NO DISCLAIMER!
Author's note: Same old, same old. Email if you'd like to comment, or if you'd like to as questions. I'm most likely answer in one or two days.
BLEAK FUTURE - Remembrance
Part 3b (Paul)
Moving On... Well, Sort Of
I know James. As a matter of fact, I've known her for about five years. I met her in the sixth grade. She saved me from getting my ass kicked, and I've been grateful to her ever since. There's really no point in me mentioning how it happened, but it's been swimming in my head since I mentioned the first time I saw Tristan. It was late September, my third week in middle school, my first time having to switch from class to class, teacher to teacher, friend to friend. It was exhausting, but I was getting the hang of it. I'd made a lot of new friends.
I remember saying something to an eighth grader that I wasn't supposed to, being tossed against a wall of lockers, and falling to the floor feigning unconsciousness. I guess I wasn't very good at it because when the older kid saw my eyes blinking while I desperately tried to make them appear calm and dead, he kicked at my ribs. Truth is, I can't even remember what I said to the jerk. Anyway, while he got ready to kick again, I heard this voice screaming at him. It sounded pretty far away. For a second, I thought it was a teacher, but the voice was too high and we were downstairs near the gym locker rooms, where the teachers almost never dared travel.
"Gary! What do you think you're doing?!?" someone yelled.
"Beating the shit out of this prick!" he said, with his leg pulled back, ready to attack again.
I lied there, wishing I could see whom it was who stopped him from kicking me a second time. An angel, I thought, but then again, no such thing existed in middle school. It was every man for himself.
"Gary, leave the kid alone before I get John to kick YOUR ass," she said, so calmly that I thought that this had to be some kind of dream.
I lay on the floor and took frantic breaths through my mouth - my nose was bleeding - then, I blacked out. When I opened my eyes, which I imagined was more than a few minutes later (maybe ten), I saw a girl with baggy pants sitting by my legs.
"You all right, kid?" she asked.
Amazed that no one was there to laugh at me, I just nodded "yes."
"Good," she said, then got up and started to walk away.
Scared that I'd be left alone in the hall for teachers, students, or maybe even Gary to find me again, I yelled, "My name's Paul!" after her. She laughed, and walked back towards me. "Just in case you were wondering," I added.
She gave me her hand while I still lay on the floor. "Jennifer," she said, shaking my hand. "But if you ever call me that, I'll have to kick your ass. Everyone here calls me James, unless they didn't get the memo, in which case they get their ass kicked." Then pulling me up, she asked, "Wanna know why?"
I said nothing and looked at her for a while. I was just glad that my friends weren't there to see me on the ground with blood flowing from my nose like water down a waterfall.
She laughed, "Come on. The last bell's gonna ring any minute, and you missed homeroom while you were taking your nap. Want me to walk you home?"
I thought for a minute, "My mom usually picks me up, but I guess I can't let her see me with blood all over my face." So she walked me home.
She never told me why she was called James, but a few weeks later, when she invited me to her house, I found out that John was her older brother and Samantha was her mother. They both called her James like everyone else. I also saw pictures of the family around the living room. In it, I saw a man on one side, John and James in the middle with another boy who might have been a few years older than James but younger than John, and Samantha at the end. I didn't ask any questions, but I assumed that the man was James' father and the boy, her brother.
During the first few days of my freshmen year, I looked all over school for Tristan. I felt obsessed. Not because I thought that I might like him the way a boy should like a girl, but because I wanted him to see how cool I was - all of my friends thought I was cool, so it had to be a fact. I wanted us to be friends. I wanted to know why he was so pale and why his eyes were so blue. It was strictly platonic because it couldn't have been anything else.
When I finally found out where his locker was, I paid the boy who used a locker near his five dollars to trade with me, but for two weeks, I was afraid to use it. I'd pass by, see him, and quickly walk away. One morning, about ten minutes before the first bell rang (no one's allowed upstairs to the lockers before that bell), I went to my locker to get a few books. I'd decided to take all of my books in the morning - no matter how heavy they were - and carry all of them to every class so that I wouldn't have to use my locker during the school day. Sometimes, I'd let Alex or Matt carry one for me, or I'd use their lockers. They didn't mind, but they usually gave me looks indicating that I was acting strange.
I didn't expect to see Tristan that morning, but he was there ten minutes before he was supposed to be, standing at his locker with a girl whom I thought I might recognize. Moving a bit closer, I realized it was James.
Walking towards them with my heart pounding out of my chest, I waved at Tristan. He waved back, again uninterested. Then my eyes met with James'. She smiled, but somehow, Tristan didn't notice. Quickly I reached for the lock, opened my locker, grabbed a book (the wrong one), and left.
After school, James caught up with me on my way to the parking lot. "Long time since I had a talk with you," she said, smiling.
"Uh... yeah," I said, keeping my pace, making my way through the hall and towards the doors leading outside.
"What was that thing by the lockers all about?" she asked.
"I don't know. I kinda know that kid. Well, not really. Just... sort of, I guess."
"I saw how you looked at him. He didn't act like he knew you."
"Yeah, I know. So, how you been, anyway?"
"Not bad. Being a sophomore's much easier than being a freshman. I feel sorry for you guys," she smiled.
"It's not that bad for me so far."
When we arrived outside, I saw Alex sitting in his car, waiting impatiently. "I have to go," I said, "I'll call you, maybe."
