More story.
Jan. 13th, 2004 02:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dewingedContinuation.
I just hung there, looking like an idiot, just...I couldn't even explain it. I wanted to say something, and I didn't get why back then. Somewhere, I could hear some of the guys I was playing ball with calling my name.
"Kier! Kier!"
I heard them, but at that moment I didn't give a shit if they never found me. I wanted to stay. Please, God, let me stay for a minute longer, I wished. I wanted to have that little pocket of the world, where I could just sit and not have to wonder if and when I was going to be found. I liked this better, I remember thinking to myself. I wanted to see if that kid would win the game. It was quieter, simpler, and chess pieces probably didn't hurt as much if you got beaned in the head with them. I had no idea, really; never played the game.
I sank lower into the bushes, the leaves rustling around me, the ends of the lower branches poking into my bare calves, since I was in shorts at the time. I was set to stay there, just to watch for a few more minutes. I clutched the baseball in my hand, knowing thw game would always be there when I felt like going back. We were young; we knew it would always be there, in our arrogance and perceived immortality. The shade from the sun was welcome, even as the heat plastered my sweat-soaked T-shirt to my back and the dust fron the ground and passing foot traffic made my mouth even drier. If they were still calling my name, I ignored it. For just a few moments, just a few, I wanted to believe that I didn't exist. That Kieran Martel didn't exist.
And I was just starting to believe it when the other boy looked up from the chess game, turned his head, and fixed those brilliant blue eyes on something. That something was me.
I didn't know how he knew someone was looking, or how he could spot someone hidden in the bushes from around fifteen to twenty feet away while in the middle of concentrating on a chess game. But he did, and I felt my insides crawl out of my stomach and try to burrow into the ground below me to root me to the spot. I was caught, big time. And the thought that this guy, who I didn't even know, who I had never seen before in my life, would think something bad about me made my throat swell, closing off my air.
Running, or more specifically, running and yelling in terror would have only compounded my guilt, made me look and feel worse than I already did. I didn't flinch from the sapphire gaze, but matched it with my own blue eyes, which must have looked watery and bland in comparison to his.
I felt myself smile, sheepishly. And I saw him smile back, beginning to show his front teeth in the visage of a grin, lifting a hand in the tiniest of waves. And I started to lift my own hand, to return the gesture.
"He-EY!" My first word of greeting to him turned into a surprised yelp as my shirt was grabbed from behind. From how my shirt pressed against the front of my body, I could tell it was two people, each with a clump of my shirt in their fists, whom grabbed me and haules me back through the bushes. Ricky, who I mentioned before, and Dev.
"Shit, man," Ricky said, letting go of my shirt to tuck a stray lock of light chestnut hair back under his baseball cap. "We thought you bolted." He looked more annoyed at the fact that there was a delay of game than my actual health or mental state.
"Or that you got hit in the head too hard," added Dev, glancing me up and down with brown eyes as dark as his skin was. "Like, you wandered off or passed out or something. Where were you, Kier?"
I started to answer, but my brain took ahold of my mouth and shook the words out before I could get a chance to say anything that might cause me to get my ass kicked every day for the rest of the summer. I turned my head around, the bushes forming a barrier against the rest of the world once again. "It was cooler in the shade," I said. "Felt better." Which was true, really.
"Well, that's over," Ricky answered, taking my by the arm and dragging me off. "We still have daylight, people! Let's use it!" Dev, this time, didn't take my other arm, and just walked with us back to the game. While being dragged off, I turned my head for one last look.
By the time the game ended, it was close to sunset, and I begged off the rides the other kids were offering. It wasn't that far, I said, and I felt like walking home. Which was technically true. I just wanted to take the really long way out of the park, that time. I felt my pace picking up as I started to walk, getting closer to where I was just hours ago, which surprised even me. And I could feel the knot in my stomach once more, because I knew the answer to my question already. Even as I walked through the bushes again, I knew what was going to happen. And I hated it.
