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My Life: Chapter 31 - Beginnings

by Fitz

I had the strangest desire to watch an episode of Smurfs. It was a ridiculous concept, considering I was sitting in Chemistry class at the time. My head ached, my hands were trembling, and I thought I might ask the teacher to be excused to the bathroom where I would spend the next five minutes determining whether or not I would throw up. It was one of my bad days.

“Kenshin.”

Hearing the teacher speak my name, I lifted my head enough to look at him. The guy was more of a freak than I was. He was in his forties with long hair in a messy ponytail. His personality left much to be desired--he treated all students who were not in his beloved ‘Honors Chemistry’ class like we were idiots who would never amount to anything. Considering some of us... that was not entirely without merit. That did not mean we deserved it, though. And he was staring at me like he would the bit of gum on the bottom of his shoe.

“Would you tell us what this picture depicts?” he pointed at the overhead screen where a picture was projected. It consisted of translucent blue and white round things... kind of like those Smurfs. My mind was drifting. What was the topic for the day again?

“Um... an atom...” I said cautiously. There was probably more to the damned picture than that, but I did not particularly care. I was failing this quarter already anyway. Why had I even bothered taking the class? It was not as if it was required.

“Very good, Kenshin,” Mr. Stevensen drawled, sounding just the slightest bit sarcastic. “Jim, tell Kenshin what else is in this picture.”

I glanced at the picture again, completely missing whatever Jim said. It was a positively charged atom if the teacher wanted to be that specific. God forbid I simplify it a bit. I looked down at the handout on my desk--it was the same picture. The topic for the day, according to the handout, was ‘Ions.’ Well, there you had it. An atom with a charge. Give the student an A for figuring things out.

I was ready to go home, but it was only second period. That meant I had five left, not to mention lunch. The thought of food made me sick to my stomach. Oh, it was going to be a long day.

“Hey!” someone hissed beside me. It was a girl with plain blue eyes and mousy brown hair. I thought her name was Jenny. She whispered again when she saw me look. “You gonna be okay, Kenshin? You look sick.”

Not happy that she had noticed, I glared at her and clasped my hands in my lap under the desk.

“Do you have something to share with the rest of the class, Jennifer?” the teacher asked. He was especially irritating that morning. Nine o’clock was far too early for such antagonism.

“I was just asking Kenshin if he felt well, Mr. Stevensen,” she replied readily. It was like first grade again with the class tattletale sitting right next to me. The bitch--I bet she never would have been called that by a six-year-old.

“Kenshin?” Stevensen did not look at all worried. He wouldn’t. He knew me too well to think for an instant any of this might actually be real.

I hunched down in my chair, gripping my arms with the opposite hands and trying to hug away the chill that had settled deep within me. Only time and patience would make that disappear. There were other methods, actually, but none I dared turn to.

“Stop disrupting my class,” Stevensen stated, addressing both Jenny and me. It figured. I had not done anything wrong, and I still got rebuked. Just because I had missed two solid weeks out of his class, not to mention the times I skipped during the fall...

The day continued as normal. No, that was not exactly true. Normal was entirely relative these days. My routine was normal. I got up in the morning, got dressed, choked down whatever breakfast Uncle Hiko had set out for me that day, brushed my teeth and hair, and caught the bus to school. At school, I floated through class--either learning something or not, depending on the day--went to lunch where I rarely ate anything, then more class, and then back to the bus for the trip home. At home, I sat down and attempted my homework, watched some television, had dinner, and went to bed. It was a routine from which Uncle Hiko refused to allow me to deviate. Any alteration of the routine required permission far in advance and usually came along with a shit-load of rules.

The bus was probably the worst time of the day. Since the school consisted of both the high school and middle school--sixth through twelfth grades--I had to endure nearly twenty minutes of sitting with kids ranging from ages twelve to eighteen. There were more younger kids. Eleventh and twelfth graders were allowed to drive their own cars to school and a lot of them took full advantage of that privilege. Then, there were those who had their license privileges revoked until we turned eighteen--twenty-one for those of us with a temperamental uncle.

The younger kids were full of mocking words and taunts, although not all of it was aimed toward me. The older they got, in general, the more smooth they were with their insults. It pissed me off when some of those people turned their eyes away from their current conquest and toward me. As if they thought they could intimidate me. Despite my size and bearing, I was not some weak-willed child. They usually ended up eating their words.

After lunch that day, I got a pass from the counselors’ office. Mr. Johnson was my official guidance counselor, and I sat in his office, listening to him talk. I could not have cared less about what he thought.

