One was done in screenplay format or I should say our version of screenplay format. One was done. We did enter that contest and we didn’t win. We did though; think that it’d be a good idea to write the rest of the story in that format. It was the reason I was going to stay home for a bit and finish. My wife went and got a job with a buddy of mine at a collection company. It wasn’t what I wanted but it was going to be short term. I’m so stupid and I know better. I do. Why? What the hec was I thinking?
Michael was over at the house and we were talking about the story and that’s when we had the conversation that was supposed to be just an idea, a thought for a second. The conversation with Michael, the one where he came up with the idea, was good. I ran it past my wife and she agreed.
Michael, Tammy, and their daughter were going to move in with us. They weren’t sure if they wanted to stay in their apartment or buy a house so they would stay for a bit until they decided. Then a few months later another buddy of ours, Perry moved in. Perry is the guy that had lit Sally’s cigarette years ago when I acted like a shit. He’s a great guy.
I remember the first time we met Perry. We were young and we made him run around the tennis court while we tried to hit him with tennis balls. We told him that we had all done it, but we hadn’t. We hit him so many times but he kept going. He made it all the way around. It looked like fun so we all did it, and it was fun. It became a new game in the neighborhood and we played all the time.
I don’t need distractions right now. I won’t have them. I remember. Our plan was good, there would be four paychecks and financially we’d be set. We’d save money and we’d get the story completed. I’d take another month and I’d write all six. All six in one month, that was the plan.
It started ok. Michael and his family moved in, and a few months later Perry was going to move in. Perry was in Denver, he’d spent the last six years in the Air Force and he was moving back home. He was all on board with our project. We were going to write the greatest epic that had ever been told.
One was done and it took less than forty-eight hours. I went straight into Two and there was no slowing me. I was up all hours and I spent them in the basement. I was seeing it and I was feeling it. Two begins where One ends, right away and it keeps pace. We knew before we began what Two was going to be, so it was easy. For a day and a half scenes were created. Where they came from didn’t matter.
I remember one time I was in the kitchen. It was about nine P.M. and they were watching TV. I was upstairs, only for coffee, but it never fails, someone always has to say or ask something innocently trying to steal my thoughts from me.
The lights flash and I’m pulled from my memory. My vision clears and I have complete focus. I yell but no one replies so I stand and walk to the bottom of the stairs. I stare up and see no one. I yell again but nobody replies. I run upstairs and from the kitchen I can see my wife sleeping on the couch in the living room. I see the two dogs on the floor. I know the lights flashed. It’s why I’m here. I took a deep and to be safe I walk the house and check the children, all is well so I go downstairs and continue to the basement. I don’t understand. Every time I think I’m there, I’m focused I lose it. I see it then it’s gone. Why?
Stop! Stop! This is dumb! You’re dumb and you’re still that geek. You stupid dumb geek! Hide from it you can’t! You can’t! I can’t!
I wake two hours later. I’m sitting in my chair with my head on the desk. My head is heavy and my memory is unclear. I see the last words I typed and laugh. I leave them cause, why not?
It doesn’t matter. My focus is gone and what I need to do will be hard now. I pour more coffee from my mug into the smaller glass then I drink it in one motion. I pour another and another until the mug is empty, I know what that means.
Sometimes I wonder. I ask myself why it is that I have all the potential and no will to execute my potential. Is it mine, me? Am I the only one? I consistently position my self to almost be, or to always have reason for failure, and I think I know why. Why? Three letters that form one word that equals one question. That simple word has an incalculable number of potentials.
That’s what we did though. We finished the six screenplays and then we decided to rewrite them in story form. We all know that T.B.O.T.E. will make amazing movies but Michael and I would love to find a way to publish them as books first. My memory is unclear about the order of events. I was distracted during that time period so, it’s unclear. I do remember everyone’s reaction to our decision. They said that we’d never make it, that there would be too many personalities in one house. It was and still is hard. We started four years ago and from then to now, it has been interesting and ever changing as well as challenging.
