Dry

When tears are not enough

I live in the other side of town and my name is Nathan. I am a writer and I love what I do. The story am about to tell is not about me in particular but my friend Dry.

The toughest kid in the block whose slogan everyone knew: "do what I tell you or someone will suffer. "

Everyone saw him as a brute, a heartless beast with no real identity but I, Nathan saw him only as my stallion, a treasure in its raw form, unrefined and above all, the boy you can never crack.

                             * * *

I was only ten when my daddy moved out of the house, as a result of the frequent cursing and swearing my mom and daddy use to do.
Although I was too young to understand what the regular fights was about or who between them was to blame. One thing was certainly obvious, they could no longer stand each other.

My mother and I had just returned from church on a Christmas Eve when we found an envelope lying on the couch in the living room.

My mother opened it and found a written note in it. She read through the note and then stared blankly at the floor. And in a moment, she squeezed the note in her hands and threw it on the floor.

I watched from a distance, and saw that her body had began to tremble, her hands were folded in a fist and we're both shaking. Her breathing had increased and it looked like she was going to pass out. She sat on the couch trying had to fight the tears that would soon begin to flow.

I walked timidly towards the note and picked it from the ground. I managed to open it and read slowly, trying to understand every line in the note. I still cannot explain the kind of emotion I felt that day, especially after reading the last line: "and you can keep the boy, I know you love him."

Those words, shot me like an arrow and I felt it piercing through my heart and soul. It was a hard and bitter pill to swallow, a wounded reality to accept.

I ran upstairs to my room and Flunged the door. I walked into the room and stared into space. I thought I was loosing my mind so I immediately held my head and massaged my temple. I forced myself to look at the room, I looked at the bed and pillows, up at the ceiling and down at the tiles then at the faded Blue Jeans I wore.

I felt my stomach tighten and it soon began to upset me. I managed to sit on the bed but the pain grew worse. The room did not have the cozy, warm feeling it used to have. It just felt really cold and at that moment, life felt really empty.

I lay on the cold bed with my hands between my thigh. My head was hot and my eyes felt heavy but the tears wouldn't just come out. So I closed my eyes and the thought of daddy came.

I remembered how he told me that he would get a bigger Christmas present if I did better in school. And I promised him that I would because I wanted something bigger and better for Christmas. I really wanted to show my present off to my friends so I worked harder than I ever did because I wanted to impress him.

How could any of this have meant nothing to him.

Are relationship that easy to forget?
Are promises that easy to break?
Or was his leaving the present he said he would give me?
Didn't he know he was breaking my heart.

My mind wondered and wondered until the tears came streaming down my face. I couldn't take it any more so I decided not to think at all. I emptied my mind gradually. And finally, I drifted to sleep.