Extraterrestrian alien tracks, bike races, and prairy expeditions - being ten years old. (526 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.12 on 11 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by shane mcpherson (View user info) at 2004-05-10 02:10:04 EDT
"Did you hear?" said my old man, framed in the summer window in front of me.
I have no idea what he is talking about. I was sitting at the kitchen island eating a sandwich, perched midstream in curiosity as to what I was supposed to hear.
"Then you don't know," said my old man. I shake my head.
"Chuck has a girlfriend," he says, leaned back on the kitchen sink, arms crossed, staring at the air above me.
I didn't know what to say. The peanut butter and jelly in my hands fell from the bread and plopped on the kitchen counter.
My father's face was blank. You had a great idea of what he felt, but you couldn't put it into words. For three days now my brother had been in rehab for drug use on a 12 step program, and as a family we had tried to support him as best we could, and today, my old man paid him a visit to find that most of his attention was derived to his current girlfriend: a supposed college student out of Germany somewhere. No one knew about it until now. Apparently, her and the 19 year old Chuck were made official a couple of days ago.
My dad left the kitchen a bit irritated. I had scheduled myself to visit him that day, and I was now filled with the knowledge of a girlfriend that threw my father into disarray. I was a bit uneasy, but really interested, too.
Driving to the hospital's Drug and Alcohol Resource Center, it dawned on me that this day in particular was the prettiest of all thus far that summer; as it hovered in the mid eighties and revealed a sky as clear as the obviousness of my brother's drug addiction. I passed some familiar fields and bike trails as I made my way, fields my brother and I commonly played on when we were kids of ten years old.
In the resource center, I was guided through a maze of doctor's-office like walls by a gentle receptionist, and here and there I'd find ragged old men with scruffy beards wait in chairs next to offices. Men who very clearly came from broken, disadvantaged households and held very difficult lives, yet, to shuttering unease, still occupied the same building as my own brother.
The receptionist brought me to a room, and pointing through a cart glass window, showed me to my brother. He was standing on the deck, hand in hand with the supposed love interest I had been told about a couple hours ago. I walked out to say hi, but cautiously approached what did not look like nor would be a very comfortable experience.
"Hey Shane, how's it going?" he said, very nervously, looking like he does when he's normally around my father. "Dad talk to you?" he asked. His girlfriend stood there, looking vague and incongruous, yet her hand still laced with my brother's. Meanwhile, Chuck had a look of pristine concern on his face, of whether or not I had conversed with my father about anything of this sort. As I nodded, he begged for more. I merely told him he told me already, and he beseeched that I let him know if he was or looked angry about anything. I told him he looked somewhat thrown, but more annoyed that his attention was steered on the girl next to him. I tried to remain factual, but Chuck groaned in aggravation and irritation anyway.
I had never had family member get involved with anything like this, as I stood on the deck of the building, and a light cool breeze blew through my hair. I had no idea what to do, and felt uncomfortable, but standing there, while Chuck and his girlfriend were locked hand in hand and muttering a little, it felt as though I was doing all I could.
Being seventeen started to rank below being ten-years-old again.
The students of rehab were called into a circle discussion, and about eighteen or nineteen addicts sat around a room to commence another session. As the floor went around the room, addicts began to cry, complain, pour their hearts out, and welcome themselves. My brother, sitting just inside his girlfriend, was the last to go before me, as the two sat silently and spread coy grins across their faces, to where I thought of other things. Their turn came up, and the first to go was the lady, who casually hummed in thought before stating her name and saying, "I'm Chuck's girlfriend." Then it went silent.
"Do you have a thought, dear?" asked the counselor.
Chuck and his girlfriend laughed tensely, she ended up shaking her head in no response, and gave a small effort to keep it light by giggling.
Then Tim went. First he introduced himself, said why he was there, and turned the attention to me. "This is my younger brother, Shane," he said. "And, I'm really glad he's here. His being here means a lot to me, and although he may be younger than me, I really do look up to him, so I'm just glad he's here." Warmth surrounded me over as his words came out, out of the mouth that frequently lied to me, lied before revealing an addiction to drugs, but nevertheless, anyone can cope for that sort of flattery, and so warmth surrounded me over.
But it sure felt that a circle discussion was not the time to confess such. Not as he sat next to that girl. Earlier that day my father came to visit Tim and left rather quickly, and now, even though my father was a much, much stronger man than I, I could see why he left so soon.
When circle time had come to a close, Chuck and I sat in the lobby and got into an argument over our dad. Commonly the more compliant son out of the two of us, I aimed to tell Chuck what good it had done me to percieve our father as a mentor and not an oppressor, but Chuck firmly believed that I was the favorite one, and that Chuck was nothing more than the desired whipping boy when the truth was we couldn't have asked for a more fair-haired father.
I tried not to look too much at the hospital fields and pathways on the edge of the road as I drove home, one arm out the window and my Michigan State hat over my hair, home to the discovery of the extraterrestrial alien tracks, bike races, and cross country prairy expeditions; the spot of our world where being ten-years-old was just as simple as making penut butter and jelly.
Where life never got complicated.
User Reviews
Submitted by stupidwhiteguy (user info) at 2004-05-10 23:02:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
eh? Yes?
Submitted by Yes (user info) at 2004-05-10 22:53:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
interesting... a story without a story... hmmm....
Submitted by stupidwhiteguy (user info) at 2004-05-10 22:34:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
ya uh... my brother's real name is Tim, I guess his name leaked out somewhere when I went through this thing to change the names. Do you get it? Chuck? That's normally the cover up name. Laugh with me! hahaha.... :-(
Submitted by AlwaysAnEagle (user info) at 2004-05-10 16:08:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Good story by the way!
Submitted by AlwaysAnEagle (user info) at 2004-05-10 16:08:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Rating: 1 on 6 reviews (Rate this item) (View all ratings)
Submitted by shane mcpherson (View user info) at 2004-05-10 02:10:04
I think Shane is the person telling the story. The other dude is the brother.
Addicts are often told to not date for (usually) a year after leaving a program because you have a lot to figure out how to control in yourself before you can introduce new elements to your life. Think about the butterflies involved in a new relationship and the dippy things that we do for significant others...that's an instability for addicts that can pull the rug out from under them.
Submitted by Luckystar (user info) at 2004-05-10 14:40:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
so is his name tim or shane? i confuseded
Submitted by lojope (user info) at 2004-05-10 09:28:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
It was a little hard to read, it seemed very emotionless. I didn't understand why him having a girlfriend was so bad.
Submitted by Jeriko2k3 (user info) at 2004-05-10 04:32:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Very well written
Submitted by Herpes (user info) at 2004-05-10 03:49:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
How about picking "A" title.
Submitted by Chuck (user info) at 2004-05-10 02:26:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
+2 b/c my name is in it.
Submitted by shitfuck (user info) at 2004-05-10 02:23:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Constipated thinking.