Dakota check out of his convenience store job. He waved goodbye to his manager. It was a small store managed by a man in his late fifties. Mr. Rodriguez, the owner, had taken a liking to Dakota. He liked the way the boy handled himself. Dakota was genuine and hardworking. He couldn't ask for a better employee. Mr. Rodriguez knew Dakota had plans. He didn't ask; they were the kind of plans that one had to discover as they played out. The kind of plans no other seventeen-year-old boy made. Dakota wasn't an ordinary seventeen-year-old.
Dakota counted his pay. Exactly two hundred. If he added it to the money he had saved up, that made five thousand five hundred dollars. Dakota thought it was just enough. He didn't know for how long. He didn't know where. He didn't know how. But Dakota was going to go somewhere. His plan lacked dependability, but his life did to. Dakota couldn't live the way he did anymore. The small town had failed him. The people had failed him. His family had failed him.
It was dark outside. Dakota thought it was almost midnight. Last time he looked at the clock it read 10:45. Time slipped from Dakota's fingers. His seventeenth birthday arrived faster than he knew. Dakota remembered the proud look in his father's eyes. He had "accomplished so much for seventeen-year-old boy." Dakota hated his father's words. He wanted to love them so much. He wanted to have his heart swell at the words. He wanted to melt like the daddy's boy he was. But Dakota didn't, because he wasn't that person anymore. Not after everyone had pulled out the floor from beneath him.
Dakota glanced at his wrist. He realized he didn't have his watch anymore. It broke a couple days ago at work. Dakota thought about buying a new one, but he couldn't afford it. If he wanted to leave, he would have to save every last dime he had. Dakota kick a rock as he walked. Not many cars drove by, so he walked on the road. It felt good. If anyone saw him, they could probably tell him to get on the sidewalk, because only crazy, death-seeking people walked on the road. Maybe Dakota wanted to be crazy. Maybe he wanted to be the boy who walked in the middle of the road. Maybe he wanted to break the rules.
Dakota was close to his house. He glanced at the stars. There were always stars. Dakota only wished of when he lived in a big city. People said you never saw stars. Dakota wondered what it felt like. He noticed car light approaching rapidly. The car drove faster than it was supposed to. Suddenly, the car was close. Close enough to hear its engine roar and the heat hit his presence. Dakota's heart leaped. He ran to the curb. Dakota fell to the floor just seconds sparing his life. All Dakota could do was stare at the car. His eyes glimmered. His heart swelled. Butterflies grew in Dakota's stomach. The kind of butterflies formed from pure anticipation. He knew he had a crazy idea. But Dakota was already the boy who walked in the middle of the road.
Dakota ran home. He unlocked the door quietly even though he knew his father would be awake. Dakota found his father stirring awake on the couch. He smiled. Then, he shook his head. Dakota hated his father. But he didn't really. He hated the idea of his father. The entire town was constructed on traditional values and judgmental people. Dakota's father was the only person in the whole town who had senseable ideas. Dakota hated that because he knew he had to leave his father behind.
"Dad, I told you not to wait for me," Dakota said, helping him up from the couch.
"Maybe if you didn't work so late at night."
"You know I have to work as many hours as I can. How else are we going to pay the bills?"
Dakota helped his father into his bedroom. He scowled when he saw Mirtha in the bed. Dakota despised her. His father settled into the bed. Dakota whispered goodnight as he left the room. Mirtha turned in the bed. Dakota bit his tongue. He made sure there was a glass of water at the bedside. Dakota glanced at his father. He walked out.
He locked himself in his room. Dakota pulled out a stash of money from his pillow. He counted it, and then added his pay into the pile. Dakota briefly kissed it and put it back in safety. He laid on his bed. Dakota couldn't sleep. He could only think of the fast car. The memory replayed itself many times. Dakota picked apart every detail. He didn't need to though, because he already knew who the car belonged to. There was only one person in the town who would speed at midnight-- Vincent Malachi.
Dakota knew he was the perfect person to ask. The town always said Vincent would destroy himself. They all patiently waited for the moment he killed himself drunk on his drive home speeding 70 on a 40. Vincent always drank. He was the kind of boy who walked in the middle of the road in broad daylight and wasn't afraid of what people said. Dakota and Vincent were alike. They both knew what if felt like to bear the expectations of the town. Dakota was positive he would say yes.
So the next day after school, Dakota waited by the school parking lot. It wasn't an official parking lot, but everyone knew the high school students parked in that area. Dakota knew Vincent would be there. He waited until he saw Vincent. Vincent was tall, and he had uncombed, pitch black hair. Everyone knew he had a tattoo on his left shoulder. Everyone also knew his parents tried to do everything to bring him back. Everyone knew he was beyond saving.
As Dakota ran up to him, he wondered why Vincent hadn't left already. He had a car. Nothing kept him chained to this town. Everything he wanted could be found anywhere else. Dakota didn't know. The only thing he didn't know about him. No one had secrets. Secrets weren't shared. Dakota knew the only way to keep a secret was to keep it locked up in your own mind.
Vincent was opening the door to his pickup truck. Dakota walked up to him. "Wait, don't leave yet."
When Vincent looked up, Dakota noticed the cigarette dangling from his lips. Vincent slightly parted his lips and glanced at Dakota. "What?"
Dakota suddenly realized he didn't know what to say. "Um, can I ask you a question?"
Vincent frowned. "I'm not selling drugs. God damn."
He pulled his door open. Dakota realized how stupid he sounded. He moved closer to the truck, and he couldn't help looking over it. This was his escape plan. He couldn't let it fail.
"No, that's not it. I just have a plan, but I can't do it by myself. I need your help." Dakota watched Vincent's eyes. "Can we go for a ride?"
Vincent gestured the door with his head. Dakota pulled the passenger door open. Vincent's car was surprisingly clean. It smelled like cigarettes. He noticed some bottles of liquor in the back. Dakota thought his life had taken a turn, because he never once imagined himself in Vincent's car. But Dakota was never a friends person. He just didn't have the time. Dakota had to work and take care of his father. His life didn't have space for friends, and Dakota couldn't remember the last time he spent time outside of school with friends.
