just didn’t feel right to me. It wouldn’t be the same, not like old times at all without Tyler there. I was no longer looking forward to the trip. But it was important to my mom, and she insisted that it would be good for Claire and Charlie to have the support of their family around them during this difficult time.
I’ll admit I was angry with them. I felt like “this difficult time” was all their fault. Sending their son off to some military camp like he was a lost cause. I knew Tyler had done something wrong, something very wrong, but I was sure he hadn’t meant to. He couldn’t have. I may not have seen him recently, but I knew who he was and I knew he wasn’t a bad person. Didn’t they know that too?
I tried not to mention the trip to Tyler in my letters. I didn’t want him to know that life was simply going on without him, as if he didn’t matter, as if he wasn’t an integral part. I was so angry for him, angry for feeling like he’d just been pushed aside and forgotten, an inconvenience, an embarrassment. He wasn’t any of those things, he was their son and I was going to tell them that when I saw them. It just wasn’t right.
A summer storm was raging as we drove to the cabin. The rain poured down so ferociously the windshield wipers couldn’t keep up. Mom begged Dad to pull over and wait out the storm but the radio was telling us that this storm wouldn’t pass for several hours and we were almost there.
I could barely see the headlights of Aunt Claire and Uncle Charlie’s car as they followed us up the steep winding mountain road. Despite the dangerous conditions my thoughts were still riveted on Tyler. I thought about all the things I was going to say to them once we made it to the cabin.
The rain picked up, you couldn’t even see the road beneath the torrents of water that were pouring down the mountainside. I had never seen a storm this bad in all the years we’d come here. I looked behind us again, but this time I didn’t see Claire and Charlie’s car. They must have pulled over. We should have.
