Learning to Cry

by Christopher C. Payne

  It is one thing to brush off snow and remove ice on the outside of your windows but when you are scraping the stuff off on the inside, you should wonder about the viability of your vehicle. It didn’t even melt as it hit the floor. It just fell in mounds of beautiful white clumps on the floorboard below. I scraped enough to give me a viewing window, cranked up the car, and we headed on our way.

  With three guys breathing heavily and no heat keeping us warm, the glass quickly iced over again. I was very shortly rolling down the window and hanging my head outside to see as I drove. It was dangerous in retrospect, and the fact that I was drinking at the time made matters worse. The stupidity of teenagers astounds me in my aging years. I literally was driving with my elbow on the door, a beer in my left hand, my head hanging out the window, and my right hand on the wheel. Should I have been shocked at the possibility of getting in a wreck?

  As I tooled down the road doing around 45 miles per hour in a 30 miles per hour zone, I jumped over a low spot in the asphalt and flew straight through a red light. I didn’t realize it until my buddy said, “Dude, you just ran a red light.” It’s a wonder that we didn’t die that evening. All it would have taken was another car crossing the road at the wrong time, and there would have been little teenage body parts sprayed everywhere. Sadly, it didn’t even faze me.

  The only time I remember even being slightly unnerved was one Saturday afternoon when the same guys and I headed to the lake. It was a warm sunny day, and we’d smoked pot all morning. We were so stoned we could barely keep our eyes open. Good thing you don’t need them to drive, I guess. With the sun’s glare off the hood hitting me in my blood-shot corneas, my eyes were mere slits, as thin as a razor. They remained this way as we glided over the back country roads.

  It was the kind of road that was most likely gravel a couple of years before, and the new age of asphalt had finally found its way to the sticks, paving it smooth. Trees lined each side, and there was a lone house sporadically placed here and there, sitting all by its lonesome with the only neighbors several miles away. I flew over the hills, trying to get that feeling in your stomach when you hit one just right. You know that butterfly effect when your stomach turns over slightly as you lift off the ground and quickly plummet back to pavement. It only happens on just the right hills, and you have to be going pretty damn fast.

  So we zoomed along, and I reached the crest of one hill and hit the gas. My hood stuck out, seemingly a few hundred feet so it took a few minutes after I crested the hill to see the road again. As I came down over the top I saw a little boy squatting right in the middle of the road, grabbing his multi colored ball. It was one of those little rubber balls used for kicking and playing with friends on a beautiful sunny afternoon. Jesus, you see this in the movies, but it just doesn’t happen in real life, right? An animal maybe or even a guy crossing the road, but a little kid getting a ball… It was too cliché to happen in real life. Sadly, for me, it did. Maybe sadly is not appropriate but anyway, it happened.

  I swerved the car out of the road, yanked the wheel too hard trying to correct the adjustment, and watched my hood as we vaulted back over the pavement to the other side. I managed to release my foot from the gas so at least we began coasting. I, then, went back the other direction, ended up on the road again and zig-zagged back and forth until we stopped. My friends laughed the entire time.

  I opened my car door and threw up. My hands shook. Damn, my entire body shook. I felt like I might pass out. I looked behind me and was amazed at the distance I had travelled. The boy looked like a speck so far back on the horizon with his ball in his hands. He walked back to his house, and nobody was the wiser to what almost occurred.

  I had several circumstances in my childhood where I was lucky. This was one of the most blatant. The multitude of possible variables that day overwhelms me even now. I could have killed the child in the street, wrecked the car and hurt myself, or one or both of my friends. All of the above and more so. Someone could’ve been injured. They could’ve lost a limb. The child could’ve forever been in a wheel chair with brain damage etc. How stupid are we as teenagers?

  After I had gathered my senses, we started the car back up and went to the lake. Granted I drove slower, but that was the only real change. It wasn’t like I had learned a lesson, or changed my ways. I just adapted to my situation, altering my behavior to the minimum extent possible. You can kill just as many people driving while impaired going 40 miles an hour as you can going 70. The point is not driving at all. Jesus, the irony is almost more than I can take. Maybe you only think you mature as you age. Maybe the reality is your destiny is always set ahead of time. You just meander through life until you meet your defining moment of inevitable failure.

  Melissa

  Melissa had now been driving for a couple of months. She had a few close calls, but for the most part, she’d fought her way through the learning process with very few scars. She drove her sisters back and forth to school and picked them up from activities. She drove over the rolling hills to the movie theater, and as long as she was home by 10 p.m., her mother let her off on her own. Granted this was all at her mother’s house. Her father’s house was a completely different story.

  He didn’t let her younger sisters in the car with her. She drove during the day only when it was light outside, and she was not allowed to have any of her friends in the car. This was all asinine, and she, of course, did not listen. But still, it was insulting.

  With her new-found freedom, she also found that Scott, Mike and Dana were no longer as bothersome as they had been in the past. She would still get an earful now and then from Scott, but he didn’t talk as much as he once had. It almost felt as though she was finally on the right track. Maybe her life was moving forward again. She never really understood how she fell into depression, so to her it made perfect sense that she might not ever know when she would fight her way back out again. Maybe one should not question things when they are going well. Just ride the white horse into the sunset and see what happens.