Vincent drove fast. Dakota loved it. He cranked down the window and rested his head on his arms on the window's edge. Dakota felt the wind through his hair. He felt free. A part of him wanted to tell Vincent to keep driving until they were out of town. The more reasonable part of him told him his father was at home waiting for him, and he still had a couple more shifts at the store before he was paid again. Dakota watched the town fly by. Vincent drove fast enough to make the town blur. He couldn't make out the houses or who lived in them. It was all meshed together. No one could see him sitting in the passenger seat of Vincent Malachi's car. No one could say anything. It was all a blur.
"I'm guessing this car ride has a purpose, or are you just wasting my gas for fun?"
Dakota laughed. He looked away from the window. "Yeah, the thing is I just don't feel okay in this town anymore. And don't get me wrong it's always going to be my home. I'm always going to have a place in my heart for it. Heck, my mom died here, and I don't think I could let that go. I'm always going to be chained here, but-"
"Not asking for your life story, dude. Just get to the point," Vincent said, holding his smoke.
"Right," Dakota cleared his throat and looked ahead, "I'm leaving the town."
Vincent turned to look at him. Dakota couldn't decoded the look in his eyes. He could tell his interest was hooked. Dakota wasn't surprised. Not many people left the town. Much less a seventeen-year-old. A seventeen-year-old who had such great expectations weighing on his shoulders. Not Dakota who had the town's hopes and dreams on his back.
"I've been planning it for a while. I have some money saved up, but I don't have a car. You don't have to come with me if you don't want to. You don't have to take me far either just across the border and into town. I can pay for your gas if you want. I just really need someone to get me over there. I can't live in this town anymore. I know you might not understand-"
"You love to ramble don't you?" Vincent asked, as he blew out smoke. "Save your breath; I'll go with you."
"What?" Dakota looked at him.
"I'll go with you. This town can go fuck itself."
Dakota grinned. It was finally happening. Something was finally changing. He could finally be who ever he wanted. Dakota loved Vincent for hating the town. He felt like he could have an opinion that wasn't going to be shot down. Dakota could bad mouth the town as much as he wanted, and Vincent would only agree. It was refreshing. Dakota never thought he'd use the word to describe the town druggie, but it was true.
Dakota thought the truth was never really the truth in this town. Everything was built on rumors. Rumors that were always semi-sweet. Dakota knew he had to believe rumors until they were proven wrong. People in this town never gave up until they found what they wanted. Dakota wished they could use it for a different purpose.
When his mother died, it was the talk of the town. As much as Dakota wanted to escape it, he couldn't. Everyone brought it up. Everyone felt sorry for poor little motherless Dakota. No one really did anything about it. Dakota hated it. He hated the pity. He hated the expectations that came with it. He hated the town.
Dakota told Vincent they could meet another time, because he needed to get to work. Vincent told him he could find him at McKenna Park. Dakota wasn't surprised to learn Vincent didn't spend his time at home. He knew his parents probably despised him. Dakota understood why he wanted to leave. Vincent dropped Dakota off at his job.
Dakota watched his truck leave. He couldn't control the growing anticipation. He walked in and noticed Mr. Rodriguez watching him. He waved at Dakota as he came in.
"Hey son, how you doing?"
"Okay, same ol' same ol'," Dakota said, stepping behind the counter to pick up a broom.
"Was that Vincent Malachi's truck?" He asked.
Dakota nodded. He feared something would slip from his lips. Dakota liked Mr. Rodriguez, and he knew the man didn't gossip, but the town always found a way.
"Didn't know you boys were friends. Are you two close?"
Dakota admired his bosses ability to stay neutral. The name Vincent Malachi had a bad connotation around it. It was impossible not to frown at it, but Mr. Rodriguez did it so flawlessly.
"Yeah, I guess a little."
How could they not be close when they were leaving town together? Dakota had to say yes, because in a sense they were close. At least their opinions were closer than any others. Even if Dakota asked one of his friends, they would claim they loved the town. Everyone did. Everyone but Dakota and Vincent. Dakota chuckled at the thought. The thought of the two most opposite people in the town sharing the craziest idea.
Dakota could imagine the talk when he left with Vincent. "The poor boy was influenced by that devil." "Vincent couldn't keep his bad to himself." "Dakota he was such a sweet boy; what did they do to him?"
Little did they know Dakota sought out Vincent. He was the one to prompt it. He had the money, the plan, the motivation. Vincent just happened to be the chosen candidate. Dakota shook his head. The town's toxicity was unbearable. He finished his work with the town on his mind. Dakota said goodbye to his boss, and he walked home. He put his father to sleep and made sure he took his medication. Dakota counted his money and kissed it. Instead of sleeping, he pulled open his window and left.
Dakota walked to Mckenna park. It was near midnight, but he had little doubt Vincent wouldn't be there. He grinned when he spotted his truck parked on the curb. Dakota walked up to the driver's side and knock on the window. He could see Vincent sitting idly. Dakota wondered what it was like to simply sit and be idle for as long as one could hope. Dakota couldn't imagine; he saw a waste of time. So much time he could put to use.
Vincent cranked down the window slowly. Dakota held back a grin. He was mildly intimidated by Vincent. It was really only the fact that he was sure Vincent could beat him in a fight, so he wasn't trying to get on his bad side. Vincent grinned when he saw Dakota.
"Dakota, my man, my boy, my savoir. How you doing?" Vincent leaned his arm on the open window. Dakota caught sight of the vodka bottle in his other arm. He should have known.
"I'm good. Are you?"
"Hell yeah, never been better," Vincent said, taking another sip.
"How often do you drink?" Dakota asked, grimacing.
"Not much. What's it to you?" He frowned as he dunk down the bottle.
"I know; it's none of my business, but don't you think you should have a break once in a while."
"Fuck off, man."
Dakota could help stopping him. He knew what drinking did to people. Dakota grew up keeping his father away from the bottle, so he couldn't stop himself when he saw Vincent. He knew it wasn't his place. He always knew. Addicts never wanted anyone to have a place though. He had to force his own way in. But would it ruin his only chance to leave? Was he willing to risk it all? Dakota didn't have time to think about it before he was ripping the bottle out of his hands. Maybe it was his instinct. Maybe it was the feeling of Deja vu, but Dakota could already see the fire in Vincent's eyes.
