GONER

7 • Memories On Fire

When I got home, I struggled to recall everything that was today, besides the small episode I had during french, and the thoughts that followed. I just wanted to retain the good parts. The teachers lounge part. And the clouds and the stick figures and the tall woman. All of it. It was an interesting day with a lot of feelings trapped inside every single piece of it, and I just sighed when I came in the door, leaning my head against it. I felt like something directly out of some stupid movie. I was confused and maybe had a very small crush on a ridiculously beautiful and strange and magnificent boy, and I didn't know how to feel.

"Tyler, what's wrong with you?" My mom asked. God, why is she always home before I am? "Move away from the door."

At times like this, I wish I could speak to my mom about something other than grades or making new friends so that people wouldn't see her only son as a loser. But I couldn't. She wouldn't understand. She would blow it off and tell me to go do some homework to 'calm myself' or tell me to stop being ridiculous and go do my homework. Either way, she's not going to be too incredibly concerned about anything regarding my mental health. If she wasn't like this, she would probably know a lot more about me. But she didn't know about my perpetual sadness and the things that went on in my head for a reason.

"How was your day?" She chirped. "What did you learn?"

"It was good, mom," I snapped, purposely avoiding her last question. "My day was great. How was yours?"

Her jaw was clenched, but I didn't really care. Walking over to the fridge, I pulled a can of Pepsi out, despite my lack of hunger or thirst. When I was arguing with her, standing still made me feel helpless. Even though I tended to be.

"What's with the attitude?" She said sharply, narrowing her eyes. "I don't appreciate it, Tyler. Did something happen at school?"

"School was great," I said, leaving out what actually made school great. Honestly, I didn't even know if she knew I was gay, and so going on about some boy would probably give it away. But, did I truly care if she knew? Not really. "Thanks for asking."

The thing about me and my mom, is that our personalities clash more than any other two people I've ever met. She was a nice woman in general, I guess, but we were just so different that we never really got along. She worried about school and was usually upbeat and cheerful. I, on the near opposite side of the spectrum, was neither worried about school or upbeat or cheerful. I was sad and boring and translated my pain into lyrics that she would never read because she didn't really care. But she wouldn't
understand that, either, if she read them. She just didn't understand me in general. It sounds like a teenage thing to say, but it's true.

"I'm going for a walk." I announced coldly.

"You literally just got home," she hissed, making me shrug. "Don't you have homework?"

Ignoring her completely, I went all the way back to the front door, before sighing. "Yeah, mom. But that can wait."

"Tyler, you really should focus-" she started.

Briskly, I cut her off with the sound of the door sealing shut behind my furious body. Crossing my arms, I walked down the driveway, trying not to cry. My anger was usually tied to the production of my tears, and it was unbelievably embrassing. When my dad used to yell at me (on a very rare occasion) I wouldn't cry in front of him, but I would go in my room and break down.

I talk to my mom about my dad like I don't care about him. It's quite the opposite, actually. But we don't know where he is, considering the last time anyone saw him was five years ago. He didn't abandon us or anything, because he never packed his things up. Even his clothes were left behind. And all of the paper cranes he used to make. He made a lot of origami, and I have most of it that he didn't take to wherever he went. I wanted a small piece of him. It made no difference as to if it was paper or not.