  Since it was Friday night and Melissa was at her mother’s house, she told her she was going to the movies later that night. She would pick Sarah up, and the two of them would head out as soon as school was over. She would pick up her little sisters and bring them home, but this was the only time she had to spare. She felt so independent with her newfound driving status. It had the added benefit of making her feel grown up.

  Her mother grunted her acceptance, and Melissa was off to plan her evening. She, of course, was not going to the movies. “The movies” was a standard excuse for everyone her age who really planned to go to a party. All the kids had the plan pretty down pat. They would even buy the movie tickets which benefitted everyone. The theater sold more seats, the patrons enjoyed less people actually in the movies, and the kids got to do what they wanted. How many times is it possible to please everyone so easily? Melissa and Sarah headed out to yet again another party. The scenes melted together as they all held a basic pattern. They would both drink way too much and end up with one boy or another. They might or might not have sex with them, and during all of this Scott enjoyed himself immensely. He loved the plans and the parties, but for the most part let Melissa do the coordinating with little intervention. He might come up with an idea now and then, but he was much more silent as of late. He sat in the background in the inner recesses of her mind.

  This was the first time Melissa drove to a party. It was the first time she had been allowed out at night under these circumstances. Her mom had plans for the evening anyway, and it was easier if Melissa was not around. It seemed that Melissa not being around was easier on everyone. Thoughts of leaving this world entered her head, and she wondered if her family would not be better off. What did she provide for them anyway? An amusement? A simple toy to discuss and discard when it became old?

  As it ended up the party was pretty much like all the rest they attended. Alcohol, drugs, and boys were plentiful, and they hung out, getting intoxicated. Me
lissa met a boy named Scott, of all things, and she really did like him. He seemed different than the rest, but then again they all seemed different in the beginning. Since she was only supposed to be at a movie her time was cut short, and she abruptly told Scott she had to go. She didn’t feel too drunk to drive, and she made her way out to the car to find Sarah.

  Melissa stood waiting for several minutes, but Sarah was nowhere to be found. That was not typical Sarah. She was normally on time. Melissa was now beginning to feel a little nauseated and was ready to drive home before her stomach got any worse. She ran back in the house and asked Scott if he had seen her. He really did seem like a decent guy and offered to help her look around. There were still kids everywhere. Music blared in the background, most of them were drunk at this point, and several of them danced in the living room. The house was a complete disaster.

  The two of them ran upstairs and after opening a couple of doors saw Sarah. A boy held her hair with his left hand, and he smacked her across the face as they entered. He yelled at her. Slurred was more like it.

  “You damn bitch, you bit me.”

  Over and over again, he yelled. Melissa stood there with her mouth open. Scott ran forward and tackled the other boy as they both fell forward. Sarah, just sat there for a moment and then slowly toppled over like she was no longer in control of her body. Jesus, what had happened?

  Melissa landed next to her in one leap and tried to get her to talk. It seemed Sarah was coherent, but she wasn’t focusing. Melissa screamed at this point.

  “Sarah, let’s go home, please Sarah, please, dear God, get up!”

  Luckily, they stumbled to their feet, and with Melissa’s help, they practically fell downstairs to her car. She helped Sarah into the passenger’s seat, and at that point Melissa noticed Sarah didn’t have on her pants. She hadn’t seen them and had no idea where they were. Melissa just wanted to leave. She was crying and sad and tired of this life she was leading. She no longer wanted to be this person she was turning into. Who was she?

  As she started her car and backed up Scott hit his hand against her window. He yelled at her and told her not to drive home. She couldn’t focus, but she knew there was no way she was going to stop. He relentlessly continued, begging her to get out, and she refused. She threw the car in drive and as she lurched forward, she heard him scream to turn her lights on. He repeated it over and over again. Melissa had not turned her headlights on, and she was getting ready to pull out into the road.

  Maybe there was a nice guy left in the world. Maybe all he had wanted to do was help her. She pulled into the road and made a left-hand turn. Sadly, she made the left-hand turn onto a one-way street. She saw the sign the second it was too late to turn around. There were no cars coming in her direction, but they were all stopped at the light on the next block. The traffic light happened to flip green at that exact moment. She cried. She hit her steering wheel and cried. She just needed all of this to stop.

  She pulled to her right in a driveway, stopped the car, turned off the lights and shut down the engine. In the dark with Sarah piled up next to her in the passenger seat, she swore this was it. She might get into trouble, she might not always do the right thing, but she was no longer doing this. She could no longer keep it together. She just wanted to be home in bed. She wanted to be safe in bed where these things didn’t happen to girls like her.

  That was when Scott, the bad Scott, interrupted her. Again, he had been quietly listening in the background. He screamed at her. He called her names.

  “You stupid little bitch, are you a 5-year-old child? Who do you think you are? I made you, and I can break you. You’ll do what I tell you to or I’ll kill you tonight, and I won’t give it a second thought. ”

  She felt the pressure erupting inside, and Sarah stirred next to her. She screamed out loud for Scott to please quit. It just didn’t seem like she could continue.

