Sunday guaranteed that there would not be as many people in the bus station as there would be on weekdays, but there were still many of them waiting on the terminals when Thomas arrived. He found Felix on Terminal C, wearing his trademark dark clothes, in stark contrast to his day-glow white skin. He waved a greeting, and Thomas walked in his general direction, taking a seat next to him, the other benches empty. This wasn’t the bus line with too many commuters- the 12 bus only came once every two hours, and for now they were alone in that spot.
“Thomas, got your notebook?”
“Yeah. I’m going to use it, I guess. I’ve never had to before. I never really think about these people after I finish my observations, but it’s relaxing to do.”
“Sounds like it. Do you have a monthly bus pass? I can’t really come here on weekends with nothing to do but watch people. I don’t have that kind of money. My mom would talk about how the bus used to be $2.75 when she was younger, and now it’s a whole seven bucks. “
“Seven bucks is relative. Yeah, I have a bus pass. One of my friends has a bunch of them, I buy him booze and he buys me bus passes. I go around all day.”
“Where do you get booze? ID's have chips in them now.”
“I have a college friend who I do essays for. He has his ways.”
“Man. You must be really smart to be able to do essays for a college kid.”
“Not really.”
An old woman in Terminal B tripped and fell as the bus drove at the stop, to be helped by what appeared to be an Arabic or Indian boy- Thomas was never good at identifying. The elderly woman was giving him a derisive look and quickly shook off her hand as she got to her feet.
Felix whispered, “That woman there. Maybe she lost a son in the Iraqi war.”
Thomas looked at her sadly, and lowered his voice as well. “She’s wearing old tennis shoes. She doesn’t have a car, or someone to drive her. Maybe her son is dead, or all grown up and neglecting her.”
“Maybe she has more than one son,” the other continued. “Maybe she was raised a racist.”
“Everyone’s raised a racist, one way or another,” Thomas replied.
“What about the Indian kid?”
“He’s dressed in Neo Retro. That’s really trendy. ‘It’s the future, let’s dress like what old people thought was the future’ - they always look so dumb.”
“Everyone who’s rich and artsy in my school dresses Neo Retro. They’re always going, ‘Felix, you untrendy bastard.’ and I have to look them in the eye and say I have no money to pretend to be a character from a sci fi novel.”
“It’s like Halloween every day, but three times as stupid. Maybe that Indian kid just wants to fit in.”
“No one tricks or treats anymore anyway.”
“They’re all afraid of being killed, Felix.”
“Death isn’t really that scary.”
Thomas watched the old lady board the bus, and sighed. “Death isn’t that scary when you’re young, because you think you’re immortal. Try telling that to an old person.”
“I don’t think I’m immortal at all, but we both heal quicker than regular people. Do you sometimes wonder if we are though?”
“You mean, immortal? That’s kind of weird.”
“Valiant Co. People already have longevity pills from them, who knows.”
They sat for a while in silence, and Thomas wrote down the old woman’s appearance, her cherry blossom shawl and the tennis shoes. Then he saw something that caught her eye, a young woman about their age, at the far end of the bus station, with strawberry blond hair and hazel eyes, in a seafoam green summer dress.
Felix froze.
“Nelo.”
Thomas looked at the girl, then back at his friend. “Nelo?”
But Felix had already rose from his seat and began running past Terminal C and B, skipping over the barrier fences, and almost getting hit by the number 40 bus, the screaming people and honking clearly not present in his mind. Thomas could hear him shout, imploringly, urgently, and felt the worst kind of sorrow.
“NELO! NELO! DON’T GET ON THAT BUS NELO! WHY THE FUCK HAVEN’T YOU CALLED ME? YOU COULD HAVE AT LEAST SAID FUCK YOU AND GOODBYE! WHAT HAVE I EVEN DONE TO YOU?!!! TELL ME!!! NELO, PLEASE!!!!”