“Mr. Stevensen was concerned that you might be having some difficulties again, Kenshin,” Mr. Johnson told me after we went through the whole ‘how are you? how are classes going?’ spiel. He watched me, his eyes not staying on my face. I clasped my hands and held them clenched between my knees before he could notice how they shook. Mr. Johnson stared at my hands for a few seconds before looking back to my face. “Do you have anything you would like to discuss?”

“No, sir,” I mumbled. The answer was one he must have been expecting. It was the same response I always gave. Is there a problem, Kenshin? No, sir. Do you want to talk about it, Kenshin? No, sir. Would you like a poke in the eye with a sharp stick, Kenshin? No, sir. Yes, the guy had once asked me that. He was an irritating son of a bitch, and of course he was my guidance counselor for the entirety of my years in high school.

Mr. Johnson sighed, as if exhausted by the effort it took to be in my presence. I kept my head down, my eyes trained on a piece of gum that had long ago been ground into the carpet.

“It’s been two weeks, Kenshin,” Mr. Johnson continued, “since you returned to school. How are your studies?”

“Okay.” I was passing at least half of my classes. Not bad, considering my two-week absence. I would be taking several incompletes.

“Life at home?”

I offered that stain on the floor a withering glare. Like that was any of his business. Mr. Johnson knew that, and he could not pry without the possibility of being accused of harassment. Not that I would try. Who would care? Nobody that mattered, that much was certain.

“I’ll come right to the point, Kenshin,” he said finally. “I would appreciate an honest answer, although I’m sure you’ll just tell me whatever you think I want to hear.” Bastard. “Have you been smoking again?”

Smoking. Is that what he called it? Smokes were the least of it. They could cause lung cancer and however many other diseases, but they did not make a person think he could fly. They did not draw a person to lechery. No, a plain cigarette could do none of that.

I glanced at him, seeing his shrewd stare, before looking back down at the carpet.

“No, sir.”

He sighed.

“Would you tell me if you were?” he asked quietly. The honest answer to that? What could it hurt?

“No, sir.” I was not dumb enough to do that. I had been through rehab once and had no desire to do it again. Of course, the easiest way to accomplish that was never to give anyone reason to shove me into that godforsaken clinic. That was exactly what I intended to do, no matter how difficult it seemed. Although, there were days--like that day--I wished someone would put me out of my misery. A merciful person would have taken one look at me and, at the very least, knocked me out.

“I just want to help you, Kenshin,” Mr. Johnson said, sounding as if I was placing the weight of the world on his shoulders. “You seem to be having so much trouble...”

Oh, get off it, I thought rather unfairly. He was on his high horse again, thinking he could fix everything with his concern. I had made a mistake. I knew that. Everyone knew that. What I was just beginning to understand was that it would take a long time before my life would be even remotely normal. For some reason, Mr. Johnson and everyone else did not see this. They thought I was clean again, therefore I was ready to face society as easily as any other kid. They were wrong. Only Uncle Hiko ever seemed to know that.

“I’m trying, Mr. Johnson,” I said finally. It came out sounding like an irritated growl. I was trying. Sometimes I drifted, sometimes I was as clear as the winter sky on a frozen sunny day. Today was a cloudy day. If he would just get that and let me trudge through it--

“That’s not what some of your teachers say, Kenshin.”

Idiot. I hated him. I glowered at the carpet, silent and willing him to realize that he was not helping me by taking me out of class.

A few minutes later, Mr. Johnson finally did get it. He reluctantly handed me a pass and told me to return to English. I stood and left the office.

^_^

The school year ended, and I was officially a senior. Granted, I had to work hard and take a few classes over in order to graduate. I was not really up for the challenge, but I did it anyway. I was hardly a straight-A student, but I did get several B’s and C’s and even a couple A’s. Not a single D my senior year, and I did not fail anything.

That much, at least, was good. Even so, it was a depressing year. While I had come a long way from the person I had been for nearly two years early on in high school, my reputation was such that people avoided me. My list of friends was nonexistent. I moved through the months, alone and refusing to admit I did not like it. After awhile I got used to it. I was numbed to the stares and whispered comments. It was a little irritating at times, but the pain of it disappeared. I had more important things to worry about than the views of a bunch of high school students.

Like one fall afternoon while I sat in the counselor’s office... again. Senior year had seen me in that office less frequently than the previous year, but I still found myself there far more often than the average student.

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do when you graduate, Kenshin?” Mr. Johnson asked, startling me with the question. Truth be told, I had not. The present--getting through each day--had been my focus as of late.

