Life; a simple yet intricate process. Simple if you’ve found your place, your passion and purpose. Intricate if you have absolutely no idea what you wanted to do with your life. And this was me, the latter I mean.
Growing up in Alaska, a state that was actually purchased, bought like an item by my government in the year 1867 from Russia, you’d think that’s quite an unusual fact that might somehow give my life a little nudge on this merry-go-round of excitement. Well It didn’t.
You see my Dad isn’t my biggest fan, I wouldn’t want to say he hates me outrightly but it sure as hell feels like he does sometimes. It was a Friday, after giving me one of his many lectures about what an ungrateful kid I am, and how much I have cost him in all my seventeen years of existence and whatnot.
He dragged me to work with him, to learn the value of hard work I presumed. I probably missed the whole point. All I picked up were in these order; chainsaws cutting; trees being wrestled; trees falling; dust raising; me sneezing et cetera. I get it, he is a hard working lumberjack, at least when he’s not drinking. I mean he never fails to remind me that he is hard working.
Later that evening, I sat on the couch in the living room. Watching him rock in his chair with a pipe between his teeth. His sleeves rolled up, shirt unbuttoned, taking long drags and puffing out smoke. Which looked like the personification of despair. His face was so thick with beards you could barely see his lips sometimes.
We were seeing the world’s lamest football game. More like he was. I had no interest in the game. We both knew the Dire Wolves always lost to the Panthers. It became pointless for me to watch them have their asses handed to them time and again.
The year has been gravely uneventful, not that the previous years had been any better. Erick, who happens to be my best friend, tells me I’m wasting away in my prime; that I would look back when I’m old with eyes filled with regret.
He’s probably right, but I never really thought of taking active steps in changing my social standing. But all that changed last week at Big Ben’s Dinner where I work. When Sabrina the hottest freshmen, slapped me and said she would never think of being friends with a creep like me, or worse go out with me. She even said something along the lines of me being a potential serial killer. She assumed I was hitting on her when in truth I was only being friendly. I felt really bad, it hit me hard and for a brief moment, my entire life played out in my head in an excruciating, slow motion, melancholy manner. It was kinda my fault though, none of that would have happened if I didn’t chit chat with the customer, that being Sabrina. It was a good thing Naidine wasn’t working that night, she probably would have had Sabrina’s head.
The incident amongst an armada of many others may have pushed me to want to do something about the current wreck that was my life. I decided I needed some excitement, something that proves I’m living not just existing, something spontaneous, maybe even rebellious. Being one of Wood Valley’s top ranking social outcasts; I needed to dive to the bottom of that list
yes there was a list
, and if I’m lucky, maybe even get off the list entirely. I had to make a move, hit it big, before I begin to consider shipping off to the army after my senior year. Dad said college is not happening. So it’s either the army or a scholarship. That been said, I’m not a star quarter back like my dad was. I’m not exactly what you’d call a sports person. I avoid anything that leads to my pulse racing. So I doubt any scouts would be gunning for me due to my remarkable abstinence from sports.
I got bored pretending to be invested in the stupid football game eventually, I excused myself, went up to my room. I picked up my phone from the table and texted Erick. Hey man where are you at?
And almost instantly he texted back, We’re down by the docks
We? Who’s we? I texted.
With Abby, Jackson… N Bella and a bunch of other kids, doing the usual. Blowing off some steam before we’re once again prisoners to the four walls of our alma mater. He replied. The session was to commence on Monday; we were going to be juniors and ‘doing the usual’ implied drinking, smoking and whatever else came with teenage hangouts these days. Wait a minute, Bella!
Wait did you say Bella? I texted
Yes dude Bella, half of the BnB power duo. Heard she broke up with Blake don’t know if it’s true for sure this time… those two always get back together. He replied.
She’s there right now?
She’s sitting not too far from me. Now let me concentrate on my drags… weeds burning out. He replied.
If she’s single maybe now I’ll get a chance
Chance at what exactly? He replied.
Getting to know her?
Don’t forget the part where I said she BROKE UP WITH BLAKE. That MEANS A VERY PISSED BLAKE, LOOKING FOR HOW TO VENT, and I’m pretty sure you don’t want to be on the receiving end… He replied.
Shit, congrats my wrap’s burned out. You owe me a roll. He replied.
I’m not sure I care what Blake is going to do to me anymore. I texted. My reputation you see was pretty much bartered beyond recognition. What does a man have to lose now?
I like the new found courage my friend… but I’m afraid it’s not in your favor I don’t want to see you stuffed inside a waste bin for the 100th time… or worse. He replied.
How long would you guys be at the docks? I simply ignored his warning. I spent the better part of middle school having my appetite soiled from being stuffed in one waste bin or the other. By the time we were in high school, Blake found more creative and effective ways of ruining my life. So I doubt he would resort to his middle school ways. That was what growth was after all a permanent change in size and complexity.
An hour or two… he replied.
