Date: Wed, 11 Jul 2001 07:42:58 +0800
From: Corey Castor <snatched@alloymail.com>
Subject: Bleak Future (Part 3a) - Remembrance

BLEAK FUTURE - Remembrance

Part 3a (Paul)

Waiting


I try not to remember a lot about the first few weeks of high school, not
because it's so painful, but because I hate to hang on to the past. I hate
being the last one to be over things. I'm usually one of the first to try
things then the first to let go. It's who I am. I don't dwell, but there's
this one thing that I've been dwelling on for three years, something that
my heart or mind or soul, or whatever it is, is afraid to let go of. Don't
ask me why. All I know is that I'm afraid to forget this. But I'm also
afraid that when I finally open the doors to this memory, it will in turn
open doors that have been closed for a very long time.

There are things that happened ten years ago that I might start
remembering, things that I've been locking away, not for storage, but for
disposal. I don't want them, but this, I want. And I guess that as long as
I keep and open this one recollection, I'll have to keep and open the
others too.

It's not something I tell people, but I've kept it with me for as long as I
could. I remember being fourteen, riding my bike around town. I remember
not wanting any of my friends to come along. (Sometimes I need a break from
them, but this was the first time that they actually let me get away with
it.) I remember going far away from "my side" of the town, whatever the
fuck that meant. It was a term my parents never stopped using. I remember
stopping at a building for absolutely no reason but to look at it's
ugliness - it was brown with red splotches. For no reason at all, I stopped
racing with the wind to look at this random three-story building. I circled
it twice to see if there was something special there that I couldn't
readily see because I couldn't make myself leave. I sat on the front steps
for a while and thought about how if my parents saw me here, they'd have a
temper tantrum. It was hot, being the middle of July, so I took my shirt
off and sat for a while, thinking. This place seemed deserted. I would've
never thought that people lived here if there weren't cars in the parking
lot. I waited half an hour - for what, I couldn't tell you if you asked -
and would have fallen asleep if I hadn't heard a car approaching.

"Tristan! Tristan! It's just temporary, hon. It's only a temporary
arrangement!" The woman driving the car sounded older than she looked
because she looked about twenty-seven and sounded as though she was twice
that age. She looked beautiful but tired. The boy she was speaking to, on
the other hand, looked about twelve, maybe thirteen. They weren't even out
of the car when I first heard him speak.

"Mom, why do we have to be here? Why couldn't I just stay in New York with
Dad? This place is in the middle of nowhere..." he trailed off.

I took a quick peak at him and saw that he had a painful look on his
face. I wanted to tell him that this town wasn't that bad. I'd lived here
all my life after all. But, I couldn't bring myself to move. He was... I
don't want to say beautiful because it's so overused that I think people
forget what it means. He looked like one of those nymphs in the fairytale
books my mom used to try to read to me when I was younger. You know, the
little angels or fairies with these faces that God would only give those
that he worked with everyday. His hair was long (to his shoulders) and so
black that I wondered if in the dark, with the contrast of his white skin,
did he get mistaken for a bald kid. He seemed to be hiding his face behind
it, as if it was a shield. When he got out of the car, he sat on the hood
while his mother got something out of the trunk and his hair moved from his
face. When I saw the brightness of his blue eyes and the whiteness of his
skin, I thought I had to be dreaming. I don't want to say beautiful because
it was deeper, it wasn't just the beauty of it all. It was how everything
was happening. It was how this couldn't have been a coincidence. First, I
go for a ride without my friends which is almost always impossible to do,
then I stop at this strange building that I'd never seen before (I doubted
that I'd be able to find my way back home), and then after that, I stumble
upon this kid that might have as well fallen from a fairytale book, or even
heaven because for a minute, I thought his face was glowing. His angular
face reminded me of the antique dolls my grandmother kept in her house in
California. His beauty seemed artificial and natural at the same time. His
small nose, lips, and ears - or ear I should say since his hair hid the
rest of his face - made him look so much like a baby that for a moment he
seemed younger.