She got on the bus, avoiding his glance, and Felix slammed against the bus door as it closed, the bus driver securely shutting the entrance. He ran in front of the bus, spreading his arms out wide, the honking noise getting louder. They were going to call security, and Thomas, in a panic, ran after him, pushing him out of the bus’s way.
Felix was crying. Thomas, still gripping his arms, shook him gently.
“We have to leave. I’ll get my friend Matt to drive you home, he lives close by.”
No response. Thomas dragged Felix along, and he could feel no resistance. He reached for his cell phone.
“Matt? It’s Tom. Can you pick me and my friend Felix up from the bus station? What? You have an essay due tonight? I’ll do it, Just pick us up. We’ll be across the street by the barber shop. Alright, I owe you, thanks.”
Felix was still crying. Thomas let go of his hand.
“Who’s Nelo?”
“Some bitch.”
“Oh... are you gonna be alright?”
“I guess, I don’t know.”
They waited in silence, and Matt drove in a sleek black car, bleach blond hair with black roots.
“Hey Tom, I’ll email you my essay. Um, is your friend alright?”
“He’s fine.”
They went into the seats together, and Felix lowered his head, covering his face.
“Where to?”
“Kennedy Park, near that apartment complex with the yellow bricks.”
“Alright.”
The ride was in silence. Thomas watched the car window to avoid Felix’s face, eyes lost in the buzzing trees. Matt was never a good driver.
“We’re here. It’s only 10:30, you’ll have plenty of time to do my essay. It’s no sweat, just a summary thing.”
“Sure, will do. Thanks.”
He drove away. Felix was no longer in tears.
“Thomas, thanks. I owe you.”
“It’s no big deal.”
“Yes, it is a big deal. You’re a really good friend, and I barely know you.”
“You’ll get to know me.”
“That’s true. I’m glad.”
“Take it easy, ok Felix?”
“I’ll try. You want to come inside my house for a bit? Maybe eat lunch? My mom’s boyfriend and her are out... somewhere doing stuff and they’ll probably be out till late into the night.”
“Sure. You can read me more of your Pelago story.”
“Yeah, that would be cool. I’m glad you like it.”
“It’s great.”
“Thanks again... for not being a prick.”
Awkward laughter.
“I try.”
Previous
Showing posts with label 02. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 02. Show all posts
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Thursday, November 4, 2010
02: Greeting
Felix called at 10:45 at night, a tad bit late.
“Hello?”
“Hey Thomas. Sorry about the stuff that went down in my house- hey, what's that banging and shouting I'm hearing?”
“Nothing, it's just my aunt slamming her fist at my door. I locked it. I'm sure it will pass.”
“Wow... you two get into an argument?”
“Kind of. I know I should feel guilty, but I don't. I told her all the money in this house is from me, and when I leave they'll have nothing left.”
“That's true though. Don't worry about that.”
“...I don't love my mother.” Thomas said out of the blue, and felt his heart marching in his chest. “Is that bad?”
Felix was silent for a moment.
“I love my mother dearly, but I say mean things to her sometimes because I've given up on saying nice things. She doesn't listen to nice things. She likes it when men trash talk at her. It's disgusting.”
“My aunt calls me scum on a regular basis, and my mother cries when she sees my face on the rare instances that she comes out of her room. I want to feel guilty, but I don't.”
“Then don't think about it. It's not worth it.”
“Maybe... maybe she'll start talking again after I turn eighteen and leave them, when the money's all gone. Who knows.”
“Yeah.”
“Sorry. Now I'm just being whiny. Let's not talk about this anymore. Want to hang out tomorrow?”
“Sunday afternoon?”
“Yeah. I was thinking earlier though, in the morning, by the bus station. I have this weird hobby where I look at all the commuters and imagine what kind of life they have.”
“I thought you didn't have hobbies, you told me. That's kind of interesting though. If I were anyone else I would have told you that you were weird, but that's actually really cool. Kind of like what I do with reading people's blogs, but in real life.”
“Yeah, I know it's weird. This isn't really a hobby. It's just something I like to do.”
