H. A. Carter (6 page)

How pathetic I must have looked to him then.
I wonder if it was anything like he looked to me on that day...

They always say, “it is better to have loved
and lost than never to have loved at all”, but what they fail to
tell you is that the pain of losing that love is sometimes more
intense than any physical damage could ever be. It is why they call
it a crush, right?

*

I sat quietly in the corner of the room. Last
desk in the last row. The story of my life. English was an easy
subject for me so this was my favorite class to mentally escape in.
In that back corner was sometimes my only refuge during the day. JJ
had the great fortune of repeating sophomore English this semester
and therefore was not able to enlighten me with his presence in
class. I was never so thankful for his stupidity as I was those
last couple of years in high school.

My used copy of Hamlet lay untouched on my
worn out desk. I'd read it twice before in junior high. The lagging
discussion by my classmates was pointless to me. The girls were
disappointed that we were not reading Romeo and Juliet, and the
boys were only pretending to know anything about the book to
impress the rather busty, young, first year teacher, Miss Clary. I
could have cared less about either.

I pondered taking steroids as a minute
possibility to free my current physical state to coincide with my
diminishing acne and apparent high cheek bones, when fate struck me
like lightening.

Still mentally unaware of my surroundings, I
realized I was nodding my head in agreement long before I knew what
I was agreeing to. As the fog of my imaginary journey lifted, the
reality that Joanna Fairley was talking to me slammed me against a
brick wall. She was knee deep in an intense conversation with me
and I had no clue what the subject was. Embarrassed by my
stupidity, I just kept

nodding, feeling at least a yes to everything
she said was better than no response at all. With Joanna, even
after all these years, I would agree to almost anything she said
anyway.

“Well?” she asked looking intently at me for
a answer.

Oh shit, was all I could muster to think. I
opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. I thought about
nodding my head again, but knew that would instantly give me
away.

She dropped her head slightly, her stare
boring a little deeper into mine. The soft tapping of her pencil
was the only noise between us for what seemed like eternity. She
scrunched up her eyebrows accusingly.

“You have no idea what I just said, do
you?”

I was struck dumb. I wanted to tell her the
truth, but feared I'd just piss her off. The odds were not in my
favor yet again. Imagine that. I decided to go for broke.

“I'm sorry. Really. I wasn't paying
attention. It's kind of my only escape of the day in this class so
I guess I take advantage of that.”

Did I really just tell Joanna Fairley that I
have to “escape” during the day? What the hell was I thinking?

Suddenly feeling deflated for ousting myself,
I instantly regretted what I had said, until she smiled at me.

“I don't blame you. You deserve a break. JJ
can be such a jerk,” Her face slightly flushed as her smiled
broadened. I then realized her eyes were the most unique shade of
brown and green. Hypnotic even. Strange, I had never actually
looked her in eye before.

Speechless was the only way to describe the
feeling,

“Um..so...I asked you why you weren't sitting
in the front row with the rest of the guys. I know

you're really smart, and Miss Clary is very
pretty, you know,” she smiled again lowering her gaze, the red tint
on her cheeks spreading like wild fire. I don't remember ever
seeing Joanna look so intimidated before.

“Thanks, yeah, I guess so,” I stammered, both
shocked and intrigued by the compliment and that she would ask me
such a question. I obviously didn't sit up front because I wasn't
welcomed to and not because I couldn't hold a decent discussion. I
was pretty sure she knew that, but I pressed on.

“She's not really my type.”

“Oh,” she replied lightly, her cheeks now
blazing, “ So, what is your type?”

My heart raced uncontrollably. I was sure she
could see it bounding through my thin t-shirt, practically bursting
through my chest. My face grew hot and cold at the same time, a
huge smiled spreading across my face. I tried forcing it back, but
failed miserably. I choked a bit trying to catch my breath before
answering. I wasn't smooth or cunning when it came to girls. I had
never been on a date and barely talked to any girls at all, let
alone ones who were completely out of my league. James Bond was
never a hero of mine, and at this moment I wished on every fiber of
my being that I had spent more time watching Golden Eye than I had
watching Star Wars. I opened my mouth, about to say I didn't really
have a type, but suddenly changed my mind. I stared back into those
hazel eyes and did the impossible.