I’m on my way.
Wait you serious? I wasn’t joking about Blake. Bones if he finds out you’ve even conceived making moves on his girl he’d kill you before you actually get to make your move.
She’s not his girl anymore is she? And weren’t you the one telling me how I needed to have fun, break some rules, talk to girls…
You know this is different
See you soon.
I’ve warned you it’s your funeral. He replied. I threw my phone on the bed and watched it almost bounce off as I stripped down to my boxers. I opened the closet, my eyes scanned through the clothes . Then I saw a black hoodie. I grabbed it and a ripped jean. I laid them on the bed to have a feel of what it would look like on me. Not bad I thought. I slipped them on as fast as I could. Feeling a sense of urgency, a rush of what felt like optimism. The love of my life,
whom I never speak to
has broken up with her boyfriend. This might be my opportunity this might be what I’ve been waiting for. I wore my all stars and walked over to the mirror. I sprayed perfume after I managed to comb my hair into partial submission. I don’t look too bad I thought, and turned away from the mirror. Then I turned around again and looked closely. I appeared meek, too meek too nerdy. You don’t want to look like that when you’re going to hang out with a bunch of delinquent, drug abusing, impulsive and hormone-driven teenagers. Well I am one myself, the hormone-driven part anyway.
So I roughened my hair a bit. To look less nerdy. As I made my way down stairs it hit me; I was still barred from leaving the house, excluding the days when I worked. Erick persuaded me to stay out past curfew some weeks back in light of having a life that is anything other than boring. It was a fun night, but I am still faced with the consequences. I was just glad my dad didn’t take away my phone. When I got to the living room, he still sat in his chair. I hovered around a bit, thinking of a subtle way to tell him I wanted to go out, but there was none. “Dad I’m going to Erick’s” I said and of course I lied. If he actually knew where I was headed he’d kill me. He took the pipe out of his mouth and turned in my direction. And in that moment, the room became quite despite the fact that the TV was still on. It was like I was yanked into a mid west standoff of the 17th century, his fierce eyes were fixed on me as his hands hovered over his imaginary pistol. I felt beads of sweat form on my forehead.
“You do know you’re grounded don’t ya?” he said finally. I wasn’t sure whether he expected an answer or if his question was just rhetorical. Either way I decided it was best not to answer. He stared at me for a while. I think he was accessing my usual choice of clothing. “Well, I think it’s about time you started going out again” he said and relieve flooded my body. “Now listen carefully, your curfew won’t be 10pm no more, it’s 8pm prompt. Not a minute later, and you had better be on your best behavior. Do you understand me?” his voice was unusually calm. Now I knew that this question I had to answer.
“Yes sir I do” I said.
“8pm” he repeated as I went out the door. I was now in the front porch, my bicycle was chained up to the left, the street was quite. It was typical, my neighborhood comprised of houses owned mostly by old folks. I started walking, I had only gone a few yards when I turned around. Riding a bicycle to meet up with my peers isn’t particularly cool if you put into consideration the fact that most of them owned cars. But screw it I won’t walk. I wouldn’t call walking all the way to the docks suicide per se. It was more like premeditated self-murder
which in itself is still suicide
if that word ever existed; knowing if you walked there, you’d probably die, but you decide to kill yourself still by walking. I imagined my organs refusing to function, lungs stop expanding and contracting, brain starts starving from low oxygen, and heart stops beating. The parts ultimately kills the whole; as poetic as death gets. I undid the chain around my bicycle from the pole of the front porch and pedaled away. I watched folks outside reading papers and magazines , some holding hands, others knitting, but most of them just sat there chatting. Some houses looked deserted but in a very creepy way, the kind you see in horror movies, and the day was retiring.
The docks were desolate when I arrived. I could see a bunch a fishermen looking miserable as always, they smelled like stale sardines, with their over grown beards and aprons hanging down from their necks. I waved at Bob, he was one of the decent guys among them. I dug into my pocket and collected my phone. It was 6:40 pm, where the hell are you guys? I texted Erick. Drumming impatiently on the back of my phone with my fingers as I waited for Erick’s reply.
Where are you? By the docks? He finally replied.
No, on the moon, sipping vodka and ridding unicorns. Yes by the docks where you told me you’d be asshole.
Hahaha, funny, very funny… though I think that’s exactly what I’d be doing if I smoke one more time… you really didn’t think we would be at the docks precisely did you? he replied.
Just tell me where the fuck you are.
We’re after the clearing by the shore… security measures… I’ve got bad news though. He replied.
What? What is it?
Never mind when you get here.
Erick, tell me what it is pls!
Bye. He texted. Argh! He’s such an asshole. I stashed my bike in a safe location. Lucky for me I didn’t have to bike to go meet them after all. I started the lonely walk along the shore. Cold winds blew, and it kinda felt good. The birds sang beautiful choruses. I watched glimmers emanate as the setting sun laced the water surface with its rays. It was beautiful.
