H. A. Carter

by Kimberly Fuller

  26

  BANG!

  It was as if firecrackers and bombs had exploded in every confine of my mind all at once. Screams ignited throughout the cafeteria. Panic clogged the air. My ears rang uncontrollably from the loud echo of the gun shot. I let out a slow sigh. It was so easy, so easy to pull the trigger. I laughed slightly at the sheer simplicity of it all. Then I opened my eyes in anticipation, but they opened to a picture of surreal pandemonium I could not comprehend. I had hit a target, but it was the wrong one.

  27

  “I think I hate that guy just as much as you do anymore.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  Joanna sat comfortably next to me on my mother's worn, coffee colored couch. She was wrapped tightly in a cocoon of blankets with my arms wrapped tighter around her as we stared uninterested at the late night horror movie playing on TV. It was below freezing outside, but my mother insisted on keeping the heat down to cut costs. It used to bother me, but lately, it's worked in my favor. The sweet coconut scent of her hair engulfed my every thought as she cuddled closer. All I wanted was to be in this quiet moment with her forever. Away from school, away from our parents, and especially away from JJ.

  She squeezed my arm slightly, her hand warm and soft. I looked back into the fathoms of her brown-green eyes.

  “What do you think I should do?”

  I wish we could talk about something else right now. Anything else.

  “Just ignore him,” I sighed, “Paying any attention to that moron only gives him more reason to be a jerk. He thrives on making other people miserable. Look what he does to me for Christ sakes! Have you tried telling your parents?”

  “Yes, but you know how my dad is with Jack. He thinks he's God or something. He never listens to me about it, and when I think he does all he says is that I should be flattered. I swear, my dad kisses his butt like it's strawberry candy.”

  We both chuckled a little. Joanna's dad, Seth, and Jack Sr. were co-workers at Bob's Auto Mart. Jack Sr. was Seth's boss and therefore his “best friend”. Unfortunately, that only meant JJ could do no wrong in Seth's eyes. And this fact was the biggest reason why I was Joanna's dirty little secret.

  Joanna breathed deeply and let out a long thoughtful sigh. Her eyes darkened with unrelenting worry. I could tell this was really getting to her. Perhaps this situation was more serious than I thought. I wish I knew how to reassure her that JJ is full of smoke. She says she has faith in me to protect her, but I feel so weak and unworthy right now. A real boyfriend would know how to handle this. A real boyfriend would walk straight up to that bastard, punch him right in the face, and tell him to screw off. I, on the other hand, could do nothing. Nothing. What the hell does she see in me?

  28

  “Please, please just let me die. Just get it over with,” I plead quietly to the still, empty, frigid air. No one answers back. No one Here cares that I want to die. I know I deserve this. I deserve all of this. God, I want to take it back! I want to take it all back. At this point I don't care what happened to me in school, just as long as I didn't feel like this anymore. If someone had told me then that as soon as you leave high school, none of what happens there ever really matters to you anymore, I would have thought they were delusional. Or perhaps one of those lucky ones who skated by high school with no more than a scratch or a bruise on their ego. I wish I had been one of those lucky ones, able to just move on.

  No moving on Here.

  No smiling Here.

  No laughing Here.

  No joking Here.

  No living...Here.

  Isolated from happiness. Forced to feel cold and alone.

  “Oh, Mother, what have I become?”

  I'm utterly ashamed to think of what her soft accepting blue eyes would see when they gazed upon the gaunt figure that looms in the shadows that was once her little boy.

  JJ was right all along. I am nothing but a black mark. If only there were an eraser big enough to rid the world of me. Even through all my brilliance I couldn't manage to make anything go right. Everyone around me suffered, and no matter how hard I tried, I failed them. I failed them! I'm a failure!

  A failure and a fraud. When I should have been able to offer safety and security, I offered nothing but disappointment. I failed my mother, John, and Joanna. At some point they relied on me and I let them down. Yes, I deserve to be Here. As the old saying goes, “if I only knew then what I know now”.

