AND WORLD Short Story 1: First Memories

THE AND WORLD SERIES: Memories

Act 1

The Father

I've always loved the idea of a father, even if it was just an idea formed from the shows on television.

A funny, lovable, hard-working man, who means well for the betterment of his family. Whether it be getting the kids toys they really want, playing the unsung hero in working not to hurt anyone's feelings, or just being there when his family needs him to be.

This idea I had was reinforced by all the kids' stories at school, about their fathers taking them there for vacation and buying them whatever for their birthdays. At some point, I'd had enough and had a sit down with my mother, telling her, "I think it's about time I got a dad."

After choking on her coffee, she asked me what I was on about.

"Look, Mom, I'm getting older and older every year. I know the tooth fairy isn't really real, though it still wouldn't hurt you to pretend and give me some cash anyway."

"Money is tight all around, Andrew-" she began before I cut her off, holding my spoon up in the air, spilling cereal and milk on our crummy table and beat-up kitchen floor.

"If I don't get a dad soon like all the other kids, I'm gonna end up going to college as the weird guy who didn't have a father. I can't have that, Mom. I'm old enough to have one now."

From then on, my mom ignored every conversation I started about having a father. It wasn't until I was laughed at and mocked at school, for asking how others had gotten their dads, that someone had filled me in. I was told, "Dads are gotten when you're born, dumbass. If you don't have one, that means he left you and your mom."

I can hear that kid's laugh to this day. The idea of a father is still nice, though.

After my school incident, at the next breakfast with my mother, I asked, "Why did Dad go?"

She didn't say anything, just clenched her jaw. A protruding vein appeared on her forehead, and her eye started to twitch. Without a single word, she got up and went out for a few minutes, then returned smelling of smoke. She went over to the T.V. set and fiddled around with the controls, before giving me a speech on watching only the nature channel from then on.

All the other channels needed a parental code, so I couldn't watch any more shows or movies or music, only nature things. So, I didn't have a father like the other kids at school, and now I didn't even have the knowledge of the shows, movies, and music they spoke about. And after laughing at the thought that we couldn't afford more channels, they eventually got tired of me just standing there, mute. I became that kid, still as a tombstone, sitting or standing on the other side of the playground and classrooms. Everyone else just went about their business.

I didn't see the point of speaking to my mother unless I needed to, if all she was going to do was ignore me and take away shows that helped me cope. Between the two, trying to have a nice chat with my mother and watching T.V., I missed the latter more. At least with my shows, I was able to form ideas I loved. Feeling that I loved something made waking up every day a worthwhile experience, knowing that there was something to look forward to.

I replayed the different nature shows in my head to stop from crying during recess. As soon as I felt tears well up, watching groups of other kids laugh and play together, I'd recite the narration of the episode from the night before, over and over until it was time to go back to class, where I could distract myself with whatever the teacher needed done.

Act 2

The Birds

Seeing Max for the first time was kind of like looking into a mirror-a mirror that made me look older and had me clutching a red-bound black book, awkwardly. "Counselors idea," I'd heard his father mutter to my mother before introducing me.