fixader

Here’s a short story I wrote that quite a few people I showed it to enjoyed, I hope you will enjoy it as well and that it will meet you where you are. Also, I am considering making an audio drama rendition of this story in the podcast section of this blog! If you like this idea and want to hear an audio drama version, please let me know in the comment section at the end of this post! Enjoy.

The Saint & the Sinner

Eric sat on the bus, prepared for his first day of college. What he wasn’t prepared for was who he would find on the bus: Nick, the man he had hated when they were just boys. He stepped onto the bus and started walking down the aisle towards him. Hate rose up in Eric’s veins as he saw Nick approaching. His mind travelled back to their childhood, it had been ten years since they last spoke to each other.

*****

Ten Years ago…

The neck tie constricted Eric’s throat until he could no longer breathe. He aimlessly tried to take it off; it was a failed attempt because his mother quickly tightened it up again.

Ah mother, always wanting to help, of course he knew this, but breath is breath. He still needed this noose off his neck. Why is it that what she tells him is the “right” or “proper” thing to do, always hurt so much? Or maybe he was just overreacting too much? He couldn’t really tell, he didn’t altogether care much either; thoughts like these were unimportant to his seven year old mind.

His mind was more focused on the boy, who was on the other side of the foyer at this point. Eric had seen him before, he had seen everyone in this church before, that’s the way it was at his church, you know everyone’s face, but you didn’t always know who they were. This boy, in particular, intrigued him however. Something about this boy’s wild curly brown hair fascinated him; the wild energetic smile that went from

one of the boy’s ears to the other, had gained an unbroken stare from Eric. There was no denying it, there was something unusually wild about this boy. Eric was a quiet boy, but something about the wildness in the curly haired boy’s eyes, drew Eric to him like a fly to garbage. Maybe it was a hidden rebellious streak that Eric had? Whatever it was about the boy that made this enigma, Eric’s gaze was glued to him.

The boy wasn’t alone, he never was. Every time he had seen this boy, he was always with his mother. Not that this wild child appeared to need his mother’s help, more or less it seemed as though she needed to know he was safe, or at least that is the way Eric perceived it.

What was this? his mind snapped into reality as the scene became a little closer to home; mother had gone over to talk to this boy’s mother. Eric had never seen these two mothers “chew the fat” before (as father so unusually put it), but then again mother did like to talk; it seemed as though every time he turned his head: there was mother talking to someone new. Before he could fully process what was happening, his

mother had returned to where he stood, along with the wild child and his mother. Apparently the child’s mother had invited Eric’s mother over for coffee.

Coffee? What was adults fascination with the stuff? Coffee reminded him very much of oil spills, like the ones he saw under the cars in his father’s garage.

*****

Eric was in awe of this strange home they had entered; the wild child’s house

was very different from Eric’s home. His father had wisely purchased an old cottage, and had been slowly but surely renovating it into quite a nice home. Eric smiled on the inside when he thought about the way his father’s eyes lit up when he talked about the way their house would be when it was finished: “Over here we’ll put the fire place, and not one of those cracker jack phoney plastic one’s mind you: a real hearty stone oven!” He loved it when his Dad rambled on about his dreams; his father was alive. He was not like the other men who worked 60 hours a week, and went to the golf course, so as to avoid their families on their days off. No, his father was different: he was more than alive in a world of the walking dead.

Dead or alive however: this house that he now found himself in was definitely a finished house. Unlike Eric’s lived-in construction site of a home: this house didn’t seem to have any heart. Eric’s home seemed to have the families dreams infused into its very walls. Every time he touched the plaster on the fresh dry-wall at home, he felt an

unseen warmth emanate from it, and then through his body, until it would fully embrace his soul. This house was not a home. Eric felt much more like he had walked into some medical office building, not a home.

“Do you want to play?” The wild child’s inquisition broke Eric from his thoughts.

“Um… Sure, my name is Eric.”

“OK Eric, my name’s Nick!” As Nick spoke, Eric noticed something spark inside Nick’s mind. Maybe it wasn’t Nick’s mind, but somewhere deep inside his head some fire had lit up and gone into overdrive. It was almost as if some kind of energy had been

bottled in the deepest pit of those dark brown eyes, and was being restrained as much as possible, but was slowly leaking through at this moment.

“What do you like to play?” asked Eric, still unsure what to do with Nick, in play, and in his emotional disposition towards him.

“How about Wizards?”

“Magic? No, my parents don’t let me play with magic!”

“So? What about you? Do you like to play magic?”

Touché, he had made a point. Why Eric? Why do you do the things your parents want you to? Are you really a good little boy, or are you just afraid of the spanking you will get if they find out?

“I don’t know.” he answered honestly.

“Well, wouldn’t you like to find out?”

“Hmm… you go to church Nick, you know Jesus never used magic-”

“Oh whatever Eric, Jesus did miracles right? Miracles, magic, isn’t it all the same?”

