for which he had started out as a mail clerk. His mother was most likely out socializing with the other homemakers of the subdivision, possibly playing bridge. He remembers back a short time ago, when the bell rang for the last time for that week of school. He remembers raising his head and seeing Carry look at him sadly, but what type of sadness he wondered. Was it a sadness for him, or for herself, or possibly both? Now he does not care if it is either. He had made up his mind as he rode the bus home that he will harden himself so no one can ever hurt him again.
He places his books on the counter in the kitchen and goes to the refrigerator. He looks at the food and drink within it and decides that none of these will do. He walks across the kitchen to a cabinet next to the sink and opens it. There he sees what will satisfy his tormented mind. He removes three bottles from the shelves and grabs a glass from a cabinet on the other side of the sink. Removing the lids from the three bottles, he pours a little of the liquids from each of them.
Carefully he replaces the lids and places the bottles just as he had found them.
He raises the half-full glass to his lips as the full aroma of the liquid fills his nostrils. He stops as the bitter odor reminds him of the taste. After a short pause, he remembers how relaxing it is, and so he begins to drink. It is just a sip at first as he swallows the harsh substance, burning as it goes down his throat. Soon the glass is empty. He washes it clean, then dries it with the towel in the sink, and replaces the glass in the cabinet, just as he has done several times before.
His head feels lighter, and he begins to feel the anguish leaving his mind; the liquor has done the job he wanted it to do. He then walks up the stairs and into his room, shutting the door. He places a thick stack of records on his player, after which he lies down upon his bed. Within a few seconds the loud music begins as he falls into a semi-sleep, always aware of the rock and roll music as it plays. He feels relaxed and unable to be hurt by anything or anybody, and it fills him with satisfaction.
:1975, May 30
:1:56 p.m.
Mr. Pope, a tall brown-haired teacher, drags a dark red-haired freshman down the hallways of
Naperville North High School, towards the vice-principal’s office. The boy just intentionally tripped one of his fellow students, in plain view of the teacher as he begins to watch the students of his study hall. The boy goes along smiling all the way, proud of himself for becoming just as mean as his fellow students had been to him a year and a half earlier. His haughty attitude is also due to the fact that it is his last day of school. This is due to the fact that his family is moving again. The fourth move in his fifteen years of being on this planet of mean and self-serving people, as he sees it. For him all past memories have been erased. He has no recollection of going by himself to church in Salt Lake City, or of the snows on the plains and mountain ranges of Montana before that. For him there is only the present, and he is going to enjoy it by being as mean as possible to as many people as possible. As they turn the last corner towards the office, the young man sees a familiar face. A face he had once thought often about, but now only hates, as he hates all the faces he has ever known in any of his schools. He turns his head back to look at the two girls that now follow behind him.
“I hope I never see either of you ever again!” He yells proudly back at Carry, and her best friend.
“The same here!” Carry’s friend says, as Carry looks on with a shocked expression on her face.
It is a look Tim knew he will never forget, as they vanish from view, as Tim and the teacher turn another corner. Tim is now even more proud of himself. Saying these last words in Naperville makes this year complete for him. Now he is ready to leave this hated school and all with it. He is leaving behind him only enemies, after destroying whatever friendships he might have had by becoming just as he thought the other had been to him. As he walks down the hall joyously, he thinks to himself that this event is made even more enjoyable, by the fact that he has just drunk a large serving of whisky.
THE DARKNESS
:Tennessee, Memphis
:1975, August 10
:1:34 p.m.
It has been an easy summer for Timothy. He is not troubled any longer by the pressure he had experienced in Naperville. His drinking has cut back, but is not totally stopped. He walks many times in his new surroundings and thinks deeply about his past. He even remembers back to when he lived in Montana, and in Salt Lake, like the times he had gone to church alone. As these memories fill his head, he recalls the absence of his parents from his life.
