Seasons After Fall

by Reginald Linsao

  She leaned her head onto Rowan’s shoulder. “I know you feel responsible for wanting to help your mom out. You’ve been this way your whole life. But have you ever stepped back to think about how she feels? About how she wants her son to live his life? You’re burdening yourself with too many future responsibilities that you can’t even handle the ones you have right now. You’ve been carrying too many burdens your whole life that you couldn’t even see the cliff that you were approaching—and now that you’re there, it’s fucking frightening. Rowan, this fear has brought out the worst in you, and I’m gonna say it again—we need to get you help. You’ve become—”

  “Caitlyn, stop.”

  “Why?” She jumped off of the car and took Rowan’s hands into her own. “Why should I stop?”

  He released her hands. “I get everything that you’re saying, okay? Just—just stop. I don’t want to hear it. God, I don’t want to hear it.”

  “But—”

  “Please. We’ll continue this conversation another time. I just want to relax, and I can’t do that right now. I just can’t.”

  Before Caitlyn was able to press Rowan even further, Marcus came outside. He glared at Rowan, who remained seated on his car.

  “What the hell are you still doing here?”

  Caitlyn got in front of Marcus. “We’re waiting for my brother—he’s picking us up.”

  “You both better be gone by the time I check back out here again.”

  “Relax,” said Caitlyn. “We’re leaving, okay?”

  “And get off of my car, Rowan. Seriously. Stop causing problems for a change.”

  Rowan gritted his teeth. “I’ll get off of it when I leave.”

  For a split second, Marcus looked as if he was about to argue with Rowan again, but he went back inside his house instead. Caitlyn figured that he didn’t feel like ruining his night any further by fighting Rowan, but she didn’t want to make any assumptions.

  “Well, I guess that means I’ve got to call my brother,” she said.

  Rowan said nothing. Caitlyn sat back down next to him and dialed a number on her phone. “Hey, Duncan? Can you come get me and Rowan at Marcus’ house?”

  There was a short pause before she spoke again. “Yeah, around there. We’ll see you soon, okay? Bye.”

  Caitlyn spent a moment adjusting her shorts before placing her phone back into her pocket. “Do you wanna stay over at my place?”

  “We have school tomorrow,” said Rowan. “Maybe another day.”

  “Sure. I’ll hold you to that, then.”

  It wasn’t long before Duncan came, as Caitlyn’s home was just a few blocks away. Rowan climbed into the backseat of the car and was greeted by a tall, lanky young man who shook his hand from the driver’s seat.

  “Hey, I heard you got into Harvard. Congratulations!”

  “Thanks, I guess,” said Rowan, shrugging as Duncan pulled out of the driveway.

  “This world really needs people like you, you know? People who are going to strive to do something great—and I know you’ll do something great.”

  “Will I?”

  “At a school like Harvard? Hell yeah. It’s up to our generation to fix everything terrible that’s happening around the world, isn’t it?”

  “Chill out,” muttered Caitlyn. “That’s a lot of pressure to think about.”

  Rowan adjusted his seatbelt. “He’s right, though. The world is a ticking time bomb if we don’t do anything about it.”

  “Let’s not think about that, okay? We’re still high school kids. Fixing the world isn’t our job—not yet at least.”

  For the rest of the ride, Rowan was silent. He periodically stared outside of the car window, but he quickly lost interest in the meaningless blob of buildings that sped by, so he turned his head to the passenger side mirror to stare at Caitlyn, who was looking down at her phone. Rowan thought about the slim possibility that he would never see his best friend again after their high school graduation, and it filled him with a sadness that had already been permeating the night.

  The car’s headlights soon illuminated a long row of apartments.

  “See you tomorrow, all right?” said Caitlyn.

  “Yeah. Bye guys.”

  Duncan waited for Rowan to close the door. Rowan watched them as they sped off down the road, and he stayed outside for a few minutes before he climbed up the stairs to his family’s apartment.