“Do you write about the people too? In a notebook. The stories you make about them.”
“Not really.”
“You should try it, you might come up with really cool stuff.”
“I might.”
“Your aunt's still slamming at the door... are you sure you're alright there?”
“Yeah. Don't worry about it.”
“Alright. I gotta hang up, Thomas. I'll see you tomorrow. How's 9:30 sound?”
“Sounds good. See ya.”
“Bye.”
Thomas put down his cell phone.
“THOMAS OPEN YOUR DOOR RIGHT NOW! ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME? THOMAS OPEN YOUR FUCKING DOOR! I'M GOING TO GIVE YOU A PIECE OF MY FUCKING MIND YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT.”
He did nothing as she shouted obscenities at him. And then:
“STOP IT. YOU'LL DISTURB MOM AUNT ROSE!”
She shut up then. He could hear her crying and sobbing, but no longer cared about what he had done, climbing into his bed to go to sleep.
I hate her. I hate my mom. I hate this.
He looked at the ceiling, a dull off white, and counted his blessings. He had a roof over his head. He had very good grades. He also had a friend now, one that didn't use the fact that he looked like a college student to help buy them cigarettes and booze. He had only two years left of living with his mother and his aunt, and colleges were already offering him scholarships.
Thomas closed his eyes. He dreamed of Pelago and the alien boy, as though watching a movie with the sound muted. They were both standing knee deep in a small pond while holding hands, the sky raining tears.
“Let's drown here,” she said.
“I am afraid of death,” he said.
They sang lovely words- it sounded like words, but he could not understand them.
When he woke up, it was five in the morning. It was probably better to leave early, he thought, showering and getting dressed. After eating cereal, he left the house, with a pen, and a little black notebook a friend bought him for Christmas but never bothered to use. Why not, maybe writing down the people stories like Felix had suggested would be fun.
Previous
“Hello?”
“Hey Thomas. Sorry about the stuff that went down in my house- hey, what's that banging and shouting I'm hearing?”
“Nothing, it's just my aunt slamming her fist at my door. I locked it. I'm sure it will pass.”
“Wow... you two get into an argument?”
“Kind of. I know I should feel guilty, but I don't. I told her all the money in this house is from me, and when I leave they'll have nothing left.”
“That's true though. Don't worry about that.”
“...I don't love my mother.” Thomas said out of the blue, and felt his heart marching in his chest. “Is that bad?”
Felix was silent for a moment.
“I love my mother dearly, but I say mean things to her sometimes because I've given up on saying nice things. She doesn't listen to nice things. She likes it when men trash talk at her. It's disgusting.”
“My aunt calls me scum on a regular basis, and my mother cries when she sees my face on the rare instances that she comes out of her room. I want to feel guilty, but I don't.”
“Then don't think about it. It's not worth it.”
“Maybe... maybe she'll start talking again after I turn eighteen and leave them, when the money's all gone. Who knows.”
“Yeah.”
“Sorry. Now I'm just being whiny. Let's not talk about this anymore. Want to hang out tomorrow?”
“Sunday afternoon?”
“Yeah. I was thinking earlier though, in the morning, by the bus station. I have this weird hobby where I look at all the commuters and imagine what kind of life they have.”
“I thought you didn't have hobbies, you told me. That's kind of interesting though. If I were anyone else I would have told you that you were weird, but that's actually really cool. Kind of like what I do with reading people's blogs, but in real life.”
“Yeah, I know it's weird. This isn't really a hobby. It's just something I like to do.”
“Do you write about the people too? In a notebook. The stories you make about them.”
“Not really.”
“You should try it, you might come up with really cool stuff.”
“I might.”
“Your aunt's still slamming at the door... are you sure you're alright there?”
“Yeah. Don't worry about it.”
“Alright. I gotta hang up, Thomas. I'll see you tomorrow. How's 9:30 sound?”
“Sounds good. See ya.”
“Bye.”
Thomas put down his cell phone.