I can't really say what I was feeling in those first few minutes. I've
never been really sure, but I couldn't close my mouth for the life of me,
even though I knew that if I didn't, my chin would soon be covered with
drool. It wasn't infatuation that I was feeling... yet. It was definitely
not love. It might have been wonder. It might have been awe because my eyes
would NOT move. So I stared. I watched him sit on the car with what looked
like tears in his eyes, but I think they were sparkles. I had to laugh. His
eyes had sparkles in them. His clothes, I think, were irrelevant because I
didn't acknowledge them. Not that I imagined him naked, it's just that they
weren't much of a factor. I didn't care what he was wearing.

When his mother got what she wanted from the trunk, he leapt off the hood
to help her. They were shopping bags. They walked towards where I was
sitting (because it was the front steps of the building) and I got
nervous. I scrambled to put my shirt back on and searched for words that
weren't there because by now, speaking seemed so far away, I could live on
just staring at him. The closer they got, the more nervous I got.

"Um... uh... do you need some... like, help or something?" I asked, holding
on to the tail end of my shirt while they stopped in front of me, waiting
for me to get up.

"No thanks, we got it," Tristan answered, exasperated. "You could move out
of the way though."

"Tristan," his mother said. She didn't sound disappointed. She sounded
worried, tired.

"I could open the door if you want," I said. If my parents knew that I was
acting like a bellhop, they'd kill me. No, actually, they were too good for
that. They'd ask their assistant to hire someone to hire a hit man to kill
me. They'd want no connection to the murder.

I raced up the few steps to the front door and opened it. After they'd gone
through, I realized that there was one more door to open before they could
go up the stairs to their apartment, so I ran to that door and pulled. It
wouldn't open, so I pulled again, but it wouldn't budge. "Uh... I think
this door's stuck," I said, worried that they'd think that I was weak or
stupid or something.

"Nah, it's just locked. Usually, the front door is open so that you can get
inside to use the intercom to someone's apartment and the second is locked
because you have to be buzzed in. I have keys though," Tristan's mother
explained.

Tristan wasn't talking. He wasn't even looking at me. What bothered me the
most was that he looked so sad. I think it added to his beauty though.

"Oh," I sighed. "Well, I guess it was nice meeting you. I'm Paul."

"Well, it was nice meeting you too, Paul. Wasn't it, Tristan?"

"Yes, m'am. It was nice meeting you, Paul," Tristan answered in this
monotonous drawl. He wasn't looking at his mother or me. He was just
staring at the glass door, like he couldn't wait to be inside.

"Well, I guess I'll see you later." I had to leave sometime. I was afraid
that my mom would have a fit if I wasn't home for dinner.

"Unless, you'd like to come in. You seem like nice boy."

"Okay. I mean, I guess. Sure."

Their apartment was small, but it seemed efficient enough. It was strange
because my kitchen was three times as big as theirs, maybe four times
even. And their living room was as big as my mom's closet. That's an
exaggeration, but you get the point.

"So, do you live around here?" Tristan's mom asked.

"Nope. I live pretty far from here. On the other side, I guess."

"Oh, that's right. The other side," she said, kind of sarcastically. She
was making fun of it.

I laughed, "Yeah."

"Make yourself at home on the couch. I'm going to put the groceries away."

A half wall separated the kitchen and the living room. It was so weird. If
it wasn't for the slight difference of the tile in the kitchen and the
carpet in the living room, they could've been mistake for one room.

After fixing things in the kitchen, Tristan's mom brought me a drink. I
think it was Cool-Aid.

"I'm Judith, by the way," she said, handing me a glass. She looked around,
then called out Tristan's name. "Tris! Tris, come out this minute and clean
up your mess!" She sat on the loveseat next to the couch, and when Tristan
came out, she ordered him to pick up a few Playstation and Tips & Tricks
magazines. When he was through, he looked to his mother and immediately sat
down on the couch near me "We just moved here about a week ago. How old are
you Paul?"

