Axel Diaz
"I can't believe you didn't give that girl your number," my friend, Matt, stated in awe as he trailed along beside me, his shaggy, brown hair blowing with the wind. I shrugged in response, diverting my gaze as I readjusted the shopping bags in my arms.
Matt and I had been friends since we were at least fourteen. We attended the same schools and even played the same sports. We were completely different though and still had different views on some topics.
For example, I loved photography and he loved soccer.
I loved the country my people came from, Spain, and he hated people that couldn't speak English in America.
And I was a raging homo and he hated the LGBT community.
I had no intentions of telling him of my secret and I kind of just hoped that I could convince him not to be such a hater towards the community because Matt was probably one of my closest and only friends. If I lost him, I would have nothing left outside of my family.
My legs strained slightly while we made our way down the usual hill to my home. The hill had a small road that cut through it and it overlooked the rest of the city, showing off the other beautiful roads and woods that were scattered here and there.
We were close to the bottom of the hill where the road merged with another one but that road was always empty and slightly run down. It was the same road that the boy who loved to run would go for his too early morning jogs and midnight runs. I never learned of the mysterious boy's name but sometimes in my head, I would refer to him as Chris because he looked like a Chris.
I glanced at my watch, the one my grandfather had given my father before my family went on their voyage to America, our new home, while I was safe in my mother's womb. It told me that it was about six in the evening and an alarm seemed to go off in my head.
Ignoring Matt's rambling about some new soccer player on his team, I looked over the railing of the hill, holding onto my groceries in my hands. Just like I had expected, the boy- Chris- was positioned in the middle of the old, run down road, his butt sticking in the air as he ducked his head.
I knew the exact face he was making at this point and I possibly knew what his next move would be. He would look straight ahead, determination and fear in his eyes. And then there would be two possibilities of what came next: he would run, faster than the time last or he would freeze and have a panic attack.
I begged he wouldn't have another nervous breakdown and he would just let his heart run free.
But to my dismay, he stayed in his running start position for a few seconds before giving up and collapsing on the ground. He wasn't crying this time but instead, he just flipped over onto his back, his arms and legs stretched out as he stared up at the starless sky. I wanted to know what he was thinking about and if he was thinking about running.
Suddenly, his eyes shifted and we made direct eye contact. The world seemed to move slowly as I stared distantly into his eyes, noticing the blank expression on his face as if he wasn't looking at me but through me. Realization dawned on his face before he began to sit up, a look of confusion on his face.
My cheeks warmed and I realized how much of a creeper I must've look. I scratched the back of my neck awkwardly before giving him a shy wave that only seemed to confuse him even more. With an awkward chuckle, I turned back towards Matt, who had the same confused countenance.
"Dude, that was weird," Matt stated. He moved to look over the railing as well but by that time, Chris was off running, a new look of determination on his sweaty face. "Why were you staring at him for so long?"
I shook my head, clearing any thoughts and instead focused on getting us home before the night surrounded us.
"Come on, we need to get home," I reminded him. He nodded, gave one last glance at the old road before following me home.
Weirdly enough, Matt lived right next door to me and that was how we originally met. It was just another gray day when this strange, loud American boy moved in. I was forced to go next door and give the new family a home baked pie because it was rare that we had neighborhoods since we lived so far from the town. I knew Matt and I were destined to be friends when I saw him playing with a soccer ball inside his living room.
"You comin' over for dinner tonight?" Matt asked, his hand already reaching for his front door as if he knew I was going to say yes. Sighing, I opened my own front door.
"I think I'm just gonna spend some time with the family." He nodded his head in understanding before waving me off.
The moment my foot stepped over the threshold, I was greeted by my adorable younger sister, Cecilia. "Axel!" she giggled as she wrapped her arms around my waist, her fingers desperately grabbing at the back of my shirt. "Did you go to the store? What took you so long? I'm hungry. What's for dinner?"
My eyes widened from all her questions and my only response was to laugh at how adorable she was. Her nine year old brain could only focus on one thing at a time and at that moment, it was focused on eating.
Walking into the home, I noticed the steady quiet air that flowed through the house. The quiet hum of the television could be heard with Cici's doll paying in the background. Setting the bags on the kitchen table, I moved to the living room to look for my mother.
She was curled up on the couch, her eyes shut and her hair wild. When she was awake, she was a very sad, irritable older woman but seeing her asleep, reminded me of how beautiful she actually was or used to be- when she was full of life.