Dakota threw the bottle on the floor. It shattered at his feet. Vincent was suddenly upright. His eyes dark. Dakota suddenly remembered how intimidated he was of Vincent. He also remembered how scared of saying anything to his father he was; he remembered what that lead to. He remembered wishing he would have told him to stop before. Dakota wasn't going to watch Vincent relive the life his father did. Dakota wasn't going to be like the rest of the town he hated. He wasn't going to keep the cycle going.
So when Vincent threw his door open, Dakota didn't retaliate. He stood his ground. Vincent growled.
"What the hell is your problem, man?"
"Vincent, you're going to fucking kill yourself if you keep living the way you do!"
"Do you think I give a fuck? Honestly, Dakota do you think I fucking care about where my life goes. This whole fucking town already knows it. I hear everyone say it all the damn time. 'Vincent's going to drink himself to death.' Everyone knows it, so why don't you fuck off like everyone else?"
Dakota suddenly understood him. He was perfect product of the town's toxic nature. Vincent was formed from the raw judgement of the town. Amidst the toxic waste grew the defective flower that was Vincent. Dakota understood it, because he was one too. One of those porcelain flowers corrupted by the toxic soil they grew in.
"Because I'm not everyone else. I can't be. That's why I'm leaving this fucking town, because I can't be like everyone else here. You can't either, Vincent. You don't have to live up to their expectations. You can be whoever you want to." Dakota watch his eyes. Vincent didn't blink. He clenched his fists. His eyes pooled with tears.
Suddenly, Vincent punched Dakota. Dakota held his jaw in pain. Vincent hit him again. Dakota fell to the floor with Vincent on top of him. Dakota didn't know how to fight. He couldn't fight; he only shielded his face from the punches. Dakota mustered up some strength to push Vincent off of him. Vincent fell to the floor and covered his face with his hands. Dakota could hear the quiet cries coming from him. He stood.
"You can prove them all wrong, Vincent. I know you can," Dakota said, as he dusted his pants. He walked away.
Dakota walked back home. He thought he shouldn't have gone to the park, but he didn't regret it. He only regret the way things played out. He wished things would have gone differently. Dakota could only wonder where things stranded with Vincent now. He still needed a car. He wanted Vincent's car. He wanted Vincent. Vincent needed to be the one; no one else could take his place.
Dakota jumped in through his window. He locked it when he came back inside. He quietly walked into the bathroom. Dakota caught his reflection in the mirror. His lip was busted, and he had a bruise on his jaw. He sighed. How was he supposed to explain this? He couldn't tell the truth. Vincent had a bad reputation enough as it is. Dakota didn't want the town to think Vincent was a bad person for him; he wanted to make his own judgements. He thought about a few excuses before he left the bathroom.
Dakota didn't sleep until late. He never slept lately. All he could do was think. His mind overflowed with emotions. Dakota had about a week before he would leave. He waited until his next payday. Then, he would leave. Dakota only hoped things were fixed by then.
In the morning, Dakota tiptoed out of his bedroom. He always left early, because the morning was the only small time frame that Dakota had a chance of seeing his dad's girlfriend, Mirtha. Today he wasn't so lucky. He left his room exactly as the bathroom door opened. Mirtha stood on the other side scowling. Her eyes scanned over his face.
"You sneaked out of the house last night. And you didn't even bother to win the lousy ass fight you got in. Leave before you disappoint your father even more than you already have," She said as she walked away.
Dakota clenched his fists. She had no right to say anything. She did nothing to contribute in this household. She had no loyalty to her father. Mirtha was no more than a loose string they dragged along. Dakota didn't understand why her father went through so much to keep her around. They first met when his father was drinking heavily. She was there to tell him to stop. She wasn't there why he finally agreed. Dakota thought his father was truly in love with her. Dakota didn't know why, because she slept with other men, she smoked in the house, she didn't have a job, and she didn't help around the house. His father loved her still. Mirtha didn't.
Dakota walked away. He wanted to say 'you should have seen the other guy,' but he knew there was nothing to see. Dakota just wanted to prove her wrong for once. What was a little white lie, when it was for the better anyway? He left the house after he grabbed his backpack. Dakota didn't eat breakfast, but he didn't think he had the stomach to eat it anyway. He walked to school.
Dakota saw Vincent walking into the school. He ran up to him. Dakota hesitated before tapping his shoulder. Vincent turned around. He had eye bags under his eyes, and Dakota felt bad. He knew he shouldn't have, but he did. Vincent looked over Dakota's face. Dakota watched his eyes flash with emotion before the latter blinked it away.
"Vincent, are you okay?"
"I'm fine," he said, shaking his head. Vincent began to walk away.
"No you're not. Tell me the truth," Dakota said, catchting up to him.
"I'm fine, Dakota. Now, leave me alone."
"I'm sorry for making you upset yesterday. It's just-" The bell cut his off.
Vincent walked away. Dakota sighed. He wondered if this was how people felt when they talked to him. Dakota went to class. He dreaded the test he had to take in his math class. Dakota didn't study last night; he rarely did. There simply wasn't enough time, but on important occasions Dakota stayed up even after work. He rarely found it necessary to study though. School came fairly easy to him. Paying attention in class was often enough for him. Dakota's grades weren't exceptional. Simply enough to make it through. He didn't worry about it anyway. No one expected Dakota to go to college. They expected him to work full time the moment he graduated, because he had a sick father at home to take care of.
Dakota wasn't sure if he wanted to go to college. He didn't have any kind of big hopes and dreams for his future. Every since his fifteenth birthday, Dakota was sure he was going to leave town. He hadn't hoped for anything else since. Dakota wasn't even sure what he would do when he got out of town. The only thing he knew was that he would need a job. Dakota only thought about the free afternoons, the late mornings, and most of all doing whatever he pleased. He dreamed of walking down the street at whatever hour he wanted and no one to care. Dakota knew it was so close.
After school, Dakota waited by Vincent's car. He arrived before the other boy did, so he waited. Dakota thought of what he was going to say. He had to make things right. He needed to make things right. When Dakota spotted Vincent, the latter had already seen him. They met eyes as Vincent made his way to his car. Dakota stood in front of the driver's side.
