City Breath

         School was over two weeks ago and finals have passed. Thank god. I don't feel too good about it, but I think my overall cumulative GPA will hold enough weight for me to get into a good state school. My aunt wasn't really on my case about studying, but I know I did enough to get by. Tim wasn't much of a help either. Always calling me, always stoned, always wanted to do something other than study and get this shit over with. Too much shit is going on in my life anyway. I haven't heard from my dad in weeks so I don't know his physical state. I guess he is doing fine. He was due for surgery this week to fix some broken bones in his back after THE accident. Parts of me feel awful for him because he has nobody there to care for him, well, that cute asian nurse, but other than her, NOBODY. Tim's parents say they plan on going over to the hospital to visit him, but they are scared to leave their living rooms so I doubt thats going to happen. I made an agreement with myself. After my first week of work, I will pay my dad a visit. I was too busy trying to get high off the summer fumes. This was supposed to be the best summer before I left for college and promptly got lost with all of the other teenagers looking for their souls in California. A soul searching mechanism that gets hatched in all of us at some point in our life. Its inevitable, but right now I need to focus on work and saving money.

          I started that week. My first day flew by in a matter of minutes it felt like. The filing they had was so backed up. A-Z was my part of the alphabet because there was nobody else there and the girl who was supposed to be training me was a complete cunt and didn't do anything. Seemed like on purpose she went out of her way to avoid me, oh well i thought. Who needs people like her anyway. She was the angriest, bible beater I have ever come in to contact with. There was a gay male in our office and she would say to herself aloud, "God help that man." It was pretty unbelievable to be honest with you. Besides her, everybody was really cool. The Senior Paralegal and main attorney were very nice to me and always willing to help. The job was not hard at all, but it took me a bit to understand the difference between a pleading and a document that was used in discovery. After my first few weeks things kinda started clicking. The senior paralegal was very cool. She always had my back and tried to help me out as much as possible. Even when I fucked up she was there to cover my ass because when my boss was out for blood he would hunt around the office looking like mad man. The blame game is the worst game ever invented. It gets inside the person and will not relent until that person has found what they are looking for. The innocent are the ones who usually trip and take the fall.

           On some Fridays my work people would sneak me vodka at my desk until my boss left. After he left we had great parties that vibrated with the city. The music, puff of a cigarette, punchline of a jab joke always was in sync with what the people of the outside world had planned. Everybody was in it for the same reason. The people I worked with loved getting high and drunk and the people I didn't work with loved to do the same. But one girl in particular really made me look forward to coming into work. She was a strawberry blonde chick named Carly. She was six years older than me and trying to make her way in this city, world. She was doing a good job at it. At 24 years old she was already a paralegal billing out at a nice rate. She dated this guy who she hated when they were in high school, but one Thanksgiving Break break brought them together. One thing I liked about her was that she always laughed at my jokes. I would call the clients who walked in a "poor mans" Rosie O'Donnell or Kate Blanchett and should would lose it. I would not say it to their faces of course, but she always gave me a deep hint that I had a shot. Not enough though. Always pulled away when she thought she was overplaying her hand, though never bluffing. She probably thought I was still a baby at 18 years old and going into my first year of college.

              We left the office around 8:30pm and decided to go run around town a little longer. Now, this was the mid 1990's so getting me into bars at the age of 18 and late night places wasn't really that difficult. We had our water bottles full of vodka with no chasers. Carly didn't need to do that, but she did it for the fun of it. We would take a pull and dance to the tune that was bouncing around the room. This was college before I left for college and I had zero expectations of it. Everybody out to have a good time was my idea of it anyway. To splash a little drink around and look for the first available girl/boy and pounce on that opportunity. Little did I know my opportunity was exploding in front of me. I was dancing with Carly when I looked around and everyone else I worked with was gone. It was just Carly and I. She asked me if I wanted another pull of her vodka. I obliged, but then told her she didn't need a water bottle full of outside booze. She was of age. But the next thing that came out of her mouth made me forget about the lights, the world, the people coke dancing around me. "I want to live like I were 18 again. I am fast on my way to getting married to a guy that I hated half a decade ago". I know alcohol speaks louder than the person wants, but this had me stunned. Here I am at 18 years old, out in the city with a girl who is eight years older than me while most of my friends are trying to beat Sonic the Hedgehog for the billionth time on Sega Genesis. Then it happened. I went in and kissed her. There was no stoppage of dancing and making out. She went with it. She fucking went with it.  She pulled back and said that it was about time. I couldn't believe it. Im not one of those guys that amaze myself sometimes, but jesus christ i couldn't fucking believe this happened. We danced a little longer and left the club. We walked around downtown and talked about what we wanted to do in life. She was struggling with her path, but told me to go towards what I really wanted. We sat down in an alley with our backs against the wall acting like we belonged there. The factory warehouses loomed over us like our biggest fears. The red brick shimmered off the moon and acted as a spotlight on Carly. Right on here. Directly on here making this moment perfect. The breathing of the dance clubs was still all around me. I wanted to keep going, but Carly said she had to go. We finished our vodka, kissed, hugged, laughed and left.