After our father left, she had never been the same. My mother took up two jobs to support our family and I even became a busboy at our local buffet but lost that opportunity after a few weeks.
My high school counselor had told me to focus on my art work when I was a senior. His advice was what pushed me to want to be a better artist and to want to make my passion for photography a living.
My mother just told me it wasn't going to bring in a stable income. So far she was right.
Sighing, I pulled a blanket over her shivering, frail body. She was exhausted, I knew that. She worked hard to keep this old roof over our heads and to keep our stomachs full. I loved her for that and I loved my family, even if it was missing one person.
Hunter Bates
"Just breathe, Hunter," I pleaded as I grasped my head in my hands. I was so much more than just a boy who used to be an all state champion track star but lost his record when he began having mental breakdowns during every meet. "Just breathe."
I stared out at the gloomy, run down road in front of me, loving the odd comfort it offered me. It was empty, gloomy, and practically useless from all the potholes, like me. It only reminded me that I was never going to be who I once was, at least not by myself but it also reminded me that I wasn't alone.
Taking in a deep breath, I regained my composure and took my starting stance once more. All I had to do was run straight and run as fast as my legs would go, just like the old days. The days when my mother would cheer from the sidelines, her high pitched voice louder than the others and giving me the courage to run. The days when I could see pictures of my own mother's track career and then see her run in person the same day. The days when I could run a simple lap and not have to worry what my mother would think because she could tell me in person. Those days.
My body felt ready for this next lap though and so did my brain. My eyes slid shut and I allowed my soul to fill with the tranquility of the world around me. I honed in on the loud whistling of the wind and the way it lifted my hair and clothes. I exhaled deeply.
I willed my body to move forward but like usual, it collapsed and I was laying on my back, staring up at the empty sky that did not welcome me.
I was entrapped with my thoughts that when I shifted my eyes to lock gazes with a strange boy above me, I thought nothing of it. It took me a few moments before I realized this boy was watching me from above and this boy was actually- attractive.
I began to sit up, my brows furrowing together in confusion. How long had this boy been watching me? And why was he watching me so intensely?
The boy waved, shyly, before another head popped over the railing and my eyes grew huge. How many more were up there, watching me fail? I scrambled to my feet, not even caring if they were watching any more and I took off. There were witnesses of me failing at a simple task and crying my small heart out. Everyone knew I was a failure and I was always going to be one.
My legs tore off down the street, running passed the hill and taking the short cut to town. I wanted to get home as soon as possible to wash my guilt and sorrow away. I couldn't handle any more pitiful looks and merciless skies. The stars didn't even twinkle in the sky that night.
A ringing in my ears aided me in ignoring all the chatter and loud noises of busy cars while I ran passed multiple stores and towards my apartment complex. Despite how loud and busy this town was, only a few feet outside of the borders was the calm, tranquil woods and open roads. I liked it out there more.
I made it to my apartment in record time and was greeted by my only loyal friend, Clifford the small, white dog. "Hey, pal," I greeted as I ran my fingers through his curly hair. He stared back at me, his tongue hanging out of the corner of his mouth and his tail jumping up and down.
Sighing, I threw my shirt onto the couch, pressed play on my voicemail recording machine, and moved to the kitchen for a bottled water.
You have one unread message. First unread message:
I hope onto the counter, enjoying the air conditioning and the cool liquid that ran down my throat and into the pit of my stomach.
Hey, Hunt. It's me again. I just wanted to say that I'm thinking about you and your sister and I miss you alot. Let me know if you need anything- or if you're even okay. It's okay to admit if you're not.
I sighed, my head lowering and my heart filling with the emotions of disgust, anger, and mourning.
End of messages.
He didn't have to say it but I knew I was a disappointment to him. I just knew it. First, his only son comes out as a homosexual, ending any father's dream of having his name carried on. Second, after the death of his wife, his track star son loses his ability to compete and doesn't live up to the expectations put upon him. And lastly, his only son runs away from all of his problems, not dealing with anyone of them but instead, moves to Texas, where all the food portions are oversized and the bales of hay on the side of every road is normal.
I wanted to be the son my father always wanted but I knew, I could never be that person. I was a failure and I was going to stay that way.
I slammed my water onto the counter, hating myself for leaving behind my family and hating my body for waiting to shed such pointless tears. Clifford whimpered and lowered his body to the ground. "I'm sorry, buddy. I didn't mean to scare you." I went to sit by his head. "I just- don't know what to do anymore."