"Move," Vincent said.
"No."
Vincent reached for Dakota's arm. Dakota didn't want to be hurt. He still had the bruised and busted lip. It was enough that he got strange looks from everyone at school. He already heard the rumors going around about how he was hurt. Dakota tried to keep the story straight by saying he fell while running. No one believed him. Not even his father, but he didn't ask. Dakota simply told him.
Dakota held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, I'll move, but we're still leaving, right?"
Vincent was quiet. He seemed to be thinking. Dakota felt his opportunity slipping from his hands.
"You want to leave town, right? I know you can't bear to stay here any longer than I can. I have the money. We leave next week. What do you say?"
"I'll go."
Dakota grinned.
"But pull another stunt like you did yesterday, and the deal's off," Vincent said, before pulling his door open.
Dakota nodded. "Can we take a ride?"
Vincent rolled his eyes, and let him on. Dakota couldn't hold back his smile. He was just smiley person. He could tell Vincent wasn't. In fact, Vincent was borderline upset at how much Dakota smiled. He didn't mention anything. They drove for a while, and Dakota looked out the window the whole time. Vincent smoked, and Dakota was slightly bothered, but he decided not to bring it up.
Eventually, Dakota decided he should know a thing of two about the person he was going to leave town with. He wasn't sure what he should say. As far as he knew, they had nothing in common. Dakota thought about possibly the only thing they had in common.
"Why do you want to leave?" Dakota asked.
"You already know. You said it yourself; it's the same reason you do."
"I mean really though. What made you?"
Vincent blew out smoke. He stared at the road. "I guess it was just everything. Everything about my house and my parents. I grew up in a very devoted Christian household. My parents wanted me to believe, but when I first realized who God was and what people did for him, I was confused. I didn't know if questioning my beliefs was wrong, but I came to the conclusion that there's nothing to believe in not when God is so unresponsive to me. Once I begged for God's love and help, and now I wish I didn't. I felt stupid. I felt stupid for sitting there and praying to an imaginary character that was somehow supposed to provide all my comfort. I realized it was just an excuse, you know. An excuse for not getting the things I wanted. I'm the only one who chooses how my life goes. When my parents found out I thought that way, they were upset. Very upset. They said the devil got to me," He laughed, "I might have told them to fuck off. Then, things changed."
"Things changed?" Dakota asked.
"Yeah, I guess I might have not made the best fucking decisions after that, but I was upset. I felt like..."
"Like what?"
"Like punching you're fucking face again. Damn, Dakota how nosy are you?"
"I was just helping the thought flow," He said, holding back a laugh.
"Fuck you, man." Vincent laughed. Dakota watched. He wondered who was the last person that made him laugh.
A couple days went by, and Dakota spent them the same way he had spent every other day of his life. He attended school and went to work right after. Dakota came home around twelve and placed his father in bed. He counted his money, and kissed it. The only difference was that he didn't walk anywhere anymore. Vincent drove him to school and then to work. Dakota hadn't seen him drunk since the last time, and he didn't want to. He feared he couldn't control his emotions. It hurt Dakota to see Vincent ruin his life. He wished he could do something about it, but he couldn't.
It helped that Dakota was excited. He couldn't stop thinking about leaving town. He wanted to tell everyone. He wanted to tell the few friends he had at school, he wanted to tell Mr. Rodriguez, and he wanted to tell Mirtha. Dakota wanted to see the look on her face when found out. He wanted to flip her out and cuss at her before he left. Dakota couldn't.
Dakota came home one night after work. He helped his father to bed, but when he went to his room, Mirtha was nowhere in sight. Dakota was relieved, but worried as well. If she was gone, it meant she was up to something. Dakota watched as his father scanned the room for her. He wondered if his father knew what she spent her free time doing. He wondered if he cared. His father didn't bring it up. Dakota didn't either; he didn't have the guts to.
Although he hated Mirtha, he loved seeing his father happy. Dakota would bear with Mirtha if it meant keeping a smile on his father's lips. He didn't want to be the one to tell his father that she was a tramp. Dakota was astonished that he didn't know. The whole town knew, and they didn't live with her.
When Dakota went to his room, he jumped on his bed and pulled the pillow close to him. Dakota reached inside, but he felt nothing. His heart stopped. Dakota jumped from the bed, and pulled out the pillow from it's cover. He rapidly felt around the pillow. He pulled out the stuffing from the hole he had made. Nothing was inside. Dakota threw the pillow across the room. He pulled at his hair and shut his eyes. Dakota mumbled curses. He kicked his bed.
"Fuck you, Mirtha!"
Dakota knew she did it. Mirtha was gone tonight, because she was spending his money somewhere. No one knew where it was at. He didn't know how she found it. Mirtha must have known; it was so obvious. He constantly worked, and he only used about half of his paycheck to pay the rent and for food. She must have figured it out. It was his money. He worked for years to save it up. He was going to leave with it. It was his future, and now it was all gone.
Dakota threw his window open. He jumped out. Dakota walked to the park. He saw Vincent's car parked in the same place as before. Dakota wished he would be sober, but he knew that probably wasn't the case. He saw Vincent sitting in the back of his truck. He was staring at the sky, and he had a bottle in his hand. Dakota ran his hand through his hair. Vincent saw him and smiled. Dakota frowned.
"The plan's off," Dakota said as he jumped on the back of his truck.
Vincent's smile disappeared. "What do you mean the plan's off?"
"I mean the plan's off. My dad's fucking girlfriend stole all the money I have saved up. She stole it all. Everything's gone." Dakota looked at the sky, because he didn't want to meet Vincent's eyes.
Vincent was quiet. "Are you sure it was her?"
"Yes, I'm fucking sure. She's always trying to make my life hell, and now she finally did it. She fucking did it. Everything I planned is gone. I'm going to have to stay in this shit town forever. Why is life so cruel, Vincent?" His voice cracked. "I've only ever wanted one thing in my life-- to leave this town. I just can't have it. I can't. I was so close. What's the point of being a good kid if everything's going to blow up in your face?"