“No, sir. Not really,” I muttered. Mr. Johnson’s brow jumped a little. I thought it was caused by how I addressed him more than the answer itself. He had a thing against titles. His favorite students just called him ‘Johnson’ and even by his first name--which I did not know. The ‘sir’ bugged him, but I was not about to change my habits for his comfort. I could handle calling him Mr. Johnson every now and then, but the ‘sir’ just came naturally to me. I had used it since I was little. It was one of those things pounded into me by my overbearing uncle.

“What do you think you want to do?” he challenged.

I had no idea. Get a job, maybe? Get away from this little town, that much was certain.

“I don’t know, sir.”

“Well, let’s take a look at some things here,” he pulled out my file. It was pretty thick, and I was willing to bet most of that was not my best accomplishments. He pulled out a piece of paper and studied it with a little smirk. “You did very well on your ACT. Did you know that?”

“No, sir.” Honestly, I had not paid much attention to it. Uncle Hiko had smirked and patted me on the back when we got the results in the mail, but other than that...

“A thirty-two,” he murmured. “If I did not know better, I’d say you cheated.”

“I didn’t cheat!” I was offended that he would even suggest such a thing. Sure, I did some miserable, illegal things, but I would sooner fail than cheat.

“I know that,” he grinned at me. “So either you’ve got some brains in there that you’re trying to hide, or you’re very good at guessing.”

Maybe a little of both. Asshole. Mr. Johnson continued to smile at me.

“With these scores, you may be able to get into a decent college despite your record,” he told me.

That had not occurred to me. College? I had assumed no one would want me in their school. But... Mr. Johnson looked so pleased... and he wasn’t even insulting me. I lifted my head a bit, looking at him warily.

“You think that’s possible?” I asked cautiously.

“You never know until you give it a shot,” he picked up his phone and pushed a couple numbers, putting the phone to his ear. “Janis? Do we have any extra applications for the state colleges around?... Great! Could you bring them in?”

He hung up and offered me a triumphant look. I was a bit confused. Applications? But it was so soon. No one applied for college this early, did they? It was yet early December.

“You’ve improved quite a bit in the past year, Kenshin,” Mr. Johnson stated bluntly. “And I think that with a nice letter of recommendation, you could get into Minnesota State U or the U of M. What do you think? Does that appeal to you?”

No one got anywhere these days without some sort of college degree. It would be awfully nice... And if Mr. Johnson was so confident that I could do it, then why shouldn’t I try?

“You really think I could get in?” I took the application he was holding out. The secretary had just handed them to Mr. Johnson, while I was lost in thought. I gazed down at the papers uncertainly. “Who would give me a letter of recommendation?”

“Do you have any teachers whose classes you have done well in?” he countered.

“My English class...” I blinked at the papers, then looked up at the man. “If I tried... You think maybe I could go to the University?”

Mr. Johnson smirked.

“You have no idea how much it pleases me to hear you talk like this, Kenshin,” he confided. “Why don’t you go talk to a couple of teachers about those letters, and I’ll see what I can do about getting your transcripts released?”

“Really?” It sounded too good to be true. But Mr. Johnson just continued to smile.

“Come see me tomorrow before school,” he ordered. “Seven-fifteen. Can you get here by then?”

“I’ll try to get a ride,” I murmured, looking back to the application in my hand. The bus would get me to school by seven-fifteen at the earliest. I was just grateful that it got me there early enough so that I could go to my locker and then to class with a minute to spare.

“If not, I’ll send a pass to your study hall,” he assured me. “Now, go on. I’ll see you tomorrow. Fill that out tonight.”

“Sure...” I stood, a bit giddy at the prospects of actually doing something with my life. A year ago, it had not seemed possible. But with that application in my hand... I had not hoped so much for something like this in a very long time. And to think it would be a couple months before I would find out.

^_^

A winter walk

Bleached blonde hair... spectacles intended for reading disguised as hippie glasses... a knowing smile. Enishi is always like this. But now... I don’t want his false cheer. I don’t want any cheer. I just want to sit here, alone with my grief. The funeral was the day before yesterday, so I had the right to be miserable... right?

But Uncle Hiko let him in. He thinks it’s a good idea for me to get out, even if it is Enishi. He doesn’t know what a rotten person Enishi is yet. He’s friendly enough, but he’s different. He’s as false as that smile of his. Completely, totally... I don’t know how, but he is.