“THOMAS OPEN YOUR DOOR RIGHT NOW! ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME? THOMAS OPEN YOUR FUCKING DOOR! I'M GOING TO GIVE YOU A PIECE OF MY FUCKING MIND YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT.”
He did nothing as she shouted obscenities at him. And then:
“STOP IT. YOU'LL DISTURB MOM AUNT ROSE!”
She shut up then. He could hear her crying and sobbing, but no longer cared about what he had done, climbing into his bed to go to sleep.
I hate her. I hate my mom. I hate this.
He looked at the ceiling, a dull off white, and counted his blessings. He had a roof over his head. He had very good grades. He also had a friend now, one that didn't use the fact that he looked like a college student to help buy them cigarettes and booze. He had only two years left of living with his mother and his aunt, and colleges were already offering him scholarships.
Thomas closed his eyes. He dreamed of Pelago and the alien boy, as though watching a movie with the sound muted. They were both standing knee deep in a small pond while holding hands, the sky raining tears.
“Let's drown here,” she said.
“I am afraid of death,” he said.
They sang lovely words- it sounded like words, but he could not understand them.
When he woke up, it was five in the morning. It was probably better to leave early, he thought, showering and getting dressed. After eating cereal, he left the house, with a pen, and a little black notebook a friend bought him for Christmas but never bothered to use. Why not, maybe writing down the people stories like Felix had suggested would be fun.
Previous
02: War
Aunt Rose prepared dinner for herself and Iris, which had already been eaten when Thomas got home. He washed the dishes, ate an orange from the table, and and passed by the living room, seeing his aunt's glazed eyes watching television, a stupid sitcom about the nineties.
“What the hell are you doing coming home so late?”
“I went out.”
“Did you wash the dishes?”
“I do everything asked of me, you know that.”
“You're getting smart with me now, Thomas, you little shit.”
Thomas, for once, looked her straight in the eyes.
“When I leave at eighteen, you won't have any money left, because you rely on me. You have no job.”
“How- How dare you.”
His voice remained even. “How dare you. Blaming me for my mother's breakdown. She hasn't touched me since I came out of her. It's not my fault she got knocked up by a cute Asian boy in college. It's not my fault she had no money and decided to sell her body for a science test. And you know what else? I support you. I support her. The money that keeps this apartment, the money that pays for your food, most of it comes from me, thanks to what she gets every month.”
She rushed forward and raised her hand to hit him, but he grabbed it firmly before it reached his face.
“I pay to keep you alive, and you know this.”
Rose, of small stature, was entirely engulfed in Thomas's shadow in the dim light. She used her free hand to punch Thomas in the stomach, but he remained unmoved. For a moment, there was only silence, and then tears from his aunt, which did nothing to soften his face.
He let go of her arm, and left for his room.
Previous
“What the hell are you doing coming home so late?”
“I went out.”
“Did you wash the dishes?”
“I do everything asked of me, you know that.”
“You're getting smart with me now, Thomas, you little shit.”
Thomas, for once, looked her straight in the eyes.
“When I leave at eighteen, you won't have any money left, because you rely on me. You have no job.”
“How- How dare you.”
His voice remained even. “How dare you. Blaming me for my mother's breakdown. She hasn't touched me since I came out of her. It's not my fault she got knocked up by a cute Asian boy in college. It's not my fault she had no money and decided to sell her body for a science test. And you know what else? I support you. I support her. The money that keeps this apartment, the money that pays for your food, most of it comes from me, thanks to what she gets every month.”
She rushed forward and raised her hand to hit him, but he grabbed it firmly before it reached his face.
“I pay to keep you alive, and you know this.”
Rose, of small stature, was entirely engulfed in Thomas's shadow in the dim light. She used her free hand to punch Thomas in the stomach, but he remained unmoved. For a moment, there was only silence, and then tears from his aunt, which did nothing to soften his face.
He let go of her arm, and left for his room.
Previous
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
02: Love
“Whoa. That was really good.”