  What would I do different now that I do know? In actuality would I really have done anything different?

  Yes. I'd like to think so. I'd like to think deep down I'm not a monster. Yet, bit by tormented bit I was pieced together with every scornful “joke” they pulled on me. Stillwater High School's own personal Frankenstein. Stitched together inch by inch, each person adding a little at a time until finally, the monster was completed. All I needed was that one final lightening storm to bring me to life.

  Why did he do it? Why did he have to push me? Why couldn't he just leave things the hell alone? Why couldn't he just let me be happy? Why!?

  Where are the torches and pitchforks when you need them?

  29

  “Harvey, Honey, it's time to get ready for school.”

  I stood half dressed in the doorway. My mom sat slumped over the kitchen table, tired and exhausted. Dark circles encompassed her light blue eyes. She was quietly sipping her coffee with two creams and four sugars. I hesitated slightly as I began to approach the table, the cracked linoleum cold and hard through my tattered socks. I'd been planning this moment for weeks, but was unsure if I could bring myself to do it. Had it not been for our recent family tree project in school I might never have worked up the courage to do so in the first place. My project was a botched piece of fabrication that I'm sure everyone was able to see right through.

  The blank stare on my mother's face made her look vulnerable and beaten. I was scared, but if it was going to happen, it had to happen now.

  “Where's my father?” I said shakily, almost stuttering.

  My mother never moved, never put down her coffee, never stopped staring at the paint chipped wall.

  “He's gone.” she said bluntly.

  That's all she ever said when anyone asked where he was. He had to be somewhere. I wanted to know, needed to know.

  “Where did he go?”

  Still lifeless, she uttered, “back home,” just slightly above a faint whisper.

  Well, that was start! She had never said that before! All I needed now was to find out where he lived.

  “Where's home?”

  “Not here.”

  “Yeah, but where? What town? Maybe I can find him? Maybe he's looking for us too?” I began firing question after question, getting louder and louder as my excitement grew.

  “No, Harvey. He's...he's not. He knows right where we are. He's not looking for us. We're better off without him anyway.”

  My stomach dropped. If he knew where we were why hadn't he come to visit? Or called? Why hadn't he ever even seen me? Didn't he care?

  I ran toward her, mouth open and ready to ask, when she cut me off.

  “Harvey, I said no!” she put her hand up in front of my face angrily, stopping me quick. I knew the hand meant business, but a kid needs to know!

  “But, Mom...”

  She shook her head in quiet frustration.

  “Damn it, Harvey! No!” she screamed. It takes a lot to make her crack, but any conversation involving my father easily broke her. I suddenly felt a wash of guilt come over me as I realized I had done just that in record time.

  She stood up from the table and stormed off to her room. Her coffee left untouched on the table, still steaming. I had gone eight years of my life not having a dad. The crushing reality that I never will brought pools of hot tears to my eyes.

  I stood in the cold kitchen longer than I should have, my courage deflated. By the time I was dressed and out the door, I was already ten minutes late to my 3rd grade class. Today, I didn't
care. Today, I didn't care about anything.

  30

  I often wonder what the old man thinks of me now. Now that I'm trapped Here. I'm sure all it's done is justify every rotten thought he's ever had of me since hearing of my existence. Worthless, unwanted, the destroyer of dreams. That son of a bitch is probably kicking up his heals, dancing for joy now that I'm Here. I guess in the end, we both got a little piece of what we wanted. The only real loser in this game was my mom. I wonder if he had ever cared about her at all.

  31

  The smooth hard steel grew warm in my hand. Small puffs of hot smoke rose seductively out of the barrel of the gun. Everyone began to scatter like rats from a sinking ship. The screeching chaos consuming the cafeteria became barely audible as my concentration zoned in on JJ. He hid, cowering under the table like a scared rabbit.