We walk through a haze. I think it’s the park. There’s no one else around, but that’s okay. Whenever I’m with Enishi, people stare at him... and me. Mostly him.

It’s cold out, and the air makes my nose run. It’s snowing again. The white is gathering in my hair. The hair, which I haven’t cut yet. It flops down in my eyes, and I use it so I don’t have to look at Enishi. I sniff, trying to clear my nose. I hate the winter. I hate everything about it.

“You gonna cry?” Enishi asks.

I’m not going to cry. I cried less than a week ago. It’s Friday. Did she only die last Sunday? It seems so distant... a lifetime. The pain is still there, but it’s hard to find. It’s hidden down deep in a sea of pain medication and shock.

Enishi has his arm around my shoulders--very carefully, of course, as my shoulder is still recovering from having been knocked out of alignment several days earlier. I ignore him. If I pretend he’s not there, maybe he’ll just go away. Then, I’d have to find my way back home without him, but is it really so bad to be left alone in this cold? I will probably wander until I am so hopelessly lost that there is nothing left to do but sit and let the cold have me. Is that much worse than being out here with Enishi? Really? I don’t think so.

“The snow is too thick to see through,” Enishi announced casually. “Let’s stick to the park. You never know if someone might not see us on the road.”

The words cut into me as sure as if he had used a knife. I don’t know if he meant it to be so cruel. With Enishi, I never knew.

“It’s freezing out here!” Enishi announces, shuddering for effect. I wince once before the pain fades again. Whatever the doctors gave me is pretty strong stuff. Enishi’s unexpected movement had barely penetrated. I am almost grateful it had, though. Physical pain is a distraction, and I want to be distracted. Odd, that. I never considered myself to be the masochistic sort. Am I strange for that?

“Hey, kid,” Enishi is talking again. Won’t he leave? “What do you want?”

I want you to go away. I want...

He stops and turns, his hands on my shoulders stopping me as well. I look into his dark eyes and wonder what secrets he’s hiding behind that stupid smirk. But the smirk is gone right now...

“You’ve got to talk, kid,” he tells me. I think this is the most solemn he’s ever been. How strange that he does it out of concern for me. How very unlikely. “Tell me what you want.”

He won’t take silence for an answer. Uncle Hiko is like that, too. Ironic. And really, there is but one answer to his question.

“I want my sister back.”

“That ain’t gonna happen, kid.”

“Then don’t ask.” Jerk. I hate him sometimes, even though he’s a relative... sort of. He’s scary. But no one else seems to notice. I wonder why not.

There’s something between us--something that looks suspiciously illegal. But Enishi doesn’t seem worried. He’s still not smirking. He just holds up that little white thing, as if he wants me to take it.

“It’ll make you feel better,” he explains finally.

“Says who?” I demand, but I can’t take my eyes off it. I know those things are outlawed for a reason, but don’t people use it for their health, too? So it can’t be that bad, can it?

“Have I ever lied to you, kid?” Probably. But possibly not. Again, it is hard to tell with Enishi. “It’ll help.”

I stare at the joint, knowing better. I know better. But if it’ll make it go away... I will try anything.

My hand moves on its own, against my wishes. I have the thing in my fingers, and it’s lit, and I put it to my lips...

^_^

I was such an idiot. Marijuana was relatively harmless in and of itself.* What was dangerous about the damned drug was that it had this nasty tendency to lead into stronger things--cocaine, heroin, ecstasy and countless others.

I was a fool for believing Enishi. It did not help. It made things worse. And only the first few had been free... after that, he began demanding payment, saying he could not afford to just give his stuff away. Like an unemployed, fifteen-year-old boy could come up with that kind of money. So I learned how to get it without anyone else knowing. Picking pockets was a simple enough thing, but it was mostly small change--certainly never more than a couple hundred bucks. It was barely enough. Until later, when it wasn’t. And I racked up a debt. I still have not paid that off...

^_^

*Not really harmless. Ever seen those commercials about people driving under the influence of marijuana? Yeah… but as far as the drug causing direct, permanent damage, I don’t believe it’s overly bad in comparison to most others. Please correct me if I’m wrong.

^_^

The beginning...

Shouting... so much shouting. It wasn’t me this time. I couldn’t shout. I couldn’t scream. I was crying too hard to do either.

The bed shifted, and I jumped, but it was only me, rocking back and forth on the tangled comforter. The other guy was still in here. I wanted to leave, wanted to run screaming into the night, but I just sat on the bed, rocking, hugging myself, and sobbing.