Chapter 4 - Takes a Day to Remember a Day

          A month has passed since my dads accident and nothing has changed. He is in a slight coma and hasnt really responded to anything. I have made a few visits to the hospital, but he cant speak yet. I read the newspaper to him to let him know whats going on in the world and thats about it. I think he used to read the sports page every morning, so I read him the box scores from the ballgames the night before. After I read the newspaper, I sit there in silence hoping for a reaction. I dont know what to say in these situations. Im too young to fathom whats really going on. The best i can do is hit on the cute asian nurse that comes in on the hour every hour to check in on my dad.

          It was two weeks until the end of the school year and I have been thinking about the summer. I wanted to find a job to try and escape this situation. I responded to a local law firm ad for a file clerk with no experience. Based on the description, I am pretty sure anybody could do this job. I got a call that Saturday afternoon and had an interview set for the following morning. I was praying like hell to land this gig as I was getting real tired of making pizzas on Friday and Saturday nightrs. The lady who interviewed me was pretty straight laced. She started out hard, but soon unravelled as i acted like i knew what i was talking about reciting lines from last night's NYPD Blue episode. We talked more about our interests than the actual job. We agreed on many things. She went on and on about asbestos and how much weight she's lossed. I had no idea what asbestos was til I googled it later on that night. She would bat her fancy eyes at me to see if i was still interested, but  not a word went by that i cared about. I just wanted to start working. She wasnt my type anyway. Twelve bucks an hour totally outweighed my interests of swooning her. With an older, troll, dumpy body, what could i do with that? Im 18 years old. I dont need to be gettin fussed around with a 46 year old. Who knows what sick motives she has. The door to the interview room opened and in walked the boss of the company. Older man, slightly graying brown hair. In decent shape. The vibe changed immediately. From playful, flirtacious to we all knew who the guy with the big cock was. Flaunting his skills and legal task force groups and legal words that didnt mean a damn thing to me, much like the words from the lady. From the looks of it, the interviewer was really in to it. Bobbing her head like a lemon in water. I felt totally out of place without words which is the most incredible feeling. An ad online led me to an interview that i know nothing about with people who i didnt know. Im glad they didnt ask me any real questions. They might not want to hire a wannabe.

          They asked me to start in two weeks. I pleaded to begin before the start date, but the person who was going to train me is out of town. We agreed and they had me sign some documents. Afterwards I went and got a coffee downstairs. The air that morning was smoothed over and hot. As soon as i walked out people were buzzing everywhere. I was happy to be apart of the work force. I wanted to follow every single one of them everywhere to see what they do. To see the american dream in a minute and to to see if they hated it like most do, as much as I will. As i sat there, my aunt called. I have been staying with her. I told her about my job. She sounded like she didnt care. She was talking very vaguely and quietly. I think she was just glad I was out of the house and she wanted to do her due diligence to check on me.

      
           The next day I got a call from my dad's doctor. I was happy because it got me out of fourth period history class. I sat in the vacant hall that smelled of summer. Our school colors zipped around the walls as the doctor said he had some good news. "Your Dad said he wanted to talk to you". I quickly replied, "About what?" "I dont know. Just come to the hospital as soon as possible. He says its important."