Michael’s girl left him at the beginning. It wasn’t Tammy or Michael’s, fault. They just weren’t meant to be together. They were two good people who didn’t make a good couple. Neither motivated the other to be better in the relationship. There was no motivation because they weren’t meant to be. It’s sad but it happens.
I can’t do this and I don’t why. I don’t. I shouldn’t do it or should. I talk out loud in the basement, to no one, and no one responds. I don’t care. It’s stupid, I’m stupid and my thoughts are mentally challenging. I can’t.
I can, and I will. I can and I will. That’s it. That’s all there is to it. I will. Nothing can stop me, not even me. I’m not going to be scared, I’m not afraid, but I am. Why? I know what’s real and what’s not. I do, and my focus is mine. No one is going to steal it. No one is going to humiliate me. Not even me. Not my past, not my present and not my future. There are too many reasons to be strong. I have a beautiful wife who I love, and who motivated me to better myself, to not be the idiot from the past. She makes me brave, makes me not afraid to believe in myself. There is no reason for fear. It’s like they say, nothing to fear but fear itself. I believe that I’m learning that right now. If I remember what I learn, time will tell.
I remember. It’s a memory from Kentucky. I was fourteen, and it’s the first time I was ever bullied by someone besides my older brother.
I was with my younger brother Joey, and my friend Brian, the boy I eventually name my first-born son after, different spelling, Bryan, but that’s an argument I lost with my ex.
Anyways, the three of us had gone to the movies with my father. My Dad and Mom had been separated and we were about to move or something like that. I just remember that our movie was over before my Dad’s was. We were standing outside the small theater and we were talking. There were, a few people standing several feet behind us and we didn’t have any other thoughts than what we were talking about when it happened.
Blackness fills my vision and I hear loud roars. I’m unable to stay with the memory and as the roars fade my vision returns. I turn around and behind me on an old chair is one of my dogs, he’s whining. I tell him let’s go and take him to the stairs. I walk up and open the door, letting my dog out. I yell, from behind the door, to my wife who I’m guessing is in the living room. I say “He was whining.”, and then I shut the door. I don’t have to worry about it. She knows what I mean. I walk back down and sit in my chair. I spin around and face the computer. I know what I have to do. I need focus and I have it.
I take a deep breath, releasing slowly as I shut my eyes. My thoughts need to be empty and clear. I see the blackness, what I call the black void. I know that’s where I’m at, the void. I feel it. I hear the wind but no whispers. No direction.
The blackness fades and I’m sitting in my chair. I take a deep breath and try to understand why I lost focus. Then a form fades into vision right beside me. It is the blue-black outline of the being I’d seen before. There is a loud roar and before I can move I feel a massive hand grab me by the neck. I yell out as it slams me backwards, knocking my chair to the side while I slam back first into the couch.
My head jolts upon the impact but I keep my focus and stare forward at the being attacking me. I don’t know what to do.
My vision
fades to blackness as the being nears me. There is a roar and then awareness returns. I’m sitting in my chair, my head jerking up but then I shake it. I yell as I shake my head. My thoughts are what I need and I need them now. Fear can have many sources. My fear does anyway.
I remember. Brian, Joey, and I were standing outside the theater when a car full of older teens drives by. I remember that we didn’t see them at first, but we all saw them when they turned around, speeding to a stop directly in front of us. We stood there, not knowing what to do as these six guys at least eighteen or nineteen years old got out of the car.
Blackness returns and I lose the memory. I wake in the chair typing. I see the words Stop! Stop! Stop! So I do. I take a drink of my coffee to realize that my giant coffee cup is empty. I stand and walk upstairs. The first thing I see is one of the dogs standing by the back door. She didn’t let him out yet. That surprised me. Then I see our other dog outside, on the leash. I look to the coffee pot, none ready. I know that’s not good. That means there will be time for distractions. I wasn’t going to let that happen. I was behind as it was so I couldn’t afford it, but I needed coffee. I begin making a new pot and try not to talk to anyone.