Dakota felt his eyes pool with tears. He quickly wiped away his tears. "I just want to leave, Vincent. I can't stand the people in this town. Nothing's ever going to change here. I'm going to die in this same fucking town. The people are going to laugh as it happens."
Dakota cried into his fists. He's never been so upset in his life. His shoulders shook. Dakota's head hurt from all the crying. He clenched his fists do tight his nails dug into his skin. Everything had gone wrong. Nothing ever went right for him.
Vincent placed his hand on Dakota's shoulder. He gently squeezed it. Vincent understood the pain. He wanted to say everything would be okay, but he couldn't. Vincent knew what it was like. He knew what if felt like for everything to go so wrong that it felt like there was no light at the end.
Suddenly, Vincent thought of something.
"Dakota," He grabbed both of his hands and pulled them away from his face, "how much money did you say you had?"
"Five thousand dollars."
"There's no way she spent it all in one night."
Dakota wiped his face with his free hand. "What?"
"We're going to steal it back," Vincent said.
Dakota shook his head. "No, if my dad finds out he'll hate Mirtha."
"He doesn't have to find out. We can sneak in at night while they're asleep."
Dakota's eyes widened. He watched as Vincent's glimmered. He realized he was serious. Dakota was worried, and he thought it was crazy. Dakota wanted his money back. So he nodded his head and mumbled in agreement. They were quiet but they didn't move. Vincent sat close to him as his free hand held onto his beer bottle. Dakota realized Vincent wasn't drunk.
"How much did you drink?"
"Not much. I've only taken a few sips from this bottle."
Dakota smiled. "Let me help you then."
Dakota pulled his hand away from Vincent's and grabbed the bottle. He took a gulp of it. Vincent laughed and drank from the bottle.
When the next day came by, Dakota couldn't believe he let Vincent convince him to rob his own house. He was really going to do it. Dakota knew he had to, because it was the only way to get the one thing he desired most. He was going to do it, so that day after work Vincent picked him up and they drove to his house. Vincent was sober, thankfully. The more Dakota spent time with Vincent the more he was convinced Vincent really did have control over his alcohol problem. They went over the plan, and Vincent formulated most of it. Dakota simply followed the instructions. He was really surprised when Vincent handed his mask. It was hand cut.
"What is this?"
"A mask, so we can hide out identities," Vincent said, as he parked a few houses away from Dakota's.
"We're not going to use these. Are you crazy? We're not going to scare the hell out of them."
"But if they see us?"
"Then I'll make up an excuse; it's my house." Dakota frowned. "Why do you have these?"
"None of your fucking business," Vincent said, as he shoved them back in the glove compartment.
Dakota let it go. He stepped out of the car. Dakota was going to help his father to bed. Then, he agreed to meet up with Vincent outside his window. Vincent would park away from the house, because everyone knew what his car looked like and anyone could connect the dots if something went wrong.
Dakota stepped inside his house. His father sleep on the couch. Dakota sighed before he woke him. His father leaned on his as they made their way to his room. Dakota made sure his father took his medication. Mirtha was in bed sleeping as if she did nothing at all. He was glad she was asleep, for Dakota feared he would do something reckless if she weren't. He scanned the room for any possible hiding places before leaving.
Dakota went into his room. He wanted to check his pillow, but he remembered nothing would be there. Dakota opened his window. He jumped out and looked around for Vincent. He was nowhere. Dakota waited for a couple more minutes before he saw Vincent approaching.
"Took you long enough," Dakota said as he climbed in through his window.
"I didn't know how long you would take," Vincent said, following him.
Vincent looked around Dakota's room. There was stuffing all over the floor. Dakota hadn't gotten around to cleaning it up. Vincent picked up the mangled pillow.
"You kept it in here?" He raised an eyebrow. Dakota nodded. "No wonder she found it."
"I thought it was clever."
Dakota lead him to his father's room. He knew the money was in there. There was no other place Mirtha could have put it. Dakota held onto the hope that some of his money still remained. He slowly turned the knob and opened the door. Dakota placed his index finger to his lips as he looked at Vincent. Vincent nodded. They began to look around as quietly as possible.
Dakota looked through their closet and every single drawer in the room. He found nothing. Vincent looked through more obscure places like the vent and inside her socks. Nothing. Dakota had a difficult time not destroying everything. He wanted to yell at Mirtha, but he remembered the room belonged to his father too. They searched for a while and they found nothing.
Dakota began to think she really did spend it all. He was about to tell Vincent they should leave when he saw the latter holding an important object.
"Those are my mother's ashes," Dakota said, walking over to him.
Vincent ignored him and opened it. Dakota quickly grabbed the vase, but Vincent already had his hand in it. Dakota growled. Vincent couldn't just stick his hand in his mother's ashes. Dakota was going to punch him, but Vincent's eyes widened. Dakota stopped. There was no way. Vincent pulled out the wad of cash. Dakota's mouth fell open.
"That fucking bitch. She put the money in my mother's ashes!" Dakota said.
His father shited in the bed. Dakota quickly set the vase back where it was and pushed Vincent out of the room. They went back to Dakota's room. Dakota ripped the money out of Vincent's hands. Vincent grinned at his eagerness. Dakota counted the money and fell on his bed. Vincent followed. He didn't say anything for moment. He watched Dakota's expression.
"How much is left?" He asked quietly.
"Four thousand dollars."
They were quiet. Vincent didn't want to say anything. He knew Dakota needed to think. He needed to plan. Vincent looked around his room. It was disorganized; it reflected Dakota's life. A mess. Vincent thought Dakota would never admit to it, but it was true. He knew it, and everyone in the town knew it. Dakota was a mess. He couldn't handle his own life while he tried to handle his father's. Vincent watched as Dakota clenched his fists.
"Come with me," Dakota said as he left the room. Vincent followed.
They walked into the kitchen. Dakota grabbed a cookie jar off the counter. Vincent was confused. They stepped out of the house. Dakota slammed the door. He didn't care if anyone woke up anymore. Dakota, with the jar in his hands, made his way across the street.
"Dakota, what are you doing?"
He ignored him. Vincent became frustrated. He knew Dakota was upset, but it was no excuse to act rash. Dakota stepped into an empty ally. Vincent hesitated.
"Where the fuck are you going? And what's in that jar?"