“Thanks. It’s one of my better ones. My earlier works aren’t as good as this.”
Thomas would have also commented on how strange his voice was, so different from his regular voice, as though the sounds said were a direct window to that world, rather than the faltering noise of a poor, or even adequate messenger. It was like he didn’t even hear him speak.
“That’s all you have so far?”
“I don’t have a lot, but there’s little more than this. I’ll read you a chapter every week if you want.”
“Sure, your writing is great. Really great. I’m so bad with words that I can’t even say how great it is.”
“Thanks, I’m glad you like it. I don’t really show my writing to people.”
“I’ll count myself lucky- hey, I have a question though.”
“Yeah?”
“Was the alien guy based off you?” He said this carefully. Felix’s eyes were a dullish blue-gray, and his hair, while not quite white, was a very light blond. The reference was too obvious.
“Yeah, he’s a gratuitous author insertion. Or an author surrogate, like the pros would call it.”
“That’s kind of funny-”
Thomas could hear the apartment door open loudly from inside Felix’s room, car keys jangling, and the sound of a woman’s laughter, followed quickly by a man. Also, sexual profanities, and the woman was giggling at them, “oh,” and “oh you” and “oh yes” and more girlish chuckling. Felix’s face blanched clean of blood, and his friend whispered.
“Is this a bad time? Should I go home?”
“It’s fine.” It didn’t sound fine. “My mom’s just... just... starved for attention. I don’t recognize this guy. He sounds new.”
“Um, what should I do then?”
“Nothing. You don’t have to do anything.” Felix smiled, and Thomas felt a tearing kind of sorrow.
“My mother won’t even speak to me,” he said out of the blue, and immediately lamented the comparison. “Sorry- that was totally inappropriate...”
“It’s fine,” he repeated. “Tell me about your mom.”
“My aunt told me she didn’t want to see me born, but Valiant already paid her off to raise me. You know this, ‘test wombs’ get stipends every month to feed us for as long as we stay alive until we’re eighteen. My mom didn’t want to touch me. She didn’t talk, she went mute. My aunt had to raise me and I stayed in school day cares and extra curricular activities just to avoid her.”
“That’s tough. Sorry.”
“I’m free money. Two years from now they’ll never want to see my face again. I never asked to be born. It makes me wish they were- no. That’s just shitty of me.”
“Wish they were?”
“Dead.”
“No, it’s not shitty. Calm down. I’d never wish anyone dead, but I know where you’re coming from.”
“You’re a better person than me, Felix.”
“I taunt rich kids and then confuse them by laughing instead of shouting when they beat the shit out of me. I don’t know what that makes me. But you know, I don’t mind.”
“...Mind what?”
“The world is so, so ugly. And that’s why it’s so beautiful.”
“You lost me.”
Felix sighed. “It’s fine.”
The room door opened, and almost made Thomas jump. Felix’s mother looked a lot like his, pale skinned, blue eyed, with delicate features. It disturbed him. A hickey on her neck, a bruise under her left eye- it all made him feel ill.
“Aw, Felix, you got yourself a friend! Does he know Nelo?”
“No mom, Nelo is a rich bratty girl who has existential problems and refuses to speak to me. Go back to your boyfriend.”
“His name is Stephan, you’ll like him!”
“No I won't.”
A small pause, and then she left. Thomas looked down at the carpet, a dark navy.
“You can leave if you want, Thomas.”
“If you want me to.”
His voice did not shake, but something felt like shaking and trembling inside. “I want you to stay actually, but I’m embarrassed now. I’m really sorry.”
Thomas, uncertain, took out a notepad and scribbled down his cell phone number and address.
“Call me. We can’t hang out at our house, but there’s places we can go.”
“Alright.”
They both stood. There seemed so much to say, but no way of saying it.
“Thomas- it gets better. It better get better. I will make it get better, or I will die.”
Felix, emperor of distances and silences. Thomas nodded, not entirely following.
“Call me.”
“I will. Bye.”