I know any conversation will create a path of potential distraction and I wasn’t going to do it. I had to stay focused, and when my wife talked, her voice was muffled and the words were unclear. I think she said something about the kids and one of them being up. There is pain, pain that knocks me over, not to my knees, but I bend. I don’t reach for the floor though I want to. My wife is standing behind me.
“You ok?”
I don’t tell her that I feel like I’ve been slammed backwards into the couch downstairs. I just tell her my back hurts, and I stand immediately. I walk away from her so she can’t see the pain on my face. I open the door and let one dog in and then I let the other out. That was all the time I needed. My control was mine. My thoughts were clear. I turn to my wife and give her a kiss on the forehead then I give her a hug. I didn’t want to leave her but I did. I sit here in my chair staring at the screen in front of me. I remember where I was and that’s where I travel.
I was fourteen years old and my life was about to change. I was moving and this night had value. I didn’t want to leave Brian. He was my friend, my brother. He is family. Then there was my younger brother Joey, he’s like ten years old or something. A few seconds ago the three of us were minding our own business, laughing and talking silly, but now. Right now there were six guys that had to be my older brother’s age and he was eighteen. This was not going to be good.
There was one tall skinny guy who steps out in front of his friends. He was their mouth, their vocal leader. He walks straight up to Brian, who’s the tallest of us, and this guy starts yelling, calling Brian names. I didn’t know what to do and when I turned to the guy he saw me. I froze as he walked over and stood in my face yelling. I was scared and this guy was huge.
“Boy! What were you looking at? Why do you think you can look at me? We were just driving by and y’all were staring at us.”
“We didn’t even see you,” is all I got out before he slapped me across the face. It was hard and it jerked my head to the side.
Brian stepped up but then the biggest of the six stepped to him and yelled.
“You think you can move?”
Brian didn’t move and I’m not sure what Joey was thinking, he was only ten. I wiped my head back and stared up into this guy’s eyes. I didn’t do anything. I stood there with my fists clinched and I wanted to hit him but I didn’t.
He saw my fists and he saw the look on my face. He knew what he was doing and he knew he could. He smacked me again, jerking my head to the side and yelled.
“You think you can look at me? You gonna hit me with those? You think you can hit me? Hit me! Hit me!”
He smacks me across the face again and then finally, one of the adults that had been watching interrupts. The six guys are quick to get into their car. The entire time the smacker is yelling at me.
“I better never see you again! If you see me you better run!”
I never saw him again and that night I never forgot. It’s not a memory I travel to often, but I remember it. That night was the first time I was afraid to punch back but it wasn’t the last. Brian, Joey, and I have joked about that night many times since and it always makes me smile. I would like to meet those guys again though, if only to say hi.
It wasn’t long after that night that we were moving. I remember that day, or a part of it anyways.
We were done packing. We had an old station wagon and it held everything we had. We were leaving to Indiana to live with my aunt, until my Mom could get a job. I was standing in our front yard, talking to Brian. I didn’t want to go but I wasn’t complaining. Mom always said cry in private, at least I think she did, and that’s how I’ve tried to live, though I wasn’t always successful, like on this day.
I gave Brian a hug and walked to the car. This was my friend, my brother I was leaving. How could I do that? I know I was young and it was not in my control, but still it was hard. It was worse than leaving my older brother, Johnny, who was staying in Kentucky with my Dad. Johnny had high school issues and my father was the one who needed to take care of them. Brian though, that was different.
I remember Brian getting in the car with us and we drive to the end of the street. We said goodbye again, and I yelled bye out the side window. I saw him running, running as fast as he could to keep up. I waved out the back window. I watched him running, waving, until we were far away and I couldn’t see him anymore.