Dakota stopped walked. He turned to Vincent and pulled off the lid of the jar. Vincent's eyes widened and he grinned.
"Oh, shit. I didn't know you smoked-" Vincent reached for the weed. Dakota closed the jar.
"It's not mine. It's Mirtha's. And I'm going to fucking throw it out."
"That's a waste of good weed though."
Dakota ignored him. Vincent was about to stop him when Dakota threw the jar against the wall. It shattered. The jar fell apart into pieces and Dakota stood still. Then, he stomped and kicked the contents. Dakota punched the wall and kicked the glass. He hated it. He hated Mirtha.
"That fucking bitch! She disrespected my mom like that! Fucking go to hell! This stupid weed is all she fucking cares about!" Dakota yelled.
He punched the wall. His knuckles bled and his bones ached. He kept hitting the wall. Dakota couldn't do anything about it. He just had to wait. He couldn't do anything to Mirtha. He couldn't do anything about his mom. He couldn't do anything about the money. Tears fell from his eyes. He wanted Mirtha to experience pain, but she couldn't. She just couldn't, because she didn't care about anyone. Mirtha was just a soulless bitch.
Dakota cried. Tears didn't stop falling from his eyes. He cried and cried. He couldn't stop. His hands were too weak to continue punching the wall. He fell to his knees. Dakota clenched his fists and cried into them.
Vincent stepped next to Dakota and helped him to his feet. Dakota shook. He cried like the town wasn't going to notice. Dakota couldn't hold it in anymore. He couldn't ignore that the town would notice him and Vincent Malachi standing in a dark alley with drugs at their feet. He couldn't ignore that they would talk. He couldn't ignore that he, a man, cried.
But when Vincent enveloped him and shielded him away, he forgot. Dakota forgot what it felt like to take care of his father. He forgot what it felt like to work all the time. He forgot what it felt like to feel hated. He forgot what it felt like to need to run away. He simply remembered. Dakota remembered that Vincent and him were alike. They were both porcelain flowers amidst the toxic waste. Dakota remembered they had to stay together.
Dakota didn't go home that night. The truth was that he felt like nothing awaited for him in that house. Dakota had his money on him and really that was the only thing he needed now. He knew, in the back of his head, that his father would be worried and his mother would be alone. Dakota for the first time in a long time didn't care. He didn't want to care either. He simply wanted to live.
Dakota slept in Vincent's truck like the latter did most days. Dakota learned that Vincent rarely went home. It didn't surprise him. Vincent's parents didn't care for him. They would rather he lived out on the street than in their home simply because of the mistakes he had made. Dakota thought God believed in redemption; he wasn't so sure anymore.
The original plan continued. There was one day until they left. Dakota needed to tell everyone. He contemplated leaving without telling a soul, but he couldn't. Dakota needed to tell the town. All he had to do was tell a single passing neighbor. But they had to know. They had to know that their toxic soil would eventually corrupt someone. They had to know their children grew from toxic waste; they had to change.
So that day at school Dakota mentioned it to his few friends. They were never close, but it didn't matter anymore. He had to tell someone. As they passed classes, Dakota walked next to his friends. They joked around and laughed. Dakota smiled along. He decided to just let it go.
"I'm leaving," He said. They looked at him confused.
"Leaving where?"
"Leaving town."
They were quiet. One of them stopped walking. They stared at Dakota. Dakota the boy who had to take care of his father. Dakota the boy who had every single step of his future laid out. Leaving town not being one of them.
"Why?"
Dakota could see the grimace on their lips, and the vile taste on their lips. "What do you mean why? This town is horrible. I can't stand it anymore."
"Dude, you're insane. It's great here."
Dakota furrowed his eyebrows. "What town are you guys living in? Cause the one I see isn't great at all. Don't you see all the shit people talk, and all the gossip behind our backs."
"It's not that bad. Just deal with it like everyone else. You're such a fucking snowflake, Dakota."
They walked away. Dakota watched them. He couldn't believe it. Dakota couldn't believe he spent all that time with those people. Those people who didn't care at all. They were just like the rest of the town. Dakota began to think he was insane. He couldn't believe he was the only person in the whole town who thought something was wrong. Something was so obviously wrong; how could no one notice? How could no one notice they slowly broke him down? How could no one notice they left traces of toxic waste in his friends' heads?
Vincent pushed Dakota's shoulder. Dakota blinked out of his thought. He looked up at Vincent. Vincent shook his head and kept walking.
"You're going to be late for class. The bell rang like five minutes ago," Vincent said.
Dakota's eyes widened. He ran to his next class. Dakota remembered he was leaving tomorrow, and he wasn't going to finish school anyway. He thought about it for a while. Maybe he would finish at least high school wherever he was going. If Dakota had planned better, he could have left when he finished school. But that was months away. Dakota didn't think he could wait that long.
Dakota sat with Vincent at lunch. He wasn't surprised to learn that Vincent didn't have friends. The only friends he had were his whiskey bottles. Vincent and Dakota sat in his truck during lunch. Dakota tried to figure out why Vincent still came to school. He couldn't understand Vincent. He went out and drank out of his mind then he did things like come to school. Vincent didn't have anyone to tell him to. He did it all on his own. Dakota didn't know why. Vincent had so much freedom. He could do whatever he wanted. He didn't have anyone at home waiting for him; he could live. Dakota didn't know why he hadn't left town yet.
He was afraid to ask. Dakota feared he would offend Vincent. He remembered what happened last time. Dakota glanced at Vincent. The latter stared out of the window. He turned to Dakota. Dakota looked away.
"If you're going to say something, just say it." Vincent said.
"How come you still come to school?" Dakota asked. Vincent frowned and looked away again. "You told me to say it."
"Because everyone expects me not to." Vincent looked at Dakota. The latter gave him a nod. "I want to finish high school if its the only thing I do. I want people to say 'wow, Vincent Malachi did one good thing in his pathetic life.' It's stupid, I know, but I don't want to be the person they say I am."
"It's not stupid. It's not stupid, Vincent. I get it. You want to prove them wrong," Dakota said, barely above a whisper.
"I do, and I wish I didn't."
"Don't worry. I'll make you we finish school wherever we end up."