The room smelled. It smelled like smoke, overpowering and depressing. It smelled like booze--something strong. Someone had thrown up in here not too terribly long ago. The odor was rancid. The bed... where I sat... smelled like blood, sweat, and sex. It made me ill to my stomach, and I held a hand over my mouth and nose in desperate attempt to escape it.

There was no escape from it. The shouting grew louder, and that guy--did he just move?--was still on the ground nearby. His head was bloody... bloody just like she had been. But this time it was my fault. It was my doing, my mistake. But he tried to hurt me, and I didn’t want to do what he wanted to do, and I knocked over that lamp and had to grab it...

The room seemed brighter, the shouting louder. I huddled against my legs, folded up in front of me, the hand not over my mouth moving on its own to protect my head. I couldn’t stop crying. It was too much--too much happening, too much... whatever in my system, too much. I couldn’t... couldn’t...

“Calm down honey...” some lady was talking to me, touching me. I jumped at the hands on my arms, scrambling back, away from the contact, telling the person not to touch me, don’t touch me, I don’t want to do that, don’t...

“Is that a boy?” People talking. I didn’t know what they wanted. Just as long as they stayed away from me, I could huddle back against the headboard, safe from that guy--where was he?!

“I thought... my god! Is he okay?”

“He looks okay... scared.”

That lady touched me again, my head, her hand in my hair. I shook my head, trying to get away, telling her I didn’t want it, stay away from me.

“Terrified,” she said.

“Take him to a squad car,” one of the men said.

“We’ll check the rest of the house.”

“Come on, kid,” the lady pulled on my arms again, and I jerked back. She was strong for a woman. I couldn’t get out of her grip. “I’m not going to hurt you. We’re going to get you out of here. Come on...”

The thought of leaving made me pause, and she pulled me forward. I faltered and stumbled as I fell off the bed. She kept me on my feet, and I tried to pull away again. Hands on my arms... forcing me around...

“Stop...” I didn’t know who said that--her or me. I couldn’t see anything. The blackness was familiar, and I wanted it. I wanted it to take me. Forever.

The world disappeared.

^_^

Another beginning...

My graduation party was a small, informal thing. Only family members came because I did not invite anyone from school. There seemed to be little point in doing that anyway. So, Aunt Tokio came over, along with some relatives I did not remember having. Enishi couldn’t come--something about a sports club. Right. If passing Speed could be considered sports. One long game of football where instead of a pigskin, they passed around illegal drugs.

Uncle Hiko provided the drinks. It was not too difficult to place out a few bottles of beer, some cans of pop, and juice boxes. Aunt Tokio had always been a great cook, so she made a chicken dinner.

It was uncomfortable, the whole ordeal, and it lasted maybe two hours before almost everybody left. My family never was very close--just Aunt Tokio because she was Dad’s sister. She took care of us after Dad died, but at the time her situation was not great, and Uncle Hiko got legal custody. Maybe things would have been better with her taking care of us, but I would never know, and there was little use in brooding over it.

Later, Aunt Tokio announced the family’s present to me--a trip to London that summer. It was a surprise, but I took it like I took everything. That is to say, I nodded and offered a less-than-sincere sounding thank you. I liked it, to be sure, but it was difficult to put much emotion in my voice. I had not done that for quite some time, and to up and smile happily was not going to happen.

Uncle Hiko gave me a card. It looked like he had run to Hallmark at the last minute, picked up the first ‘congratulations, high school graduate’ card he had seen, signed his name at the bottom, and was done. Nice enough, but not particularly funny nor filled with much sentimentalism. I probably threw it away after a couple days, but I might have lost it somewhere. Uncle Hiko might have thrown it out with the rest of the trash left on the tables.

Finally, the party ended, and everything continued like normal. Over the summer, I picked up some odd jobs, here and there, spent a lot of time running or just lounging in my room or downstairs. Of course, late July, early August, Aunt Tokio took me to London for two weeks. That was an interesting experience, but I was grateful to return home at the end.

Then, it was time to hurry and get ready for college. I got the necessary essentials for my dorm room and packed my belongings. Uncle Hiko made me go to an ‘orientation weekend’ which I could have done without. They made everyone play games, do crafts, talk in groups, and even perform little skits at the end. The more outgoing students in my group made me their ‘project,’ which I did not appreciate one bit. They made it their goal to get me to talk more. I was not up for that challenge, considering the headache I got every time we had to walk by the coffee can where the smokers gathered. I so wanted to join them... but someone would grab my arm and drag me off somewhere else. Yay.

Finally... I went to college, where I met my first roommate.

^_^