Wednesday, 23 November 2011

Exit. Chapter 19

It’s a rather odd feeling when you walk away and you realize that the moment is over. I tugged on my tie releasing it from its tight knot, fighting its choking grip on my neck as I walked the hallways trying to think anything at all asides from my mother and her boyfriend. I still remembered how dumb-struck I was when it announced everything. It seemed too surreal for its own good as I could imagine him shoving his tongue down mum’s throat which made me gag.




Was it a cheap technique to lure middle aged widows?

I was doing it for mum nobody else, actually. But then I wasn’t even sure. Soon enough my thoughts invaded my brain erasing off my previous encounter with Bonnie, as I felt myself nervous. Wasn’t it why I was here? I was escaping, wasn’t I? But then what was I escaping life? Technically I wasn’t just escaping my mother’s affair, her marriage, her will to have more children, to have grandchildren, to have another ideal son, since I was even close to perfect. I was being so pathetic dying my hair colours that would have made her mad, pretending to inhale, but spitting it out in seconds due to its bitter taste and the possibility of drugs was simply crossed out. Maybe that was the only thing I was thankful for. I could bring girls in, but that never stopped her and I never was much of a player.

She thought I looked cute in ties.

I sighted, trying to relax. It was just a light argument, I really shouldn’t have gotten us into detention. We could have gotten expelled, but I shrugged it off, realizing that I could do something unacceptable in my last teenage years. Like a small kid I believed that poof, at the age of eighteen I’ll be drinking booze like water, dragging weed or something less harmful and my arms on girl’s skinny shoulders. But as soon as the age grew nearer it seemed less possible. But then did I want to be some sort of womanizer? I guess, it’s just something a feeling that I should be loved, adored by many pretty and never aging women along with myself. It was like an immortal desire of every man, as I had questioned my friends, family members carefully. Everybody seemed to have the fear of death, aging. Was that why so many took younger partners, like an accessory to make themselves younger. Like a bright banner which seemed to yell out ‘look at me, I can still have sex despite my age’.

Was that it? Was that the meaning of life?

“Can we meet again?”

“Sure, why not?”

“I can be late, mum could suspect something. She says older guys are perverted.”

“I’ll wait for you then.”

I couldn’t object as I saw her in the hallway a few minutes after her big dark green eyes looking at me with interest. The dialog was short, as I tried to convince myself to call her annoying but I simply could not. I just stared at her, at how she tucked the black hair behind her ears, revealing really small hoops which would get bigger with her age.

“Is it a date?” She asked her eyes shining proudly. Had she over watched Hollywood chick flicks? Was this the scenario where I end up with a four year old girl? I sighted, realizing that I could practically adopt her, but the image of my ‘parents’ behind the door gave me a rather bitter taste that I could even tell her to get lost, as she only was a child.

I rubbed my temples.

Was my mother pregnant?

She waited patiently, blinking quickly as if afraid to miss a sudden move of mine.

What were they doing right now?

I glanced at her, the question finally getting to my mind as I began to shake afraid of meeting them. Just a door seemed to divide us and I could feel their intense gaze on me hungrily, eating, devouring me as they hadn’t seen me for months.

“Sure. Whatever.” I snapped, shoving her aside and opening the door, closing it behind me.

My parents saw her.


Was she?

I raised a hand in the air and opened the door excusing myself.

She had gone.

I rested my back against the door feeling myself slide. Then I began to shake, as I felt tears trail down my cheeks. She was pregnant. Of course she was. That bastard touched her, but then why shouldn’t he? My mother wasn’t bad looking and what had I expected? Did I think that they played twister, monopoly or video games all the time?

What was I, a fool?

A sob emitted from my lips, as my body tensed, shaking heavier with each breath. I heard them fiddling with the doorknob but I had no power to stand up, tell them to fuck off, yell what the hell are they thinking. But then I told them my intentions to leave them forever. But for what? What did I want out of life? What was I going to live on? I considered football, as my coach bragged about me being magnificent.


I stood up, my body breaking in sobs as I walked onto the back staircase my parents getting lost in the hallways as I walked fast.

Was everybody gone?

Was everybody going to cheer, draw their faces with cheep face paint and snog whenever we’d score or lose?

“Mason, you alright?”

Fuck you.

“Yes.” I rubbed the remains of wet trails upon my cheeks as my coach patted me on the shoulder talking about how I should talk to him about everything and all the shit adults talk about. Is that what the adult life is about? Betraying, marrying, having asshole kids and giving shit advice?

“Mason, Mason!” My mother and the womb. I stare at her as she rubs her hand across my cheek in a according to her motherly instincts soothing touch. She tells me stuff about the stars, about the birds and the bees but I just stare at her feeling the tears come back up to my eyes as I try to keep them inside by sending pulses of pain to my brain by biting my bottom lip. I fail and I break in sobs as my mother hugs me, talking more.

Stars, bees, suns, birds, love, kids, nappies, gag.

She kisses my forehead as my cheeks are too salty and what stepdad wants to taste his own step kid’s tears while kissing his beloved?


Fuck you.

“Good luck, son.” I stare as she goes away and I pull on my shirt, removing the tie, hopefully for the last time.

Chapter 20

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