A Story

A boy sits on the beach. It is a small beach just a tiny ribbon of sand on a small lake. A few feet above sits a road cars stream past and the boy tries to ignore them. He is playing in the sand with the lake and sun at his back. The cars make too much noise, he is trying to hard to ignore the cars. They intrude too much on his imagination, his kingdom of sand does not have cars. A girl, his sister, walks out of the water splashing him, she laughingly, tells him to get in the water and play with her. She is so bossy but he loves her, she is the only person in his life that always looks out for him. She is like an ever vigilant gunslinger, always scanning the horizon for threats to him. He doesn't even know how often she has protected him, but she does it because he needs it and she loves him. Somehow, when she isn't near him he doesn't feel quiet real.

Today it is just the two of them, no threats, no one to worry about. They have walked to the beach from home down the hot asphalt road of their neighborhood. They run from one shadow to another it is a dare who can run the slowest. They will spend most of the afternoon at the lake. She splashes him again and tells him to get up they are going to race into the water. 

They are are older now. He will be going to school with out her and worries about it. He still has that feeling like he is not real without her. Everyone complements him on his looks, his intelligence, his sweetness. It always feels fake to him, the adults trying to shore him up, they view him as breakable. Like he is boy made of glass, they are always trying to stop him from cracking. She doesn't she just tells him to be strong. He doesn't feel strong, he feels like that boy made of glass. But she tells him that he will be alright. Their older sister will be at the school with him. 

He goes to school alone and alone he sits on the bus listening to his portable cassette player. Trying again to ignore the noise around him. It isn't like the noise of the street at the beach which is just that, noise. This is jeers, taunts, and things thrown at him. They make fun of him on the bus and he knows they will make fun of him at the school. They know he is different, he knows he is different, he doesn't fit in. They smell it like wolves on the trail of a wounded deer, they are driven by instinct to harass him. They damage him because they can, and because he does not fit in. He tries to disappear, but he can't, the more he tries to blend in the more he stands out. And she is not there to protect him from them. 

It is high school now, she is back with him, she stands next to him at their locker. She is older now, has her own life, friends other than him. She still looks out for him but it is harder now, she is no longer the ever vigilant gunslinger, she is distant. She watches him from the horizon, but is distracted by her own needs, she just cannot be there for him. She still loves him but it is different now, they are no longer inseparable. Her life demands her attention. 

He feels a bit stronger, but the kids are now teens, they have honed their instincts. He has done everything he can to throw them off his path but they still plague him. They can see through the ruses that his has thrown up. He walks down the hall, someone throws something at him, it is one of those stupid bouncy balls. It hits him squarely in the back of the head. He doesn't turn around.Someone yells, Faggot! It hangs there in the hall. Everyone knows who it is directed at. He tries not to speed up or slow down, he tries not to acknowledge that it has been said. But everyone is looking at him, he closes his eyes, and thanks god that his classroom is a few feet away. Hey Fag...again...it hangs. Again he tries not to acknowledge that it has been said.  He is now safe in class. Class is safe, there is an adult there. He is always vaguely uncomfortable with himself.  

He is now home, he goes up stairs walks past her closed door. He wishes he could walk down to the beach with her like they used to but he can't. He goes to his room, he is greeted by toys and the trappings of his childhood. He picks up the book he is reading and gets into bed. He is able to ignore the world for a while. Pretend that what happened today didn't happen. It did. He wishes that he had not been born, but he has. He cries. He wishes she would save him. He wishes that he was more like his older brother and older sister; smart, popular, and outgoing, they do the things he cannot. He wishes that his parents understood him, that they knew how to make him feel better. Above all he wishes she was still there for him. 

They are older now he has his own life, she has hers. He no longer needs to be saved but she is there for him. He is now there for her too. Every now and then he thinks about his childhood and how much she means to him.