  I was mortified. Why was he not writhing in pain? I just shot him for fuck's sake!

  Peering just to the right of JJ's quivering form, lay a scrawny, lifeless body.

  Oh no. Oh no. Oh no! This isn't supposed to be happening!

  My hands started to tremble as I began to lose my nerve. I strolled quickly over to Thomas Walt's dead body. How did I miss JJ? How did this happen?

  Mike began to cry hard child-like tears as I peered at the body. His lips quivering uncontrollably as his bugged out eyes took in the gory scene in front of his face.

  “Why'd you push him, Man? Why?” he whimpered hysterically, hugging his knees close to his now shaking body as he stared past me. I turned my head, following his gaze.

  JJ's usual calm arrogant face turned a powdery white as Mike pointed an accusatory finger in his direction. He began shaking his head back and forth in exaggerated disagreement. Mike's fat finger kept steadily aimed at JJ as I walked closer.

  “You saying JJ pushed him?”

  His incessant bawling grew louder and louder, tears now mixing with snot as he cried nodding his head. Anger and overwhelming fury spilled over deep inside my heart as my hatred for JJ grew to unholy proportions. Mike's pathetic groveling only pushed me farther over the edge. Hard to imagine this piece of shit sobbing at my feet was an unsympathetic monster only days before. He had been in on it too, after all.

  My heart ached for poor Thomas. He didn't deserve this. I swallowed hard, trying desperately to accept the gravity of my actions, sure that I was going straight to Hell for this one. Yet, it was so easy for me to pull the trigger. A slight flick of the finger and it was lights out, Gracie. Screams grew immensely all around me, so loud I nearly went deaf. I ignored them, ignored Thomas, ignored Mike's wretched weeping just as they had all ignored me. Their pain meant nothing to me now.

  Bang! Bang!

  I shot Mike twice in the chest. The first one made a minute almost perfect cylindrical hole in the front of his neon green shirt just above the giant toilet declaring, “Life's a potty.” The second shot, not so pretty, had ripped the flesh from his heaving sobbing body. Splatters of red oozing blood clung to the wall behind him mixing with fragments of his shirt giving the smooth walls of the cafeteria a Jackson Pollack like appearance of scarlet and green. A choking gurgle escaped his throat as his heart beat for the last time, a slim red river flowing slowly down the side of his mouth as he toppled to the floor. A still, crumpled slump was all that was now left of JJ's second in command.

  Gazing around I watched as my classmates, my “peers”, my “equals”, all ran down the panic stricken hallways trying desperately to escape me. Intensity overcame me, and my heart beat out of control. My eyes blurred, my stomach lurched, my head whirled like a merry-go-round. My head kept spinning and spinning and spinning. I fought off the wave of nausea and fear creeping up my spine.

  My head slowly stopped. I turned around.

  A large figure suddenly enveloped my vision. It was John. Horrified and scared as all the rest of the lackeys. His eyes were blood-shot and fearful. Their blue tint almost fading completely.

  A brief moment of nostalgia washed across my soul. His eyes begged me to stop. I lowered the gun, letting it hang limp in my hand, dangling vulnerably at my side. I stared back into his pale

  terrified face, seeing nothing but shameful, apologetic fear. The same fear I had felt every day of my life growing up because of people like JJ. The same hurtful guilt ridden fear that had kept me prisoner for so long. John, of all people, knew this fear just as much as I had. Not only knew it, but understood it.

  John dropped to his knees heavily in front of me, head down. He wasn't going to stop me.

  A soft warm hand gently touched my shoulder from behind, calming my nerves, bringing me back from the past.

  “It's almost over, Harvey.”