I walked back into class. After I told my teacher about what was going on, he told me to sit back down in my seat "Fifteen minutes left", he said. He wouldn't let me go due to finals preparation, so when the lunch bell rang in between 4th and 5th periods, I took to the parking lot to catch a ride from one of my friends to the hospital. I walked around from red mazda to white subaru when finally i ran into my friend Matt May. Matt was a funny kid. He always led the charge down the hall for "buffalo chicken wrap day" which is the best lunch day and only happens two times a year, once per semester.  Not the best looking kid, but always managed to snag the hot private school chicks. He comes from tons of money so that probably has something to do with it.  Always smelled of smoke and always acted like he didnt care. About what, im not sure, but i just knew he didnt care and everybody else knew as well. I hopped into his mom's black SUV and we sped off. I told him i needed a ride to the hospital by his house. He said, "Ok cool. We gotta stop by this sandwich place first. They got the best roast beefs in town". As we weaved through the private neighborhoods that lined the surrounding area of my school, Matt explained to me about everything that was going on in his life. He must have been lonely because he was telling me about his mon's infidelities and how his dad knew, but didnt care. He seemed torn over the entire situation. And who could blame the poor kid? I cant imagine living in an environment like that. False words and actions, from hugs to love words being tossed around like they had meaning. We went through the drive thru and the latina girl serving fries was actually cute. Matt threw her some lines and not to my surprise, it worked. They agreed to meet up later. Well, thats what he told me on the way to the hospital. I wasnt really paying attention when we arrived to the second window in the drive thru. I was mainly focused on what the hell I was going to say to my dad. We finally arrived to the hospital. I packed my sandwich into my backpack. Matt told me to call him this weekend. I told him I would for sure, but I had zero intention to. He was quickly a distant memory as I entered the hospital 10 feet away. Four doctors were standing outside the door by the required length indulging in their ironic bliss. The automatic doors opened and I entered that smell that immediately attaches you to your first breath. Its the most unwelcomed smell and sight. As I continued, I passed room after room of people that have already passed me before. I tried to find the elevator, but the thought of talking to my dad immediately ceased. I dont understand this part of me. I sold myself one hundred percent that i wanted to do this, but now I act like I forgot who i was speaking to. People think this is complicated, but I knew myself better now than i did five minutes ago. I turned around and walked back through the entrance to the freeing outside world. Ill be backk soon, I thought to myself. And soon couldnt come quick enough.

Chapter 3 - Bloodbuzz

    I woke in a panic. I wish people could feel how i felt. It was the day after my dad fell off the ladder. He was still in the hospital. They did some tests on him, but he wasnt responding. The following is what I remember:

    I was just getting home when i saw an ambulance out front. I didnt know what to think.  But in the absence of a fire truck, why else would an ambulance be parked in my tiny front lawn? Tim's parents were sitting in front of my house in obvious shock. They seemed to be waiting for someone and as I got closer, it was pretty obvious who they were waiting for. Tim's mother saw me approaching and told me to go inside. As i passed the ambulance and entered my house, i saw my dad strapped to the gurney. I stood there for a moment. He wasnt moving. Eyes closed. I walked into the living room and sat down. The knot in my stomach grew tighter. And for every passing word from Tim's mom, the knot got bigger. My blood began to buzz. I wanted to run, i wanted to vomit. I didnt know what to do, but i knew i wanted to do something. My head was in my hands and tears were dripping down my wrists. I couldnt help but feel guilty. Not because i did this or i could have prevented this, but to see my dad so helpless, strapped to a board. What if he doesnt walk again? All the time i could have spent with him. Immediately gone and never to be seen again. How does one cope with this? I tried grasping this question multiple times throughout the rest of the night, throughout 95 instances in my head on separate occasions , but i couldnt put a finger on how i truly felt. Maybe this is one of life's lessons when we learn about a new side of ourself. Maybe this is a time that i will never forget which will leave an indellible mark on my brain, soul. Maybe i will feel this moment for one second and then let it die. Ill feel the inspiration and act on that and act like ill never treat anyone else bad again. Put some use to a lesson. But we all know how that plays out. We are creatures of benign activity and shitty thoughts. I meant every word though. I will keep trying to mean those words, but all i know is that I will lead to dissapointment. Ill feel like I am in trouble. Like something i could have prevented, but was thrusted into my life no matter what. Now the burden perches atop my shoulders. Any chance to get out of this town evaporated. I was going to have to take care of my dad for the rest of my life. Get him the same groceries, from the same store, on the same days of every week. How am I supposed to do that? What do I have to say to the man who brings out the worst in me?