They were quiet for a while. Dakota enjoyed it. He knew he could be left to his thoughts, and it wouldn't be awkward.
"What are you going to tell your father?" Vincent asked.
Vincent knew Dakota care for his father. More than any other teenage boy did. Vincent couldn't imagine it though, because he didn't care about his father. He couldn't sympathize. Vincent wouldn't miss anyone when he left. The only person he cared about was coming with him.
"I don't know," Dakota said. The bell rang, and they left for class.
He'd been planning it for such a long time, anyone would think he had a heartwarming speech prepared. But he didn't. Dakota didn't want to have a heartwarming speech. He wanted to keep his father, but he couldn't. Dakota had to leave.
So when he came home after work and Vincent dropped him off at his doorstep, Dakota waited before stepping inside. He had to tell his father. All he could do was hope his father would understand. Dakota pulled out his keys, but he didn't open the door. He wanted to prepare something. He wanted his father to thing he cared. Suddenly, the door was pulled open.
Dakota stared at his father. "Dad, I was just coming in."
"You've been standing out here for five minutes," His father said, pushing the boy inside.
Dakota sat on the couch. His father eyed him. It was a change from the usual.
"Was that Vincent Malachi who dropped you off?"
Dakota sighed. "You saw that? Yeah, it was him."
His father sat next to him. Dakota knew he was going to ask more questions. The questions were going to have answers, and Dakota couldn't lie, so he just said it.
"I'm leaving town, dad." Dakota didn't look at his father.
His father watched him. "When?"
"Tomorrow."
"Oh, Dakota-"
"I'm sorry, I didn't tell you before, but I couldn't bring myself to say anything. I have to leave, dad. I have to. This town is making me go insane. I can't live here not like this. Not when everyone outside knows your dying, yet they leave the poor fifteen-year-old boy to take care of you. Not when they all expect me to live my life working for someone who isn't me. Not when they have my whole life planned out and they didn't even bother to ask me. I'm leaving, dad. I'm sorry. I don't hate you, dad. I don't. I just hate that I have to leave you behind."
Dakota wiped away his teary eyes. His father pulled the boy into his arms.
"It's okay, Dakota. I love you, and I understand. You have to live. And not for me. I know this town's a little hard, son. I grew up in it too."
They were quiet. Dakota stayed in his father's arms, and he cried like the boy he wished he was. His father remembered the feeling of his son in his arms.
"Who's going to take care of you, dad?"
"I am," He said.
"You don't have any money, and you can't work. Fucking Mirtha isn't going to do anything either," Dakota said."
"I kicked out Mirtha. And I have some-"
"Wait, what? You kicked out Mirtha?"
"Son, the whole town already knows. Keep up."
"What happened? I thought you loved her?" Dakota asked.
"I did, but she woke up the other day and started screaming about her weed. Then, she said it was you. She was hysterical. Mirtha kicked and screamed, and she yelled about what happened. Everything that happened; the money she stole and placed in your mother's ashes. I decided I didn't want her in either of our lives anymore."
"You really kicked her out?" Dakota couldn't believe it.
"Yes, and I have something you probably want," His dad said, reaching for his wallet. He pulled out a small piece of paper. It looked like a bank receipt. He handed it to Dakota. Dakota read it over. His eyes widened.
"Holy shit, dad. Where did you get all this money?"
"I bought savings bonds for your college when I was younger. I guess you probably need it now."
"No, no." Dakota pushed the paper back into his father's hands, "I can't take this. You have to keep it, dad. So you can take care of yourself."
"I can't Dakota it's your money. Your mom and I bought it for you."
Dakota shook his head. "Dad, please. I'm giving it to you. I'm sure mom would understand. I can get a job when I move, and besides it won't just be me-"
Dakota stopped himself. He realized his father didn't know about Vincent yet. His father laughed.
"Make sure that Malachi boy takes care of himself. Don't let him fall down the same hole I did."
Dakota only nodded. He would take care of him. Dakota had to take care of people; it's what he did. He had seen where his father landed after his journey with alcohol. Dakota wasn't going to let Vincent go there.
"Sleep, Dakota. You have much to travel."
"Are you really okay with this, dad?" Dakota asked. He watched his father's eyes as emotion flicked through them. Dakota couldn't tell what it was, but he wanted to. He realized he couldn't anymore. His father would be gone as of tomorrow. Nothing but a childhood memory.
"Yes, son. Parents have to let their children go; no matter how much it hurts."
Dakota gave him a sad smile. His father returned a real one. Dakota felt his lips turn wider. He was okay. Dad was okay. The town would be okay. Dakota would leave his father today, but his father would never leave him.
Dakota slept. He slept like he had never before, because Mirtha wasn't in the other room. And because he left the town tomorrow. And because a bundle of butterflies settled in his stomach. And because he wasn't doing it alone.
Dakota never thought his brash childhood dream to leave town was ever going to come true. He thought it was one of those dreams that one forgot about as they grew old, but that didn't happen. As Dakota grew older, he worked harder to complete his dream. He was so close it wasn't a dream anymore. It was a reality. Dakota realized his life was changing. It was never going back, and that frightened him. He was never one for change, but this change felt right. It was exhilarating.
In the morning, Dakota woke up at five. He couldn't sleep anymore, and he had to leave. Dakota had told Vincent to meet at his place at five. He wasn't sure if would actually be there that early. So Dakota took the time to finish up his packing. He had everything he needed. Everything he cared about. The rest he could live without. There was a car honk outside. Dakota knew it was Vincent. He recognized the sound.
Dakota ran to the living room with his bag on his shoulder. He saw his father standing in the kitchen with three cups of coffee. Dakota never saw his father prepare anything in the kitchen. He felt tears swell in his eyes, because he would never see his dad do it again.
"I figured you guys could spare a few minutes for coffee," His dad said.
Dakota nodded. He set his bag by the door and went outside to get Vincent. Vincent grinned when he saw Dakota. He had his window rolled down and his arm hung outside the car.
"You ready to leave yet, North," Vincent said.
"Don't call me North, and come inside for some coffee."
"Whatever you say, North Dakota."