My vision blurs then returns. I’m sitting in my chair. I stare at the last paragraph and instantly I experience the memory and again I laugh. It’s funny to me now I guess. The last few months in Kentucky went by fast, and like I said, the night that guy slapped me three times in front of the theater, wasn’t going to be the last time I’d be afraid to throw my fists.
We moved to Indiana and lived with my aunt. She’s an amazing woman but it was like living with two of my Mom, a short Sicilian woman who moved as fast as she talked, and thought I was always wrong. I probably was but I was a scared teen and school life there was rough.
It’s an interesting little town though. It’s on the border of Ohio and Kentucky near the Ohio River. In that town there are some of the most beautiful woman but as beautiful as the women are the men are mean and if you ask me, ugly. Maybe I only say that because they used to bully me. For most of them that’s all they did. There was one though; it wasn’t cool because he was also the closest thing I had to a new friend there.
His name was Timmy Bean. It was weird, sometimes I thought he was my friend and other times he was mean. That school was mean. They used to call me light bulb. It’s because of my blond curly hair. At the time my curly hair erupted straight up, giving wonderful visibility to my giant forehead oh yeah and highlighting my nose that was still way too big for my face. It was a big target, and one that a certain type of kid cannot ignore. They would smack my forehead every time they walk by.
“Hey light bulb,” Bam, across the forehead they’d smack me, and it made them laugh. It never hurt physically but mentally it was not right. It was funny because even certain teachers called me light bulb. My gym teacher did.
I remember one time during dodge ball there was only one other guy and me left on our team. There were nine of them and they all had balls. I hear my teammate yell as three of the kids strike him simultaneously. I remember moving, bending, jumping, and dodging a non-stop attack of balls until I caught one, eliminating the thrower.
“Look at light bulb move!” the gym teacher yelled. “Go light bulb!” That’s what he yelled the entire time until there was only me left.
“Light bulb you sure can move.”
I didn’t care. Dodge ball was fun and they never hit me, so I didn’t care. The teacher wasn’t trying to be mean; he just thought it was funny. I didn’t think it was funny but his error was innocent. Timmy Bean was innocen
t but he could be mean. I wanted to like him, and I wanted him to like me. If he did like me I don’t know, but I do remember.
I’m standing in the basement, that’s where my room was. My brother is behind me on the bed. I’m not sure he’s noticing what’s happening. Timmy Bean was there and just moments before we had all been on the bed playing cards. I think I won, I’m not sure but something I did or said made Timmy mad.
We were about fifteen feet away from the bed close to the bottom of the stairs. He was standing in front of me and Joey was on the bed. Timmy was yelling at me but it was the quiet yell that doesn’t travel or require loud volume.
Timmy Bean was in my basement, he was yelling at me in front of my little brother. I’m sure Joey saw it but we never talked about this memory. I stepped up to Timmy. I looked up into his eyes and said “Not in my basement.”
He smacks me across my face and yells something stupid. I jerk my head back and I yell something in anger, but I don’t punch him. I couldn’t, I was afraid. After a few yells he left, and we never hung out again. He tried but I couldn’t do it. It wasn’t long after that we moved to Ohio. I never saw Timmy again, I did hear that he was arrested for stabbing someone on the bus but don’t know if that’s true.
In Ohio, things were different. I was still a geek but it wasn’t as bad as the other school. My hair was cut so there was a different type of name-calling but most of the time it wasn’t so bad. There were a few fights that were totally unnecessary.
I remember one in the hall at the Junior High school. The junior high was the eighth and ninth grade level. I was in the hallway, walking back to gym class. I had a badminton racket in my hand. I wasn’t paying attention as I walked and of course I bumped into the guy that had been picking on me the last couple weeks. He’s the king hood of our class, or at least one of them.
He pushed me back into a locker and started yelling at me. I stepped forward to pass him and he pushed me back into the locker. That was it. I was done. My anger exploded and I pushed him backwards away from me. In my rage I yell words that don’t form and I slam my racket into the locker. He steps and stares at me with shock on his face. I started yelling, “Come on! Come on! Come on!”
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