Chapter 2- Without Direction

I walk the halls in anonymity which is the norm for a lot of high school kids. For some reason the first thing that pops up into our intermittently pornographic mind is depression. Finding out they arent good enough for varsity tennis, basketball, soccer or what have you makes them depressed. Not getting asked out to prom or being denied by your dream date just adds on top of that. Why the is that so bad? Walking around with nobody knowing who you are? Sounds perfect. No responsibility, well other than science projects and shit, but i dont exactly call that responsibility. I slept my way through the first couple of periods and found myself gazing out the window before the bell rang for lunch.  Tim and I are the only two at our table. We are wedged in the southwest corner right by the Coke machine. Tuesdays are the worst. Most of our friends are out getting stoned at the deadend hangouts of the private neighborhoods that dot the outlying area of my school. We got a straggler at the end, but other than that, anonymity. My cousin Mary is in my class, but she only waves when she sees me. She is semi-popular with some hot friends, but she never goes out of her way to help me out. Our cafeteria is huge. A good 12-13 tables. You got your jocks, prom queens, hipsters, drama queens, geeks, hippy potheads and the rich kids who drive the same BMW to school. You know, that relatively new silver one that their rich, banker dad's just had to give them in order to make room for the newer model. And at my table it is always Tim and I. We grew up together and we always got along and so did our parents. He was never an athlete, so he is walking around the world of high school like a zombie like most kids our age. I try not to think I fall within that category, but its inevitable I guess. When you are a junior in high school what else do you know? You know your half way through the biggest pubescent growing period of your life. Then all of a sudden, you cheat your way through and they are handing you a diploma in the middle of a gigantic high school ice rink. Thats how they do it here anyway. Then its off to college. Where do you go? What are you going to study? Are you planning on going to law school? How am I supposed to know if I am going to go to law school five and a half years before I even make that decision? Then its what did you get on your ACT? What did you get on your SAT?  Dont get me started. My is already on my ass about my ACT scores. Since when is 28 not good enough? Im going to a state school to save him thirty two grand a year so he should consider himself lucky im not letting an ivy league school enshroud them financially. Unlike most kids in my class anyway.


I go to the local public school, Peabody High School. Even though there is a huge gathering of private high schools that surround this town, my school does its fair share of churning out ivy league calibur students. "Kids of the future" as they are referred to here. But a quick run down of the schools will give you a better idea of what kind of world I live in.  All the inner city kids go to Cathedral College Prep, the escalade driving, rich snobby athletes go to Incarnate High, the hot rich girls go to Visitation Academy, the hot slutty girls go to Ignatius High, the wannabe rich kids that arent rich at all go to Pennington High, and the smart stoner athletes go to St. Andrews High. I didnt know where I fell in so thats why I settled for the lesser-but-good public school. Plus, I cant imagine going to school with all guys. My dad always asked me, "Dont you wanna go to so and so high school? So and so's son is going there". Whenever he tells me that I just want to respond and tell him how much of a douche bag So and so's son is. But I never do. To my dad, I always settled for mediocrity so it really doesnt matter what I say. I never practiced enough, studied enough, on and on. But most of the time, my dad doesnt really say anything at all to express his displeasure of my mediocre abilities. Thats the second worse thing a parent can do. Number one: "Son, I am DISAPPOINTED in you". And number two: nothing. That ridiculous silence where you feel like they are telling you something by biting on their salad fork in disgust at dinner. The heavy sighs as they walk by you as you watch tv. But that silence speaks. It speaks words that you cant hear, but feel. What happened to the unconditional love a parent is supposed to show you no matter the circumstance? I live in a middle to upper class home and neighborhood. I do good in school. I have friends. Some, but they are friends. This will be something that I will only figure out with the unwinding of time. But thats no way to live. The conditioned mind is a scary thing and that is what im surrounded by. Sometimes I just want to pick up and leave with no plans, not even a map just to escape these pseudo people. I want to break away from the chains that Im so accustomed to. In my town, people marry their high school (sometimes grade school) sweet hearts more than eighty percent of the time. Ok, maybe not eighty percent, but if you did the math and canvassed every neighborhood here, more times than not, the guy answering the door would have his high school sweetheart right behind him. Its not necessarily a bad thing, but it doesnt suit who I want to be. Becoming someone and being someone are two different things. I dont see myself changing just to fit to the social norm, so being me is the only answer I know. The only navigational tool I own. When life becomes fragmented, thats when they start getting caught up in the bullshit.  I want to travel, I want to meet people from distant lands that know things that I dont know. That are from places only expert world travellers have seen. I want to tap into their minds and learn their ways, not handcuff myself to the boundaries of this town. Being out of your comfort zone is the best indicator that your doing something you thought you would never do. I think if I had a happy home things would be different, but you gotta take the good with the bad and thats exactly what I am doing. I know I am destined for better things, living in ways early nineteenth century vagabonds did. Thats what I want. Its like a drug I am feigning, yet never consumed.