“You are.”

Warm streams of hot salty tears run down my
face. My heart wants to die at every thought of her. Times like
this I blame JJ for what ended up happening that day. Deep down,
through the dark tunnel of my conscious I tell myself that it's all
his fault. I really wish that were true. If I could just convince
myself that this was all a result of solely him, perhaps I could
live with myself. As crazy as it seemed at the time, I should have
just walked away, ran away actually. I should have just let it go
and moved on like normal people do, but how do you move on from
something like that? Could I really have been expected to move on?
Could she?

BANG!

It was as if firecrackers and bombs had
exploded in every confine of my mind all at once. Screams ignited
throughout the cafeteria. Panic clogged the air. My ears rang
uncontrollably from the loud echo of the gun shot. I let out a slow
sigh. It was so easy, so easy to pull the trigger. I laughed
slightly at the sheer simplicity of it all. Then I opened my eyes
in anticipation, but they opened to a picture of surreal
pandemonium I could not comprehend. I had hit a target, but it was
the wrong one.

“I think I hate that guy just as much as you
do anymore.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

Joanna sat comfortably next to me on my
mother's worn, coffee colored couch. She was wrapped tightly in a
cocoon of blankets with my arms wrapped tighter around her as we
stared uninterested at the late night horror movie playing on TV.
It was below freezing outside, but my mother insisted on keeping
the heat down to cut costs. It used to bother me, but lately, it's
worked in my favor. The sweet coconut scent of her hair engulfed my
every thought as she cuddled closer. All I wanted was to be in this
quiet moment with her forever. Away from school, away from our
parents, and especially away from JJ.

She squeezed my arm slightly, her hand warm
and soft. I looked back into the fathoms of her brown-green
eyes.

“What do you think I should do?”

I wish we could talk about something else
right now. Anything else.

“Just ignore him,” I sighed, “Paying any
attention to that moron only gives him more reason to be a jerk. He
thrives on making other people miserable. Look what he does to me
for Christ sakes! Have you tried telling your parents?”

“Yes, but you know how my dad is with Jack.
He thinks he's God or something. He never listens to me about it,
and when I think he does all he says is that I should be flattered.
I swear, my dad kisses his butt like it's strawberry candy.”

We both chuckled a little. Joanna's dad,
Seth, and Jack Sr. were co-workers at Bob's Auto Mart. Jack Sr. was
Seth's boss and therefore his “best friend”. Unfortunately, that
only meant JJ could do no wrong in Seth's eyes. And this fact was
the biggest reason why I was Joanna's dirty little secret.

Joanna breathed deeply and let out a long
thoughtful sigh. Her eyes darkened with unrelenting worry. I could
tell this was really getting to her. Perhaps this situation was
more serious than I thought. I wish I knew how to reassure her that
JJ is full of smoke. She says she has faith in me to protect her,
but I feel so weak and unworthy right now. A real boyfriend would
know how to handle this. A real boyfriend would walk straight up to
that bastard, punch him right in the face, and tell him to screw
off. I, on the other hand, could do nothing. Nothing. What the hell
does she see in me?

“Please, please just let me die. Just get it
over with,” I plead quietly to the still, empty, frigid air. No one
answers back. No one Here cares that I want to die. I know I
deserve this. I deserve all of this. God, I want to take it back! I
want to take it all back. At this point I don't care what happened
to me in school, just as long as I didn't feel like this anymore.
If someone had told me then that as soon as you leave high school,
none of what happens there ever really matters to you anymore, I
would have thought they were delusional. Or perhaps one of those
lucky ones who skated by high school with no more than a scratch or
a bruise on their ego. I wish I had been one of those lucky ones,
able to just move on.