  Bells chimed as Rowan shut the front door. He looked at his sister, who was digging through her backpack in order to make sure she had everything ready for her commute to San Francisco the next morning. She was actually almost done with college, but she and Rowan never really talked about it that much. They usually just did their own thing.

  “Hey Allie,” said Rowan.

  “Oh, hey,” she said. “How was the party?”

  “It was good.”

  “Do you want any cookies? I baked some earlier.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  Rowan passed by his father, who was in the midst of a coughing fit while browsing an article on his computer about the speculated military strength of North Korea—an article that piqued Rowan’s interest enough to make him glance at a few words and phrases: chemical warfare, deadly, biological, disaster. He regretted his curiosity.

  “You’ve seriously got to go see a doctor about that cough already,” said Rowan.

  “No need. Too expensive.”

  Rowan felt like saying more to his dad, but he didn’t quite know what to say. He didn’t really speak to his parents that frequently anymore. In fact, the longest conversation he had with them in the past few years only lasted for ten minutes. School was too time-consuming, and it made him feel a little distant from his family. That wasn’t to say that life was only time-consuming on his end, however, as his parents were always at work, too. All of their schedules never really aligned that well.

  The boy went up to his mother, who had fallen asleep at the dinner table. A river of drool drenched the receipts and coupons that were laid out in front of her.

  “Hey mom, I’m gonna go to sleep, all right?”

  She lifted her head off of the table and wiped her lip with the collar of her shirt. “Don’t forget to do your homework, okay?”

  “Already did it.”

  “Okay, good night then.”

  “Night.”

  Rowan always returned home to find his mother sleeping, as she worked twelve hour shifts in a shipping warehouse. She had once overworked herself to the point of getting a stroke, and despite Rowan and Allie’s protests to get her to stop working, she insisted that neither of her children should get a job to help pay for the bills, as she wanted them to focus on their schoolwork. Many years ago, she had moved from the Philippines to the U.S. with the dream of a better life for her future children. There was nothing more that she wanted—though, Rowan decided at an early age that he wanted to provide her with a better life, too, as he didn’t find it fair to allow himself to reap and hoard the benefits of the seeds that she had painstakingly sown all these years. He loved his mother, and he didn’t want her to suffer any longer.

  He needed to succeed. There was no other option. The only question he had now was whether or not he was actually capable of doing so, and as he sprawled on the couch to go to sleep, his tears delayed his rest for another agonizing hour.

  2

  Rowan awoke to a pulsating and ear-piercing wail outside of his home. It was a sound test from the air-raid siren that was built by the city just a few months ago right on the corner of his street, and though Rowan had heard the noise so many times before, he was unable to drown it out with his thoughts on this particular morning. Could the siren actually be a real warning this time? He wasn’t sure—but maybe Caitlyn would have called him if it was.

  The boy slowly turned to his side and wiped the crust out of his eyes. He had subconsciously snoozed the ten alarms that had blared from his phone in the past half-hour, but on
ce he was finally able to make out what time it was, he leapt from the couch and rushed to get dressed before running out of the house with his backpack just barely hanging on to his left shoulder.

  The glacial, December morning winds sent shivers down Rowan’s entire body. As he passed by the siren that was still ringing in his ears, he wondered whether or not such a loud warning would even be enough. Was he and his family even safe here? After all, there was no way that his apartment building was going to fully protect them from any bombs, was it? Everyone here would just get completely annihilated—his family included.

  Rowan looked at his phone. He was only halfway to school and the late bell was going to ring in just five minutes, so he sped up his pace. Was it even worth going to school at this point? What if he didn’t even survive to make it to his graduation? It seemed silly having to worry about going to college when so much shit was going on in the world, but Rowan still had his eyes set on helping out his family. He had to focus on worrying about college, no matter how scary the idea of total war was. It wasn’t as if this was the first time that the world was on the brink of destruction. There was likely never going to be a good or right time to go to university.