My Heart, My Town - Based on true events

Chapter 1
   
                I wasnt sure whether I was between dreams or if this was IT. Panic and paranoia tried to find their voice in my head.  I felt at any given time I was going to drop to the floor. I was waiting for that one moment when you look deep into the forseeable future, but find nothing. Leaving you crippled to the thoughts that slay your basic instinct. Life looked really different and I felt like something could happen, but I couldnt figure out what that something was. I couldnt stop searching. I cant stop searching. I will never find it. THAT, I knew. The view from behind this lense was something I never experienced before. Maybe I have, but not this profound.  Looking outside of this very moment scared the shit out of me. Why was I experiencing this at such a young age? My heart rate sky rocketed. I took one deep breath, but nothing.  Therapists. How do they know know what is good for me when I dont even know what is good for me? Or, if what they think is good for me doesnt even work? I tried to relax. Slowly feeling like I was wallowing in the oxygen that I grew to know my whole life. Betraying me for seconds at a time. One foot in front of the other. I could do that. But a breath? I was having trouble with that one. Whats that joke about wrestlers? Cant chew gum and walk at the same time? Or was that about blondes? Here I am. Another existential crisis. Embattling myself about breathing, wrestlers and blondes.

                Somehow I was able to gather myself and figured out what to do next. I dressed myself in the dark of my room. The sun was perfectly up, peaking through my window. My dad didnt even try to say bye or hand me a sac lunch. I was happy because I didnt have to stop and talk. I left my house in a scurry acting like I knew what I was doing. The bus stopped on the corner and I could hear my name being smattered on the interior of the windows. I didnt look. I didnt care to look. The bus driver opened the doors, but I didnt answer his attempt to luring me in. I was a block down when the bus zoomed by me. An apple flew over my head followed by a, "DOUCHE!" I continued on. I didnt care. I walked by a wall painted with figures and a graffitied face with window eyes. I stopped and admired the artists creative thinking that led him to this endpoint. The windows looked like windows to me, but to someone else, eyes that matched a yellow freckle faced teenager. I wish I could think of things like that. But i settled for sports. Expensive trips to play in tournaments, to listen and watch as parents fought the other teams parents because Billy was on-side, to play against guys two times my size, to play until i shattered my fibula and tibia for a fifty-fifty ball in front of the top college coaches in the country. I still have a limp. And that "accident" (what i call it rather than me getting bitched over by a future number 1 pick) was 3 yrs ago. 

                 I walked into homeroom late that morning.  My body was finally coming to ease after assessing what my day consisted of. Class, class and more mind numbing class. I was happy because the teachers words were morphine to my mind that was more inclined to madness than to what was really going on. Finding things that kept me occupied was the best thing for me. Unless you know my fried Tim. Tim is the King of Buzz Kills, Assassin of Daydreaming. He is what people talk about when they talk about unconsciousness. See, me, I suffer from being too aware of myself and overanalyzing what colored socks I should wear to Sunday Mass. Tim, well, he talks because the filter in his head doesnt exist. He is the master of keeping you in the moment to listen to his rambling on of nonsense. Tim wanted to know where I was, why it took me so long to get to school and how I missed a good breakfast at the school cafeteria with "the badgers". That is what my group of friends call themselves. Dont ask me why. They are a bunch of white, overweight stoners. Not even a black kid was in the group. But what i told him and what I wanted to tell him were two different things. I told him the easiest answer because well, he was too stoned to understand the real one. He kept going on and on about a phish song while I sat there and acted like I cared. "Run Like An Antelope is one of the greatest songs ever due to its endless melodic storytelling", said Tim. The stoner was fuming out its emotional desire to be heard.  I couldnt stop thinking about that graffiti. Tim continued on. Now,  I was looking just over tim's right ear to Jenny. Not because I was bored or what could I do next to stop myself from punching Tim in the face, but because Jenny sat right behind him. I have had a crush on Jenny for as long as I can remember. Dirty blonde hair, in decent shape. Perfect smile. Totally underrated. All of a sudden, her boyfriend, who I acted like I forgot existed, came and wrapped his arms around her. Kissed her. Then the bell rang. Jenny rubbed my head as she walked by and said, "Hey".