See, if there's one pet peeve I've had, it when I don't get an ending. I'm serious. I will watch a movie, any movie, even if it's the suckiest movie in the world, all the way through just so that the part of my brain that wants resolution gets it. I'm the same with books, video games, you name it. The old classic games, like Pac-Man, used to drive me nuts. I mean, he just keeps going? Keeps eating until the player gets tired and those fucking ghosts finally get him? What's the point!? Come on! Then came home consoles, and games that needed to be 'finished' or 'solved' and you got an ending as a reward. Bliss. Utter fucking resolution-happy bliss, let me tell you.
But when I don't get a resolution, where I don't get to solve some mystery that's in front of me, or I end up with things left unsaid, like 'Hello, I'm Kieran,' for instance, that shit will haunt me for longer than I really wants to admit, here. And I had that feeling in the back of my head that this, THIS was going to be one of those non-resolved little things in my head, even as I had that feeling like I was, as it turned out, too late.
It was late, and the chess table was abandoned. No pieces, no players, no interesting kid.
I turned, and just walked away from it. I knew how I reacted to things like this: I would end up keeping an eye on the same spot for the next few weekends. Mostly casual looking, like waiting for lightning to hit the same spot again. I'd keep finding excuses to cut out from the ball games we'd have and take a peek, wondering. But, as with how it usually works, that kid never showed up there again, and after a few weeks, I just stopped looking, and went on.
But even now, two years later, I still think about the ball I let get away. The weekend ball games stopped at the end of that one summer. With all the neighborhood guys going to different high schools, we ended up losing track in the sea of new friends and rival sports teams.
All the home runs, and I still forget those moments in favor of the catch I missed. Sometimes, it's what pulls at me. Why I get snappy with my friends, or my folks. Not that specific thing, but just that feeling that there are things that will never be resolved. Things that will never have an ending.
I believed that one, right up until that one Saturday morning, two years after the fateful missed ball...
I just hung there, looking like an idiot, just...I couldn't even explain it. I wanted to say something, and I didn't get why back then. Somewhere, I could hear some of the guys I was playing ball with calling my name.
"Kier! Kier!"
I heard them, but at that moment I didn't give a shit if they never found me. I wanted to stay. Please, God, let me stay for a minute longer, I wished. I wanted to have that little pocket of the world, where I could just sit and not have to wonder if and when I was going to be found. I liked this better, I remember thinking to myself. I wanted to see if that kid would win the game. It was quieter, simpler, and chess pieces probably didn't hurt as much if you got beaned in the head with them. I had no idea, really; never played the game.
I sank lower into the bushes, the leaves rustling around me, the ends of the lower branches poking into my bare calves, since I was in shorts at the time. I was set to stay there, just to watch for a few more minutes. I clutched the baseball in my hand, knowing thw game would always be there when I felt like going back. We were young; we knew it would always be there, in our arrogance and perceived immortality. The shade from the sun was welcome, even as the heat plastered my sweat-soaked T-shirt to my back and the dust fron the ground and passing foot traffic made my mouth even drier. If they were still calling my name, I ignored it. For just a few moments, just a few, I wanted to believe that I didn't exist. That Kieran Martel didn't exist.
And I was just starting to believe it when the other boy looked up from the chess game, turned his head, and fixed those brilliant blue eyes on something. That something was me.
I didn't know how he knew someone was looking, or how he could spot someone hidden in the bushes from around fifteen to twenty feet away while in the middle of concentrating on a chess game. But he did, and I felt my insides crawl out of my stomach and try to burrow into the ground below me to root me to the spot. I was caught, big time. And the thought that this guy, who I didn't even know, who I had never seen before in my life, would think something bad about me made my throat swell, closing off my air.
Running, or more specifically, running and yelling in terror would have only compounded my guilt, made me look and feel worse than I already did. I didn't flinch from the sapphire gaze, but matched it with my own blue eyes, which must have looked watery and bland in comparison to his.