  32

  I have always found it quite ironic how people used to tell me to move on, get over it, deal with it. Yeah, I dealt with it in the end. I made them see. Made them all see how wretched their souls really were. In a way, I think I saved them. Without me they would have continued to bully people their entire lives. Year after year. Decade after decade. Tormenting, torturing, belittling those they deemed unworthy. Yes, I did the world a justice. I saved all those poor unfortunates the shame of being harassed by arrogant assholes who, more often than not, were actually the weaker links.

  Yes, I am a savior.

  I am a savior, right?

  33

  Dear God, I think I'm losing it. Nothing seems right to me anymore. Am I justified or simply an unjust demon? Why can't I see clearly anymore? My memories are so sporadic that I am losing any notion of past and present. Did that just happen or had it happened years ago? Thoughts and actions melting together in swirling uncontrolled chaos. What's happening to me?!

  *

  My mother sat weeping quietly at the cracked kitchen table. Her frail hands combing comfortingly through her dulling raven hair. I stood motionless in the shadows of the hallway. I could tell it had been yet another failed first date. One of seemingly hundreds these days. Why is she doing this to herself? I wondered.

  My mother had recently perked a new found interest in dating again. Well, not exactly again. Actually, I can't even say I remembered her dating all that much before now. Despite her lack of practice in the wide world of love, she suddenly acted like it was now or never and responded to almost every offer that came her way. Unfortunately, even though her enthusiasm seemed genuine to the outside world, inside I knew she didn't really want to find someone else. Her heart still belonged to my long lost father, though she'd never admit it. This lack of subconscious knowledge or acceptance on her part now lead to disastrous and self destructive first and last dates.

  Tonight's contestant had been Vern Meyer. He was a local guy who she met shopping at Marv's. Vern went shopping every Saturday morning to buy exactly $20 in groceries, never less, never more. He wasn't what anyone would call handsome, that's for sure. He was shiny bald, not a stitch of hair on his head. Vern was a touch on the heavy side and barely stood a few inches taller than my mother, which she discovered when she decided to wear heels. He was quiet, very articulate when he spoke, and all in all a pretty nice guy. However, unbeknownst to my mother, good-natured, shy Vern was a huge religious fanatic and spent the majority of the date trying to convince my atheist mother to “save” her soul and repent. Needless to say the only thing she repented was Vern's advances at the door when he walked her home.

  Thus, the sobbing mess slumped over the table just ten feet from where I stood. I debated on whether or not to approach her. I wanted to comfort her and tell her he wasn't good enough anyway,

  but feared I'd only embarrass her by acknowledging I had caught her crying.

  I opted to just leave her be, whether or not that was the right choice. I watched her just a few extra minutes as she lay her head on her arm and cried herself into a quiet sleep. Deep sorrow boiled within me. I wanted to find my father, shake him as hard as I could, and then smear his worthless ass into the wet salty ground my mother continues to cry over because of him. Why she still cares
after all these years is constantly beyond me. I just don't see how you can let someone consume you like that. How do you let one person determine the outcome of your entire life? I'm never going to let someone do that to me. No one will be that important that I'd live through the hell she does. No one.

  *

  Oh how naive I was then! To think, I actually believed that I'd never fall in love. To be quite honest, I'm sure no one else thought I would either. That was one misconception I was glad they were wrong about.

  34

  JJ opened the wedding white door of his two story home with a gleaming smile on his face. That smile quickly fading as his eyes came into focus on my bony fist heading straight for his head. I made instant contact with the top of his puffy cheekbone, almost crushing my fingers in hot pain. A suffocated choke spewed out of JJ's mouth as I pushed my hand through his face. JJ rocked back only slightly, his hand touching his face tenderly, fire now erupting in his eyes. I could tell he was still in shock as his puny brain tried to comprehend his next move. Should he punch me back or slice me with an insult? I didn't wait for him to make up his mind before I struck again. This time my left hand drew up like a rocket, slamming hard into the corner of his chin. I could hear that familiar sound of grinding bones as his teeth made contact with each other. This time, JJ not only rocked, but nearly fell to the ground. This was my chance.