  Rowan finally made it to school and to his classroom, where he beheld a poster on the door that depicted a vast, open sea. On it was a quote, but Rowan hadn’t been able to read it even once during the school year as it was not often that he had the time to stand in front of the door to dissect it. He was always late.

  The bell rang as soon as he entered the classroom, and he took a seat in his desk next to his friend Davina, whose thin blouse was a statement against the frigid weather. She smiled at him. Behind her, however, was Marcus, and he didn’t give Rowan the same uplifting attitude.

  Ms. Helmsley, their AP English Literature teacher, got up from her desk and grabbed a stack of papers. At first, nobody was quite sure what she was passing out, but it became apparent once everyone started making expressions of disappointment. She was passing out their essays from two weeks ago. These essays were supposed to give them an idea of how well they would do on the AP test in order to see if they would receive college credits, and it was also one of the highest weighted assignments they had for the end of this semester. The grade they received would most likely be the grade they would get on their report card, which was undoubtedly a big deal to every single one of them.

  Ms. Helmsley handed Rowan his paper. Davina put both of her thumbs up in anticipation for Rowan’s bright smile, but what she received instead, however, worried her. Rowan was frozen in place, staring blankly at his essay. Davina hoped that he was just spacing out, but Rowan was extremely well aware of what he was looking at. It was a “C” at the very top of his paper.

  Rowan could no longer breathe. A “C?” There was no way. His fingers curled and clenched onto the fabric of his jeans, and he could hardly hear anyone over the sound of the loud, forceful thuds against his chest. His vision darkened, and beads of sweat began to trickle down his neck. A “C” wasn’t really a big deal to most people, but to Rowan, it was the worst thing that could possibly happen to him right now. An awful grade meant that he wasn’t going to finish the semester with perfect grades. He was going to receive his first “B,” and then Harvard would most likely rescind his admission. His mother was going to be disappointed, Caitlyn was going to be disappointed—everyone was going to be disappointed. He wasn’t going to be successful, and that’s what really broke him. How was he supposed to help his family out now? Harvard was his ticket to ensuring a prosperous life for his parents, and if that ticket was about to be taken away from him, then he had nothing left for them.

  His jaw clenched shut. He needed to talk to Ms. Helmsley about this. He needed to make sure that he was going to finish with an “A” in the class. Ms. Helmsley was a really strict teacher, but there was no way that she wouldn’t give him a chance to improve his grade, was there? If she didn’t, then everything was over. He needed to talk to her right now—no matter what. He needed to be reassured that his future was safe.

  A gentle touch brought vision back to Rowan’s eyes. He looked over at Davina, who was whispering something to him, but he couldn’t quite make out what she was saying. The hell did she want? Was she going to back him up in his confrontation with Ms. Helmsley? No, she wouldn’t. Everyone in here cared about their grades, but not to the extent that Rowan did. Despite their disappointment with their performance, they wouldn’t confront Ms. Helmsley about it. Rowan knew that they would simply accept what they got.

  The once gentle touch became firmer—but this time, someone had grabbed hold of his shoulder. He turned and noticed that Caitlyn had gotten up from her seat—which was three seats behind him—and she didn’t seem to care that all eyes in the classroom were now looking at her.

  “Rowan, are you okay?” she whispered.

  Her palm was now lightly rested on the damp ridge of his upper back. Despite Caitlyn’s concern, Rowan still remained frozen in his seat. He just couldn’t stop thinking about his grade. This was going to change everything, was it not? His future was in Ms. Helmsley’s hands, and if she wasn’t on his side, everything was about to collapse.

  “You really aren’t as smart as you think you are,” said Marcus.

  Rowan shot out of his chair and stormed out of the classroom. He hated Ms. Helmsley for giving him a bad grade, but he hated Marcus even more for feeling as if the grade was justified. Rowan didn’t want him to be right.

  Caitlyn had followed the boy out of the classroom and grabbed him by the hand. “Come with me. I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer from you, okay?”