I felt myself smile, sheepishly. And I saw him smile back, beginning to show his front teeth in the visage of a grin, lifting a hand in the tiniest of waves. And I started to lift my own hand, to return the gesture.
"He-EY!" My first word of greeting to him turned into a surprised yelp as my shirt was grabbed from behind. From how my shirt pressed against the front of my body, I could tell it was two people, each with a clump of my shirt in their fists, whom grabbed me and haules me back through the bushes. Ricky, who I mentioned before, and Dev.
"Shit, man," Ricky said, letting go of my shirt to tuck a stray lock of light chestnut hair back under his baseball cap. "We thought you bolted." He looked more annoyed at the fact that there was a delay of game than my actual health or mental state.
"Or that you got hit in the head too hard," added Dev, glancing me up and down with brown eyes as dark as his skin was. "Like, you wandered off or passed out or something. Where were you, Kier?"
I started to answer, but my brain took ahold of my mouth and shook the words out before I could get a chance to say anything that might cause me to get my ass kicked every day for the rest of the summer. I turned my head around, the bushes forming a barrier against the rest of the world once again. "It was cooler in the shade," I said. "Felt better." Which was true, really.
"Well, that's over," Ricky answered, taking my by the arm and dragging me off. "We still have daylight, people! Let's use it!" Dev, this time, didn't take my other arm, and just walked with us back to the game. While being dragged off, I turned my head for one last look.
By the time the game ended, it was close to sunset, and I begged off the rides the other kids were offering. It wasn't that far, I said, and I felt like walking home. Which was technically true. I just wanted to take the really long way out of the park, that time. I felt my pace picking up as I started to walk, getting closer to where I was just hours ago, which surprised even me. And I could feel the knot in my stomach once more, because I knew the answer to my question already. Even as I walked through the bushes again, I knew what was going to happen. And I hated it.
See, if there's one pet peeve I've had, it when I don't get an ending. I'm serious. I will watch a movie, any movie, even if it's the suckiest movie in the world, all the way through just so that the part of my brain that wants resolution gets it. I'm the same with books, video games, you name it. The old classic games, like Pac-Man, used to drive me nuts. I mean, he just keeps going? Keeps eating until the player gets tired and those fucking ghosts finally get him? What's the point!? Come on! Then came home consoles, and games that needed to be 'finished' or 'solved' and you got an ending as a reward. Bliss. Utter fucking resolution-happy bliss, let me tell you.
But when I don't get a resolution, where I don't get to solve some mystery that's in front of me, or I end up with things left unsaid, like 'Hello, I'm Kieran,' for instance, that shit will haunt me for longer than I really wants to admit, here. And I had that feeling in the back of my head that this, THIS was going to be one of those non-resolved little things in my head, even as I had that feeling like I was, as it turned out, too late.
It was late, and the chess table was abandoned. No pieces, no players, no interesting kid.
I turned, and just walked away from it. I knew how I reacted to things like this: I would end up keeping an eye on the same spot for the next few weekends. Mostly casual looking, like waiting for lightning to hit the same spot again. I'd keep finding excuses to cut out from the ball games we'd have and take a peek, wondering. But, as with how it usually works, that kid never showed up there again, and after a few weeks, I just stopped looking, and went on.
But even now, two years later, I still think about the ball I let get away. The weekend ball games stopped at the end of that one summer. With all the neighborhood guys going to different high schools, we ended up losing track in the sea of new friends and rival sports teams.
All the home runs, and I still forget those moments in favor of the catch I missed. Sometimes, it's what pulls at me. Why I get snappy with my friends, or my folks. Not that specific thing, but just that feeling that there are things that will never be resolved. Things that will never have an ending.
I believed that one, right up until that one Saturday morning, two years after the fateful missed ball...
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Date: 2004-01-13 11:28 am (UTC)::waits for part three...::
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Date: 2004-01-13 11:44 am (UTC)