Eric didn’t know. He didn’t know very many things, he just did as he was told. He took his Bible to Sunday school, he said his prayers, he always said “please” and “thank you”. He was a good boy, or was he? What was good; What was evil? Who was he to know? That was something the adults worried about, he just did what they said was “good”, and avoided what they said was “bad”.

Who is this all for? What do you believe Eric? The answers where simple, he

did it for himself, and he believed in a very simple philosophy: thou shalt do what bigger, tougher people tell thee, or thou shalt be smote. Unknown to him, many adults followed this philosophy too: do what your spouse says or you will have a divorce on your hands. Do what the boss says or you will get fired. Live a right holy life or God will take your Corvette away and strike your dog with lightning.

“Come on Eric lets have some fun, all my friends do this!” Before Eric could say “no” he found himself joining Nick in a little game of Wizards.

Its only make-believe, at least that is what Nick and that strange voice in Eric’s head kept telling him. Or was it in his head? It felt more like a poison dripping into his lungs.

Don’t be silly Eric you just ate too many of those odd triangle shaped tuna-fish sandwiches they had in the foyer of the church! But then what was that other voice he heard, the one that told him that this whole charade was more real than he thought? It was more real than he thought: as they cast imaginary spells, Eric felt more and more of an adrenaline rush come over him. It wasn’t that healthy kind of adrenaline that you get from a good workout, it was the kind you got when you were hiding a secret that never should have existed.

As Nick washed the dirt off his hands, that he had collected while playing in the yard, in the laundry room sink, Eric looked at himself in the mirror to the left of the sink. What’s that look in your eyes Eric? You have a wild glazed over look. Wild like some monster lurks behind those innocent blue eyes; glazed over like you are out to lunch Eric!

Where are you boy? Who’s inside your head?

*****

After a few weeks’ time passed, Eric and Nick had seen a lot of each other. At least every second day Eric was at Nick’s house for a visit.

The two boys did everything together. They were best friends. But as time passed, Nick taught Eric how to do many things he never should have known himself.

Eric sat at home sitting in the living room. He and his father had had a long talk the night before about Nick’s negative effect on him. They had both agreed that maybe it was time for him to take a little time off from seeing Nick.

He sat waiting for Nick to phone him to ask him to come and visit. However today Eric would be declining the invitation.

The phone rang.

“Hello?” asked Eric nervously.

“Hey Eric, wanna come over and hang out?” replied the voice on the other end. It was Nick.

Tell him Eric! Tell him you can’t come over, you need a break. He paused for a moment. Yeah right like he will understand that!

“Um… I’m really tired Nick, I’m sorry, um how about maybe next week?” Eric wasn’t really lying, he was tired from staying up late, having had that long talk with his dad last night.

“Next week? How much sleep do you need buddy?”

It was true, putting off visiting for a week, because of being tired, was a very lame excuse indeed.

“I just need a break. You understand don’t you Nick?” Eric asked sheepishly.

“Oh I understand Eric, I see how it is for sure now!” Nick slammed the phone down. Eric had hurt him, and he knew it. It was the last time Eric would hear from him in ten years.

He blamed Nick the whole ten years for influencing him to do those things which went against his morals.

You are my enemy Nick, you were the devils advocate!

*****

The present…

Nick had made his way to Eric’s seat on the bus. He was looking right at Eric now.

You Nick! You’re the one who stole my childhood innocence! He sincerely hoped that Nick did not recognize him.

“Excuse me, are you Eric Dawson?” asked Nick politely. He still had those wild vacant eyes.

“Uh, yes I am…” I hope he’s not still mad about the phone call…

“Do you remember me?” Nick smiled from ear to ear.

Hmm, he doesn’t seem like a monster, he actually seems unusually friendly? Eric thought.

“Yes, you’re Nick Kent aren’t you?”

“Yes! Oh wow its been so long man, how are you?” Nick seemed rather excited to see him, like he was a long lost friend. Eric was anticipating a long lost enemy, but something about Nick made it hard to be mad at him. He had an unusual child like quality to him.

The two young men talked about old times, all the good memories, not the bad ones. It made Eric actually miss the old days.

Something about Nick had seemed unusual though. His choice of words were beneath his age, and he acted quite like he was still a child. Suddenly a revelation hit Eric like freight train. Nick was special needs and he always had been. That was why he was rarely allowed over to other peoples homes alone. That was why his mother was so

protective of him. That was why he had always seemed so energetic and had those vacant eyes.

Eric felt a wave of guilt sweep over him. He had blamed Nick all these years for his loss of innocence. Nick was not responsible for his own actions, led alone Eric’s. Eric was his own worst enemy, he had drunk the poison of transgression himself. Nick had merely handed him the cup, not knowing any better.

Eric let go of his unmerited hate towards Nick. They sat on the bus that rode them to the next big step of their lives, college. He now stepped into this future by correcting his past.

Nick rambled on about their childhood and what had happened in the last ten years. Eric contently listened to Nick: a boy in a man’s body, who so many people, including himself, had misjudged.

Eric smiled.

Nice to see you again old friend.

THE END

Christopher Green © 2012

Photo provided by Colleen Green. Check out more of her work at http://photosandphotography.wordpress