She looked deeply into me and said, "Remember when I said that about two years ago? It never happened."
"Yeah." I took another look at Alex. He hates to wait; he was running his hands through his hair and frowning, doing everything but yelling out to me.
"I'll see you tomorrow," she said, her smile as bright as a rainbow. There's always been something benevolent about her.
"I'll call," I said. I thought about how she might know Tristan, how she might be friends with him, how she might help ME befriend him. "I'll call," I say, so low that I doubt that she heard, and ran to Alex's car.
James is the first person to know me better than my mother. She is the first that I tell my secret, strange desires to. I don't remember how it happened. Maybe I don't want to remember. All I know is that after we rekindle our friendship - because we hadn't spoken since she left middle school - I tell her about Tristan.
"So... I don't get it," she said.
We were talking on the phone. I was afraid my parents were listening on the other line. "Want to go to the mall? I can tell you there," I'd said. I was fidgeting because it was the first time I'd admitted to it aloud.
"I don't know. I just keep thinking about him," I said when we arrived at the mall. We walked around, just hanging out. "I just want to know about him. Know him better, I guess."
"So... wait. I still don't get it. Do you like him or something?" She didn't seem confused, just curious.
"I just want to be his friend. He seems cool. Is he cool?"
"Yeah, he's cool. He's kind of cute too."
My face flushed. I could feel the blood rushing upward. I smiled. "I guess."
James laughed hysterically. "You guess? Dude, whatever. I'll get him to talk to you."
At that moment, I remember thinking, "James is a goddess. I should get on my knees and kiss her feet or something." That thought faded quickly.
James tutored Tristan in English Mondays and Wednesdays. He and another boy, Sean McCarthy, an eighth grader, met at her house twice a week to do reading comprehension. I knew Sean McCarthy. I mean, I didn't KNOW him, but I'd heard of him. I'd heard some weird things about him, actually. James' plan was for me to be at her house when the boys arrived.
I sat on the couch and watched TV, so nervous that I hardly knew what it was that I was watching. Sean and Tristan walked together to the house. I could hear them laughing outside. My heart raced.
When the doorbell rang, James popped her head into the living room to make sure I was okay. "Ready?" she asked.
"For what?" I whined, "I'm fine."
She smiled, "Whatever."
When Tristan and Sean got inside, they sat beside me. Sean was jumpy, hyper. "What are you watching?" he asked; his leg was practically rubbing against mine.
"I don't know," I said. It was easier than lying.
Tristan seemed skeptical. "You don't know what you're watching?" I was too mesmerized by his lips and eyes to answer. "Give me the remote then."
I hand it to him. "Geez. Sean, what do you wanna watch?"
"MTV. They have half-naked guys dancing around," he said, laughing. Tristan started to laugh too.
"You like half-naked guys?" I asked. I wasn't confused; I was curious.
"Oh, God. Are you one of those guys who's gonna start calling me stupid things like fag and shit? That's so old." He talked with his hands all over the place. He was the most effeminate boy I'd ever met.
"No," I answered.
"Good. Then, yeah. MTV guys are hot." He smiled at me. He was friendly; Tristan was not.
For two hours, I sat in the living room, bored, while Tristan laughed with James and Sean. I was ignored. At eight, I decided to go home. I called James to the kitchen and told her that I was leaving.
"Is everything okay?" She was concerned.
"Yeah. He doesn't like me. I'm gonna go."
"I'm really sorry. Let me get him to walk home with you or something. He'll do it if I make him." Before I can stop her, she calls him to the kitchen. "Paul's going home. Go with him cause he can't go alone."
"Why not? It's not like he's five!" Tristan looked at me a few times with a frown.
"I can go myself," I whisper, hoping he doesn't hear, but he does.
"See? He can go himself."
"I'll tell Mr. Davis that you're progressing if you take him, okay? He can't walk home by himself. If you don't, I'll tell him that you're not even trying."
"Fine. I'll go."
We walked in silence for about ten minutes, then Tristan spoke more out of boredom, I imagine.
"I keep having this dream about a rainforest and a panther. It's annoying. Think that's weird?"
"I don't know. I guess. Why would it be weird?"
"Cause I keep having it over and over again. Every night. I mean, it's not like it's a nightmare, but it's weird that it doesn't go away."
"I guess that's weird then." I felt like he was testing me, and I was failing with flying colors.
"Never mind."
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You don't like me very much, do you?" I want to look at him, but I know that he won't look back.
"What makes you think that?"
"I don't know. You just act like I annoy you or something." I stop in front of my street. I remember thinking that if he wasn't going to be my friend, there was no reason for him to know where I lived.
"No. I just think that we're different. We weren't born to be friends, you and me. Maybe the dream's about you..." he stopped as if he'd realized something. "We're just different is all. I'm me, and you're you. We're like oil and water. We don't mix."
"You don't even know me. How would you know if you don't even try to talk to me?" I asked. I was on the edge of tears. Something I hadn't done in years: cry.
"I just know," he said. His statement was so final that I couldn't stand it anymore. I just bolted, angry, disappointed, lonely, annoyed. I left him behind and ran as fast as I could. I ran and ran, tears fell down my cheeks, but I never stopped. Passed my house. Passed the dam. Passed everything. I ran until my lungs hurt, until my legs were numb.
I remember that this was the last time I spoke to Tristan. I vowed to ignore him for the rest of my life.
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.
(7/15/01)