“Thanks. It’s one of my better ones. My earlier works aren’t as good as this.”
Thomas would have also commented on how strange his voice was, so different from his regular voice, as though the sounds said were a direct window to that world, rather than the faltering noise of a poor, or even adequate messenger. It was like he didn’t even hear him speak.
“That’s all you have so far?”
“I don’t have a lot, but there’s little more than this. I’ll read you a chapter every week if you want.”
“Sure, your writing is great. Really great. I’m so bad with words that I can’t even say how great it is.”
“Thanks, I’m glad you like it. I don’t really show my writing to people.”
“I’ll count myself lucky- hey, I have a question though.”
“Yeah?”
“Was the alien guy based off you?” He said this carefully. Felix’s eyes were a dullish blue-gray, and his hair, while not quite white, was a very light blond. The reference was too obvious.
“Yeah, he’s a gratuitous author insertion. Or an author surrogate, like the pros would call it.”
“That’s kind of funny-”
Thomas could hear the apartment door open loudly from inside Felix’s room, car keys jangling, and the sound of a woman’s laughter, followed quickly by a man. Also, sexual profanities, and the woman was giggling at them, “oh,” and “oh you” and “oh yes” and more girlish chuckling. Felix’s face blanched clean of blood, and his friend whispered.
“Is this a bad time? Should I go home?”
“It’s fine.” It didn’t sound fine. “My mom’s just... just... starved for attention. I don’t recognize this guy. He sounds new.”
“Um, what should I do then?”
“Nothing. You don’t have to do anything.” Felix smiled, and Thomas felt a tearing kind of sorrow.
“My mother won’t even speak to me,” he said out of the blue, and immediately lamented the comparison. “Sorry- that was totally inappropriate...”
“It’s fine,” he repeated. “Tell me about your mom.”
“My aunt told me she didn’t want to see me born, but Valiant already paid her off to raise me. You know this, ‘test wombs’ get stipends every month to feed us for as long as we stay alive until we’re eighteen. My mom didn’t want to touch me. She didn’t talk, she went mute. My aunt had to raise me and I stayed in school day cares and extra curricular activities just to avoid her.”
“That’s tough. Sorry.”
“I’m free money. Two years from now they’ll never want to see my face again. I never asked to be born. It makes me wish they were- no. That’s just shitty of me.”
“Wish they were?”
“Dead.”
“No, it’s not shitty. Calm down. I’d never wish anyone dead, but I know where you’re coming from.”
“You’re a better person than me, Felix.”
“I taunt rich kids and then confuse them by laughing instead of shouting when they beat the shit out of me. I don’t know what that makes me. But you know, I don’t mind.”
“...Mind what?”
“The world is so, so ugly. And that’s why it’s so beautiful.”
“You lost me.”
Felix sighed. “It’s fine.”
The room door opened, and almost made Thomas jump. Felix’s mother looked a lot like his, pale skinned, blue eyed, with delicate features. It disturbed him. A hickey on her neck, a bruise under her left eye- it all made him feel ill.
“Aw, Felix, you got yourself a friend! Does he know Nelo?”
“No mom, Nelo is a rich bratty girl who has existential problems and refuses to speak to me. Go back to your boyfriend.”
“His name is Stephan, you’ll like him!”
“No I won't.”
A small pause, and then she left. Thomas looked down at the carpet, a dark navy.
“You can leave if you want, Thomas.”
“If you want me to.”
His voice did not shake, but something felt like shaking and trembling inside. “I want you to stay actually, but I’m embarrassed now. I’m really sorry.”
Thomas, uncertain, took out a notepad and scribbled down his cell phone number and address.
“Call me. We can’t hang out at our house, but there’s places we can go.”
“Alright.”
They both stood. There seemed so much to say, but no way of saying it.
“Thomas- it gets better. It better get better. I will make it get better, or I will die.”
Felix, emperor of distances and silences. Thomas nodded, not entirely following.
“Call me.”
“I will. Bye.”
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