No moving on Here.

No smiling Here.

No laughing Here.

No joking Here.

No living...Here.

Isolated from happiness. Forced to feel cold
and alone.

“Oh, Mother, what have I become?”

I'm utterly ashamed to think of what her soft
accepting blue eyes would see when they gazed upon the gaunt figure
that looms in the shadows that was once her little boy.

JJ was right all along. I am nothing but a
black mark. If only there were an eraser big enough to rid the
world of me. Even through all my brilliance I couldn't manage to
make anything go right. Everyone around me suffered, and no matter
how hard I tried, I failed them. I failed them! I'm a failure!

A failure and a fraud. When I should have
been able to offer safety and security, I offered nothing but
disappointment. I failed my mother, John, and Joanna. At some point
they relied on me and I let them down. Yes, I deserve to be Here.
As the old saying goes, “if I only knew then what I know now”.

What would I do different now that I do know?
In actuality would I really have done anything different?

Yes. I'd like to think so. I'd like to think
deep down I'm not a monster. Yet, bit by tormented bit I was pieced
together with every scornful “joke” they pulled on me. Stillwater
High School's own personal Frankenstein. Stitched together inch by
inch, each person adding a little at a time until finally, the
monster was completed. All I needed was that one final lightening
storm to bring me to life.

Why did he do it? Why did he have to push me?
Why couldn't he just leave things the hell alone? Why couldn't he
just let me be happy? Why!?

Where are the torches and pitchforks when you
need them?

“Harvey, Honey, it's time to get ready for
school.”

I stood half dressed in the doorway. My mom
sat slumped over the kitchen table, tired and exhausted. Dark
circles encompassed her light blue eyes. She was quietly sipping
her coffee with two creams and four sugars. I hesitated slightly as
I began to approach the table, the cracked linoleum cold and hard
through my tattered socks. I'd been planning this moment for weeks,
but was unsure if I could bring myself to do it. Had it not been
for our recent family tree project in school I might never have
worked up the courage to do so in the first place. My project was a
botched piece of fabrication that I'm sure everyone was able to see
right through.

The blank stare on my mother's face made her
look vulnerable and beaten. I was scared, but if it was going to
happen, it had to happen now.

“Where's my father?” I said shakily, almost
stuttering.

My mother never moved, never put down her
coffee, never stopped staring at the paint chipped wall.

“He's gone.” she said bluntly.

That's all she ever said when anyone asked
where he was. He had to be somewhere. I wanted to know, needed to
know.

“Where did he go?”

Still lifeless, she uttered, “back home,”
just slightly above a faint whisper.

Well, that was start! She had never said that
before! All I needed now was to find out where he lived.

“Where's home?”

“Not here.”

“Yeah, but where? What town? Maybe I can find
him? Maybe he's looking for us too?” I began firing question after
question, getting louder and louder as my excitement grew.

“No, Harvey. He's...he's not. He knows right
where we are. He's not looking for us. We're better off without him
anyway.”

My stomach dropped. If he knew where we were
why hadn't he come to visit? Or called? Why hadn't he ever even
seen me? Didn't he care?

I ran toward her, mouth open and ready to
ask, when she cut me off.

“Harvey, I said no!” she put her hand up in
front of my face angrily, stopping me quick. I knew the hand meant
business, but a kid needs to know!

“But, Mom...”

She shook her head in quiet frustration.

“Damn it, Harvey! No!” she screamed. It takes
a lot to make her crack, but any conversation involving my father
easily broke her. I suddenly felt a wash of guilt come over me as I
realized I had done just that in record time.

She stood up from the table and stormed off
to her room. Her coffee left untouched on the table, still
steaming. I had gone eight years of my life not having a dad. The
crushing reality that I never will brought pools of hot tears to my
eyes.