He recognizes that they fed him through the years, as well as clothed him, but in important things he comprehends that it was he, and he alone that he had to depend on. His father had become totally engulfed into the world of business. A world that took so much of his time that at the end of the day he would come home, change into a robe, and drink whisky in front of the television.
Soon after this, he would grow tired and fall asleep in his recliner. While this took place Tim watched his mother become the socialite. She became so involved with so many social activities that when Tim returned to where he lived, it was usually to an empty house. A place that was assumed to be a home, but it never really felt like one.
Now Timothy hopes things can become different. They have moved to Memphis, to start a new life. His father has opened a business of his own an enterprise that his father has said would be for Tim and him to run together. This gives Timothy a feeling of hope. A glimmer that his relationship with at least his father will improve. Already his mother is out hunting for the social life, which she had buried herself into in Illinois.
Tim stops his stroll and looks at the pool in the townhouses into which his family has moved.
Sitting in a lounge chair is a girl around thirteen years old. She is wearing a purple football jersey, which totally covers her thin body to just above her knees.
“Hey, Christa,” Timothy calls, as the curly-brown- haired girl looks up to see the red-headed young man standing by the wrought iron fence that surrounds the pool. As she stands and begins to walk over to him, he notices part of the cut-off blue jeans hidden by her jersey.
“Hi, Tim. Are you going to come swimming today?” She asks as he glances at her hazel eyes and then quickly looks at the pool.
“I don’t know. I might,” he replies.
“Well, the others will be here soon, and we were thinking about playing `Alligator.’ Why don’t you go get your swim suit, and join us?” she asks him in a tone of friendship, a tone that Timothy had not heard very often in his fifteen years.
“All right, I’ll be right back!” he says with a big smile on his face. He turns back down the sidewalk toward his townhouse.
“Okay then, see ya in a minute,” she says as she smiles at him and then turns and goes back to her chair.
Later that night Tim walks slowly back to his home, as he holds each side of the beach towel wrapped around his neck. He smiles as he thinks about all the fun he has just had. He thinks back upon the game they just played, and how much fun it was leaping into the water as he attempted not being tagged by the person in the pool. He giggles a little to himself as he remembers only being touched twice, and each time it was by Christa.
Timothy knows that he likes her. She is the first girl that he has ever felt relaxed around. He knows that she is his friend, and he likes that. Girls have always been a problem to him. There were many times that he liked a girl, and so he approached them, asking if they could start a relationship, but it never worked. None of the girls he liked, except one, ever liked him. They thought he was strange in some way, and it nags at his insides as he remembers that fact.
`I promise that I will never do that again,’ He thinks to himself. `I’m not going to ruin this friendship.’ Again he recalls all the fun he had and walks into his home.
He looks at the television as he enters. A John Wayne movie is on, as his father sits in his lounge chair in just a robe and underwear. His eyes never l
eave the set as Timothy slides the glass door shut and locks it. He walks out of the family room, through the kitchen, where his mother looks at him.
“Now put those wet things in the laundry room,” she says as she takes two glasses of liquor into the family room.
“All right,” Tim replies as he goes up to his room and changes. He returns downstairs a short time later and places his wet swim suit and towel in the laundry room. He looks at his parents as they continue to watch the movie. He leaves the room, with no one saying any words to each other. As he reenters the kitchen, he looks at the bottles of liquor set out on the counter. For a moment he thinks of having a drink. Then his mind is filled with the laughter of a dozen kids, splashing of water, and the voice of a friend shouting, “I got you Tim!” So he turns to the refrigerator and takes out a can of cola and walks back up the steps. An hour later he is in bed asleep.
The sky is totally black, as Tim looks down his old street in Salt Lake City. Front porch lights from the houses on each side of it slightly spread their light upon it. As Timothy cautiously walks down it, he feels a strange sensation in the air, a perception that frightens the young man as he looks into the darkness at the end of the street. Suddenly he hears what he was afraid of hearing -