  Rowan wanted to refuse. He wanted to say no—he wanted to charge right back into class and grab Marcus by the neck. He wanted to bash his head onto his desk. He hated him—he fucking hated him.

  But Rowan couldn’t stop Caitlyn from dragging him to an isolated corner near the backside of the school. He couldn’t stop Caitlyn from holding him, and he couldn’t stop Caitlyn from drying his tears with the sleeve of her shirt. He wanted to speak to her, to tell her about what needed to be done, to tell her about how he was feeling—but all of his words were translated into coughs and chokes.

  Caitlyn held Rowan tighter, but that only made things worse. He forced himself away from her and began to wipe his tears with the neckline of his shirt, and although Caitlyn tried to hold him again, Rowan waved her off and hid his face on the wall beside him.

  “Rowan, please tell me what’s going through your mind. As soon as you’re ready, okay?”

  He turned around, tears still flooding down his cheeks. Tremors shot throughout his body, and it was only through clenching his fists that he was able to force a few words out of his throat.

  “I can’t take this shit anymore,” he moaned. “I can’t. I can’t.”

  “You’re going to be okay. I promise you, all right?”

  “Don’t make a promise you can’t keep,” said Rowan, gnashing his teeth. “I’m not going to be okay. I’m not.”

  Caitlyn held her hand out to him, but he didn’t take it. “Will you tell me why, then?”

  “Everything that’s been happening—I just—I just can’t anymore.”

  “Do you remember what I told you yesterday?”

  Rowan closed his eyes, but he didn’t want to think about that night. All it reminded him of was of the things he needed to do—his responsibilities. He needed to get perfect grades, he needed to do well in college, he needed to obtain a well-paying job, he needed to take care of his family, and he needed to make sure that he didn’t lose his friends and family in the process—but all of this was about to come crumbling down. His plans, his dream of a better future—he couldn’t see it anymore. It was all gone.

  “Caitlyn, don’t remind me of that shit.”

  “Don’t remind you of what? That I want you to speak to me?”

  “Okay then,” growled Rowan. “You want me to speak to you? You wanna know what the fuck I’m really thinking?” />
  “Yes,” said Caitlyn softly.

  Rowan wrapped his hands around his head and groaned. “My life is ruined. God, I know it sounds crazy. But can’t you see why, Caitlyn? Can’t you?”

  “I—”

  “Everything I’ve worked for, everything I’ve planned, everything I thought I was going to do—it was all for nothing. That “C” is going to fuck me over, Caitlyn. It seriously is.”

  “You just need to talk—”

  “My grade is going to drop in that class. I swear it. Ms. Helmsley doesn’t give a fuck. She’s an asshole. Even if she does decide to help me by providing me with extra work, I’m fucked. Do you know why? It’s because I have so much other shit to do—my scholarship essays, homework, studying, and God knows whatever the hell else I have to do. Don’t you realize that colleges can rescind your acceptance? What if Harvard sees that my grade dropped? They don’t take anything less than perfect. To be imperfect is to be inadequate. It’s always been like that.”

  Rowan tore at his skin with his fingernails. “If I decide to focus all of my efforts into this class by not doing my scholarship essays, then how the hell will I get the money for college? And what if I no longer have the time to do my homework or study for my tests and quizzes in my other classes? My grades will be fucked in those classes, too. And what if—”

  “Rowan, please stop what you’re doing—”

  “You told me to tell you what was going through my mind,” cried Rowan. “You told me! I—God, I don’t know what to do anymore. I hate Ms. Helmsley. And Marcus—holy fuck, don’t even get me started on him. He’s a piece of shit. Did you hear what he said?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “I want to fucking kill him. I’m going to kill him. He can’t get away with saying shit like that. He can’t.”

  “Don’t say that, Rowan. You don’t mean it.” Caitlyn tried to comfort Rowan with another hug, but he pushed her away. “You don’t want to kill Marcus, Rowan. Don’t say things like that. Please don’t say things like that. You don’t mean it.”