…I felt bad just a second later, realizing that what I said might have been harsh.
“I’m sorry” I said, “I know your trying and I know this isn’t easy.” “No you don’t.” He answered sharply. He rolled his eyes and slumped into his chair. He sighed. I knew at that point nothing could be the same. Nothing had been the same since I told my parents he needed help. Our relationship took a hit when he started taking money from me to buy alcohol and coming home drunk at 4pm. A part of me just feels bad and another part of me wants to tell him to man up and deal with it… SCENE 1 I scaled the multiple groups of college runners hoping to spot him as the announcer called for his event. I recognized his curly hair in the sea of competitors as he made his way to the starting point. The boys lined up next to one another as the red sea of college kids began to part, revealing the track. One by one they got in starting position, each of them taking one last glance at their supporters before attempting to reach their personal goal. I waved, hoping he would spot me. Eventually, his hazel eyes met mine. He had always been more of the suffer-in-silence type, but underneath his male genetics that forced him to bury anything that could come off as weak, I sensed his bubbling anxiety. Years of living with, arguing with, and relying on him allowed me to read him like a book. I noticed the same gloomy aura that plagued his being whenever my parents fought. I had spent years feeling as if there was a parachute tied to my back every time I tried to escape. He’d always helped me shake it off. He would always say “no matter what happens, everything will be okay”. He constantly found ways to keep me afloat, even when he was drowning. Today, his parachute was the fear of losing everything he had worked toward. I kept my eyes locked to his as the announcer raised the gun to the sky. Moments before he pulled the trigger signaling the boys to run, I mouthed “no matter what happens, everything will be ok”. The corners of his mouth lifted as he turned his head and stared straight. His face became tense and I could tell he was motivated to win. I held my ears as the announcer pulled the trigger. The outcomes of distance races are hard to forecast because there’s so much time for change. After about 10 minutes, I saw a uniform in the distance about to claim first. I squinted my eyes trying to make out who it was. Suddenly, I noticed the same hazel eyes that had been fearing loss just a few minutes before. He smiled as his stride picked up and he began to sprint to assure his victory. Oh no. I realized there was someone right behind him that he did not see. I screamed “RIGHT BEHIND YOU COLLIN! RUN!!!” His grin faded as he turned his head and saw the boy shortly behind him in pursuit of the same thing. He picked up his speed. I was amazed by how much his endurance had grown. He crossed the finish line a few seconds before the other boy. When his foot went over the line, I felt a wave of pride spill over me. The happiness I felt watching him succeed was unlike anything I had felt before. I watched as he walked away to converse with teammates and his coaches. It stung a little that he had overlooked my presence. If I had known this was only a preview of the future, I would have cherished the moment more. SCENE 2 “So how are you? How is it here?” I asked him. I leaned back against the uncomfortable chair in the lobby. The lights were low. The floor was covered with a brown rug. The secretary sat at the desk and looked over every few minutes. “It’s good. I’m fine” I saw his eyes which were always the window to his emotions. He looked down and avoided eye contact. He looked tired and his eyelids were hanging lower than usual. I rested my hand on his shoulder. He slowly looked into my eyes and for the first time, I wasn’t the one with the parachute holding me back. It was my turn to help him escape. “Don’t feel ashamed. Don’t feel embarrassed. It’s just me… I thought your ugly ass would be a little happier to see me.” I tried to poke fun with him but my attempts were clearly failing. He chuckled, obviously faking it. I saw his A.A. notebook peering out from behind his pocket. “Did you meet anyone new in here?” I asked with a hopeful tone. “Bunch of addicts.” He shrugged off my attempt to make positive conversation. “You aren’t allowed to judge them.” I told him. I felt bad just a second later, realizing that what I said might have been harsh. “I’m sorry” I said, “I know your trying and I know this isn’t easy.” “No you don’t.” He answered sharply. He rolled his eyes and slumped into his chair. He sighed. I knew at that point nothing could be the same. Nothing had been the same since I told my parents he needed help. Our relationship took a hit when he started taking money from me to buy alcohol and coming home drunk at 4pm. A part of me just feels bad and another part of me wants to tell him to man up and deal with it. “How’s the kids?” He asked me. I felt hopeful that our conversation would turn around. “Mia and Brady are good. They’re getting so big it’s crazy. Riley is good too. She’s taking the divorce well I think… every time I try to talk to her about it she tells me that she’s happy. She says they don’t fight now that they aren’t together.” He nodded slowly and thought for a second. “Mom?” I sighed. “Still having a midlife crisis. Riley has become my responsibility whenever I’m there. I think she’s lonely” He looked at me and agreed. “You gotta be there for her.” He told me. For a moment I thought he’d returned to his original role. The big brother role that gave me advice and let me vent to him. “I’m trying. I also have school and work.” He rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t matter. Family first. Always.” His hands fidgeted. He pulled his 1 week sober A.A. chip out of his pocket and began playing with it. I held out my hand hoping he’d let me see it. He looked at me and hesitantly placed it in my hand. I could tell he took pride in it and valued it greatly. “This is just the first step. You’ll have a lot more of these pretty soon.” He took it back and shoved it in his pocket. He doesn’t like receiving praise for things. He’s hated attention for as long as I remember. In middle school our principal, Mr. Tracy, used to announce all the birthdays over the loudspeaker. Every year on April 21st, Collin would go in early just so that he could remind Mr. Tracy to skip his name. “I gotta get back for a meeting in five.” He told me. I stood up and hugged him. He had been cold and distant all night but when he hugged me, I could tell he needed it. I watched him walk through the door into the meeting room. I walked over to the desk to sign out and peered in the room. I saw him sitting in a chair in a circle with other addicts. His parachute was dragging him back. It was my turn to help him run.
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GillianBlog for English Comp 1 Archives
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