It's like an inside joke, and everyone knows the punchline but me.
I sit here. Waiting.
These tables and benches are so much more quiet after everyone's gone home.
My backpack is light today. Straight upstairs to the couch for me! Dad will be all set and if I'm lucky he'll let
me watch the first half of the game with him.
As soon as mom picks me up.
She's never this late.
Mister Mike is glancing at his watch again. I think he's a Rams fan, and kickoff is in less than 15 minutes. The 57 traffic shouldn't be that bad. He'll miss the first series, maybe...
... other stuff that I don't have the patience to write because I found a video about the 1989 San Francisco 49ers...
And I climb in to the car, and mom says, "I'm sorry I'm so late. We'll stop by Big 5 on the way home and get those cleats you've been looking at," and I was too excited to notice her swollen eyes.
Showing posts with label short story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label short story. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Pity
Upon opening his eyes, the regret was nearly instantaneous. He shut his eyelids tightly, willing himself back to that empty hallway, lined with lockers, void of classmates, occupied by her, those silver eyes, that long blonde hair, twisted above her head in a bun, revealing her tiny ears that were actually listening, listening to him, his words, his fumbling, mumbling, inadequate words, professing his love, undying, immovable, unrequited now that he was awake and painfully aware of the impossibility of that perfect, perfect dream...
And later that day, while rushing through the halls to geometry class, he saw her, her swollen eye covered by makeup, her bruised wrists hidden by the sleeves of his letterman jacket, a disguise that fooled no one, failed to cover the evidence of another fall down the stairs, another volleyball to the face, another slap and grab and why won't she leave him, why won't her parents say anything, why did the teachers pass him, why did the school give him that full ride, why is she still wearing that jacket when he's across town in a dorm, waiting for his big debut against Hawaii, sleeping with 20 year old cheerleaders, 26 year old TAs, 41 year old professors, ok, maybe not with all those girls, but he still hits her and treats her like shit and makes me wish that I wasn't 15 going on 12, 127 going on 110, 5'6" going 5'2", weak going on weaker, smart going on weaker, in love, in love, in lust, in love, in pain but not as much as she endures on a nightly basis...
And then he remembered why he loved the dream so much. It wasn't because he finally had her. It was because she was finally safe. And he was sad. Sad that he realized it was pity that he felt, not love.
And later that day, while rushing through the halls to geometry class, he saw her, her swollen eye covered by makeup, her bruised wrists hidden by the sleeves of his letterman jacket, a disguise that fooled no one, failed to cover the evidence of another fall down the stairs, another volleyball to the face, another slap and grab and why won't she leave him, why won't her parents say anything, why did the teachers pass him, why did the school give him that full ride, why is she still wearing that jacket when he's across town in a dorm, waiting for his big debut against Hawaii, sleeping with 20 year old cheerleaders, 26 year old TAs, 41 year old professors, ok, maybe not with all those girls, but he still hits her and treats her like shit and makes me wish that I wasn't 15 going on 12, 127 going on 110, 5'6" going 5'2", weak going on weaker, smart going on weaker, in love, in love, in lust, in love, in pain but not as much as she endures on a nightly basis...
And then he remembered why he loved the dream so much. It wasn't because he finally had her. It was because she was finally safe. And he was sad. Sad that he realized it was pity that he felt, not love.
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