"Fourteen," I said, sucking on my lower-lip to savor the taste of the
Cool-Aid. She did something to it to make it taste really good.

"Tristan's thirteen. You guys should be friends, right Tris?"

"Whatever you say, mom." He was sitting on the opposite end of the couch
looking out the window. He didn't seem interested in anything his mom or I
had to say.

"What grade are you going to in the fall?" Judith asked. She seemed to be
taking more interest in me than Tristan did, which unnerved me. For a
minute, I didn't feel as cool as I thought I was.

"I'm starting high school in September."

"Wow, so's Tristan. That must be exciting."

"Uh, yeah. I guess it sort of is." After a moment of uncomfortable silence,
I looked at Tristan one last time to see if he was going to turn around
anytime soon and look at me, but he looked engrossed in whatever the hell
he was staring at out the window. So I decided to get out before I missed
dinner at home. "I should go though," I said standing up. "My mom wants me
back home in time for dinner. Maybe I'll see you guys around."

"I'm sure you will. You could show Tristan around town sometime."

"Nice meeting you Judith. You too, Tristan." I started towards the door,
disappointed with the whole ordeal. Tristan seemed so bored with me. When I
got to the door of the living room, I turned around to wave one last time
and saw that Tristan was standing right in front of me.

"It was nice meeting you," he said with his hands in his pockets. His long
hair was behind his ears, and for the first time, I saw his whole face. My
heart sank because I don't think that I'd ever seen anything like it in all
of my fourteen years alive. It was surreal, and for quite a while I
couldn't move.

"Uh, yeah... Right," was all I could get out before I left the apartment.



Now that I think about it, maybe it wasn't Tristan's beauty that mesmerized
me. It might have been the fact that he was the first boy that I was ever
attracted to. It might have been the fact that he reminded me of myself
when I looked in the mirror, or maybe the fact that he did look somewhat
like a nymph.



For weeks after that, I rode my bike around his block without my friends (I
can't remember how I got away with it), but never got another glimpse of
him. I saw his mother sometimes, outside, sitting on the steps. She always
waved, and I always waved back. She seemed nice. I didn't see Tristan again
until a week before school started. He sat on his bike in front of the dam
near my house. His hair was much shorter. He now had a crew cut. He stared
at the water, deep in thought. I approached slowly, nervously on my bike,
but didn't want to scare him off, so I called out to him.

When he turned around, he said, "Hey." With shorter hair, I could see his
eyes, his nose, his mouth, his cheeks more clearly, without the shielding
or framing of his long hair in the background. His face reminded me of a
porcelain doll.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, a little out of breath, but not from
riding my bike.

"Waiting," he said and turned back to staring at the water.

"O...kay. For what?" I asked, curious, looking at the water to see if there
was something special there that I couldn't see.

"Nothing. I'm just waiting."

"Oh. I can wait with you if you want."

"Nah. You don't have to. I like to wait alone," he said, his eyes never
moving from the water to me while we are speaking.

"Oh. Okay then. I guess I'll see you in school."

"Don't remind me," he breathed, then frowned. "I almost forgot about it."

"Sorry. I don't see how though. I mean, it starts in just a couple of
days."

"I know. I just..." He turned around and looked directly at me with the
most severe frown I'd ever seen on anyone's face to date. His face was
devoid of sadness, devoid of anger, devoid of disappointment. All I saw was
annoyance, exasperation. "Look, do you mind if I wait alone?" His beauty
didn't fade, it just... changed, I guess. He no longer looked like a nymph.

"Um... Sure," I said, a bit scared. "Sorry. I'll see you in school."

For hours after that I rode my bike, thinking that I could have been
friendlier, nicer, more polite. There had to be something I could to make
him like me. I wanted him to like me, like everyone else did, but not quite
like that. I suppose that's when my infatuation began.



Copyright (c) 2001 Castor

Please do not reproduce any of this without my permission. Just email if
you want to use it. I just want to know where it's going is all.

(7/10/01)


NOTE: My AOL screen name is TediousTelling in case you want to comment but
don't want to email.