Dakota regretted giving Vincent his last name. It was bad; he already knew. Dakota just didn't know how Vincent didn't already know. Every single kid in grade school knew about Dakota North. It was unfortunate.
They went inside. Vincent followed Dakota inside. He met eyes with Dakota's father. He looked exactly the same as his son. They were identical. Vincent could see it in their eyes. They both held the same look of brilliant desire for curiosity. They weren't anyone else's eyes. They were theirs.
Dakota gestured his father and Vincent to sit. He introduced them. Vincent was nice and polite. His father and Vincent made small talk. Dakota listened and enjoyed it. He tried to savor every moment he spent with his father, because he regretted not doing it before. They all finished their coffee a long time ago, but no one stood up. Dakota simply looked at his father. He wanted to remember every single bit of it. Dakota always knew he would have to say goodbye to his father, but he never thought it would be this soon.
Eventually, his father stood. Dakota naturally jumped to his feet to help him. His father shook his head and made his way to his room. Dakota slowly sat back down. It felt strange to be rejected by his father, but he accepted it nonetheless. Vincent gave him a smile.
"Are you upset about leaving your dad behind?" Vincent asked.
"Yes, but I've spent my whole life being selfless, and I think just this once I want to be selfish. I want to choose for me not for someone else," Dakota said, as he stared at his empty mug.
It took a long time for Dakota to realize what he wanted, and most importantly that he could have it, and he didn't have to sacrifice it for someone. Dakota was making his own choice this time, and no one was going to change his mind. Dakota had the right to choose what made him happy. He had the right to lead his own life. He was going to do it.
His father came back from the room with a vase in his arms. His mother's ashes. Dakota shook his head. His father pushed the ashes into his son's arms. Dakota handed it back.
"Take your mother with you, Dakota. She'll protect you," His father said.
"No, dad. She has to stay here with you. She'll keep you company. Besides, I don't need to be protected; I can take care of myself, dad," Dakota said as he placed the ashes in his father's arms.
Dakota's father set the vase down on the counter. He gestured Vincent to come over. The boy complied. Dakota's father placed his hand on Vincent's shoulder.
"Promise you'll take care of my boy, Vincent."
"I promise. You don't have to worry about him," Vincent said, looking at Dakota's father.
"Come here," Mr. North pulled both boys into his arms, "take care of yourselves. And don't forget why you left. And live. Live, boys. Live the life you want to."
They hugged for a moment more before they let go. Mr. North said goodbye to them. Dakota picked up his bags and said goodbye to his mother. Vincent and Dakota stepped out. Mr. North at the door. Dakota set his bag in the back of Vincent's truck. He looked back at his father. Dakota was never going to see him again. He realized, in that moment, that he forgot to tell his father he loved him and he appreciated everything. All the long nights he spent working for his family, all the times he broke himself in effort to give up alcohol, all the times he was there when no one else was. So Dakota ran back to his father and he hugged him. Dakota mumbled "I love you." He blinked away tears. Not because he couldn't cry, but because he didn't want the memory to be sad. So Dakota smiled, and his father said "You know the house phone number."
Dakota laughed and walked back to the car. He jumped into the passenger seat. Vincent grinned at him, and it was so refreshing. As they drove away, Dakota waved goodbye to his father. Dakota couldn't keep the smile off his face.
"We have one more stop to make before we leave," Dakota said.
They drove to Dakota's work. It was early in the morning, but Dakota knew Mr. Rodriguez would be there. He quickly jumped out of the car and walked into the store. Mr. Rodriguez swept the floor near the back. He looked up in surprise.
"Dakota, you know I told you to take the day off. What you doing here?"
"Actually, I came for my paycheck," He said quietly.
"Oh, yes. Of course, let me get that for you." He went behind the counter.
Dakota cleared his throat. "Also, I've leaving town today."
"Are you?" He asked without looking up.
"Yeah, uh, Vincent's outside waiting for me."
"Well, in that case, I guess it's time for me to give this to you," He said as he handed Dakota a box with his check on top.
Dakota curiously opened the box. A new watch laid inside. He looked up at Mr. Rodriguez.
"I noticed you broke yours a while ago during work, so I figured you could use a new one. Also, my daughter is studying to become a nurse, and I'm sure she wouldn't mind swinging by to check on your old man."
Dakota's eyes widened. "Thank you so much, Mr. Rodriguez. I meant it; this means a lot to me."
Dakota hugged the man. He waved goodbye and went to the car. He met eyes with Vincent and gave him a nod.
Vincent threw the keys at Dakota. Dakota furrowed his eyebrows and looked up at him.
"You're letting me drive?" Dakota asked.
"Yes, now hurry before I change my mind," Vincent said.
Dakota threw the keys back at Vincent. The latter raised an eyebrow, and Dakota shrugged in response.
"I don't want to drive anyway," Dakota got in the passenger seat, "If you're driving, that means you have to stay sober."
Vincent shook his head, and started the car. "I'm not going to get a break, am I?"
Dakota shook his head and laughed.
Vincent drove. He drove past the entire town. Dakota watch it pass by through the window. He couldn't see them, but he knew they saw him. Dakota knew what they all thought. Those boys were going to hell. They gave up on everyone. They were cowards and pussies. Dakota didn't care, because he was leaving and he'd never have to think about this town again. Vincent drove. He drove past the town line. Dakota watched it go. He was officially out. As of now, he wasn't worthless. As of now, he wasn't chained down. As of now, he wasn't just another defective part of this toxic town. He could grow as he chose.
Dakota watched the sun rise. Plain land surrounded them. It was nothing but an empty road ahead of them. Vincent put on music, and he played it loud. Dakota rolled down his window. He felt free. Dakota screamed through the window. He felt alive. Dakota laughed until he couldn't. He felt happy. Vincent laughed along with him, and it was fantastic. They felt as if they could finally breathe.
Everything was going to be okay. Dakota was going to help Vincent, and he wasn't going to drink as he drove, so it was already a start. They were going to do it together. Dakota was going to live. He was going to live for his father as a promise. Vincent was going to be okay. He was going to take care of Dakota as a promise. He was finally free, and it felt fucking fantastic. They would live together, because friends take care of each other. Both porcelain flowers amidst the chaos.
"I'm so fucking glad you had a fast car."