  Then, she heard a knocking on her window. Scott had followed her. She rolled the window down this time and sobbed. He held her head and told her it was ok. He offered to drive her home. She needed to let him in the car. His friend had a car and would follow them. He just wanted to help. How could this boy, this incredibly nice boy be named Scott? It was too scary. It didn’t make sense. Yet nothing made sense. Life was too screwed up.

  Melissa crawled into the backseat, and Scott drove them home. They dropped Sarah off first, sneaking her into her bedroom. Maybe she wouldn’t remember the dreadful night. Melissa had several nights she wished she could forget. After they got Sarah settled, they drove to Melissa’s house. They parked her car, and Scott asked if she was OK. Melissa said yes and thanked him. She gave Scott her phone number when he asked, and he promised he would call. The hope in life can be found in the strangest places, she thought.

  Melissa made it through the door and to her bedroom without notice. As usual, her mom was probably not home or had a date upstairs. She wondered which guy was that night’s flavor. Maybe it was somebody new. Maybe it was somebody completely different than the men that so often paraded about their home as if they belonged there. God, was Melissa no better than her mother? Maybe it was the other way around. Maybe her mother was no better than Melissa. They were both hurting so badly. How does the dissolving of a marriage tear apart the lives of so many people? Can a single act change the course of everyone it touches?

  Right before she closed her eyes she got a text from Scott, asking her if she was ok. Was everything fine when she got home? She replied yes, told him thanks, and said she was going to bed. She was so tired. She wanted to sleep and dream. She could only hope that the Scott who infiltrated her nighttime thoughts was not the evil Scott she knew so well. This new Scott seemed so nice. As her eyes closed and she cried as she heard the voice appeared in her nightmares. He was still there, and he was angry. He wasn’t about to leave so easily, and he would punish her for trying to keep him at bay.

  He knew her too well and had invested too much time. He was going to have fun tonight.

  As I lay me down to sleep

  I pray the Lord my soul to keep

  When this fails, I dare not weep

  As Scott can hear my every peep

  I wish I may, I wish I might

  Find some rest on this here night

  With nothing left, no will to fight

  Scott scoffs at me, then dims my light.

  The Family

  The Family

  They lived next door to our little two-bedroom house in Burlingame. There was the father Melvin, the mother Sandra, and the two little girls Marcia and Rachel. Marcia was 6 years old, and Rachel was 2. I, admittedly, was slightly partial to Rachel. She was so damn cute when she said hello, and I loved her little accent. They were of Cuban and Mexican descent. Not really sure which side was what, but whatever combination it was, they had produced the most adorable little kids you could imagine.

  The four of them lived with Sandra’s parents and have lived there since we moved in. My youngest daughter, Cassandra, played with them almost every single day. She would always rush to get her homework done and, then, run next door to see what they were doing. As a kid, having somebody in the neighborhood to hang out with is one of the best feelings in the world. It gives you such a sense of independence to be in charge of your own destiny, as you race to their back yard and play a simple game of kickball.

  Both little girls had jet black hair and olive-colored skin. Rachel’s little dimples on her plump cheeks made me smile every time I saw her face. I loved it when they ate dinner with us. They were the pickiest little kids I had ever seen. At only 2 years old, she would sort through her fruit looking for anything with the slightest imperfection. She would examine each grape meticulously, ensuring not a single brown spot blemished the outer layer of skin. I used to crack up as they sat at our table, picking and prodding, eating very little but laughing the whole way. I guess other people might have found it rude, but I just thought they were both adorable.

  I took my girls to
the San Francisco Zoo one afternoon when we had a holiday and had managed to talk Sandra into letting Marcia come with us. She felt Rachel was too young, and it was even hard for her to let Marcia go with us. I later found out that was the first trip out of the house Marcia had taken with somebody other than family. Luckily, there were no mishaps and she made it back in one piece.

  It had been a fantastic day. Granted, the San Francisco Zoo is now a little dilapidated and in great need of repair, but we had a wonderful time nonetheless. I packed some snacks, fruit, crackers, cheese, etc. OK, I admit it, Karen packed the snacks for me. But I was the one who remembered to bring them. We bought season passes, thinking we’d go a few more times. But that didn’t work out. How can one ever predict the future? Our day, filled with such happiness and fun, was nothing but a prelude to death and sadness.

  The girls’ highlight of the day was the playground which seemed to be a focal point for several kids. It was, by far, the most packed area of the zoo. I still find it interesting that you go to a zoo to play on playground equipment even though it can be found almost anywhere. I would have preferred to see additional animals, but most of the exhibits left me feeling sad for the creatures, than in awe of their natural majesty. The African exhibit might have been the lone exception. It was relatively new and was in good condition.

  We were out a few hours, headed home and found our way back to our respective houses right next door to each other. I never spent much time with Melvin and Sandra, but I’d spent enough to feel comfortable sending Cassandra their way and them vice versa. How well do you really know neighbors, I guess? A barbecue on occasion, a wave hello, and a wave goodbye as you pass each other on the front lawn.