Just as his eyes opened up enough to form the thought that he was awake, likewise his hearing was beginning to collect from the environment. The robins outside his bedroom window chirped against the hum of a distant lawnmower. However, somewhere nearby was a sound: gentle shuffling of a curious intent.
“Good morning, Tyler,” said Ed Dory.
Lying prone on the twin-sized mattress, Tyler’s body twitched into consciousness. His father’s words ushering awareness of the sunlight falling onto his rotund face. “Tyler, come on, get up.”
He remained still.
Ed shook his head before surrendering to a smirk, as if the usual hassle every morning suddenly charmed him into loving the boy even more. Fastening his bathrobe, he went over to the bed and sat on the frame. He touched Tyler’s forehead, noticing the flames of red in his brown hair. His hand drew to his shoulder where he nudged him.
“I know how you love your sleep, but you gotta get up. You already burned through three snoozes. I was being too nice, as always.”
Tyler began to release from his stillness, the throbbing of his sore neck making him lie on his side.
Ed’s voice dropped lower, “Tyler.”
He opened his eyes and faced him, looking up.
“Are you up now?”
“I don’t want to.”
“That’s part of growing up, you get to say that the rest of your life.”
“Can I end the developmental process?”
Snorting, Ed asked, “What?”
“So I don’t have to say that the rest of my life?”
“Where did you hear that phrase?”
“Mom said it yesterday. I heard her talking to herself about some stuff.”
“She was probably studying. That’s quite a mouthful, son. I never knew our family would have such a wordsmith.”
“What’s that?”
“It means somebody who is good at using words. Now, stop fooling around. Get up.”
“Wait, dad. I have a question.”
“What?”
“Will mom be a teacher someday like mine?”
“No, your mom doesn’t want to teach 5th grade and above. Maybe if it was a classroom of kids like you. But your mom is gonna be a kindergarten teacher, like Mrs. Meyers.”
Tyler’s eyes drew up, his ruby lips beginning to part. “Are they different?”
“Well...wait, are you trying to buy more time? That’s it, get up right now or I’m taking your Xbox away.”
He then sat upright in bed, rubbing his eyes and groaning.
“I’m going to make breakfast now. If you’re still here in a few minutes and end up being late for school you can kiss the xbox and tv away for a month.”
“Okay, I’m up.”
Ed looked at the boy sitting on the bed, looking down at the floor. He knew his son was not a morning person, but he saw the focus in his downward eyes: the choice to dwell on a thought. He paused for a moment, before walking down the hallway. Seeing that his father left, he gradually rose and walked over to the swivel chair at his desk. Draped, facing up on the back rest was a royal blue, polo shirt. On the upper left chest was a cross in Celtic design, with four smaller ones in each ninety-degree angle. Below it said, Harmony Lutheran School. Tyler stared at the cross.
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Part Two
Outside the window were the blurred fields, full in their green and ready for a few months of fruitfulness before the fall. The color in the countryside conjured Tyler’s memories of the preceding season’s snow and rain. It was the rain he remembered most, and when the storms did come they gave him something to watch outside the classroom. Those “Liverpool days”-as his father coined them-seemed to mellow out the world and move the attention of everyone, elsewhere. As the sight of the school came closer on the horizon, the anticipation began to engulf him.
Ed turned the radio up, grimacing in reply to the news. “Can’t wait for that guy to get out of there.”
“Who, dad?”
“The president. Ever since he got in there he’s raised taxes for business owners like your mom and I. I keep telling myself, just one more year.”
“Obama?”
“Unfortunately, but remember son that there is only one true King of Kings, our Father in heaven.”
“Yeah.”
The detachment in Tyler’s voice alarmed him. Although he didn’t like to rant at length with his son about the concerns of adults, he knew that his child often asked a lot of questions. He asked, “You’ve been pretty quiet, is everything alright?”
Tyler met his father’s eyes, but looked down. He replied, “Yeah. Are we going to Gamestop this weekend?”
“Right, you wanted to get that new video game?”
Sitting upright in his seat, he replied, “Yes, everyone is talking about it at school. Call of Duty: Black Ops. I know it’s an M game, but can I get it?”
“What does that mean again?”
“It means ma...tur?”
“It’s a mature rating? Doesn’t that mean there’s bad stuff in it?”
“Yeah, but a lot of the boys at school have it. Please?”
“I can’t promise anything, but I’ll talk it over with your mother. I guess we can go by this weekend and at least take a look.”
“But their parents let them have it?” His eyebrows coming together in supplication.
“Well, we’re not them son. Our family has different values, so we’ll see.”
Tyler leaned back, crossing his arms and returning to looking out at the fields. Noticing the mood change, Ed asked, “You really want this game, huh?”
Continuing to stare out the window, he replied, “Yes, I never have the games everyone else talks about all the time.”
“Son, you’ve been blessed with a lot, don’t forget that. I didn’t have a quarter of the luxuries you have. You have everything just to yourself. I had to fight as the only boy against all my sisters for everything growing up.”
The school now down the road, Tyler looked ahead, his eyes fixed so that it seemed he was peering beyond the building surrounded by corn fields.
In a nigh whisper, he replied, “Still not what they have.”
Ed turned to him, the anger leaving his face. He parked the truck in front of the school entrance, with crossing guards directing the disembarking children. Tyler remained sullen, but the downward stare returned again on his son’s face.
Shifting towards him in his seat, Ed said, “Look, don’t get bent out of shape over some game. There’s more to life than that. In a year everyone will forget about it and get distracted by something else. We’ll go this weekend and take a look at it, alright? I love you boy.”
“Okay, I love you too, dad.”
“C’mon, kiss me. I’ll see you this afternoon.”
Tyler kissed him, and began to saunter towards the gymnasium doors.
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Part Three
The anonymity afforded by walking with the bustling children outside left as Tyler entered the gym. He was intimidated by the medley of noise and the school body, seemingly all engaged with one another. It seemed to him that there was not an idle loner in the caliginous brick room. Finding a spot to disappear momentarily, he stood near a group of his classmates looking up at the rectangular windows near the ceiling. From its high position, the sunlight slanted down illuminating the center of the gym floor. A handful of the younger children weaved through the circles of discussion.
While continuing his loitering around, it was proving difficult to believe the thought that there was another classmate or clique in his grade that he could reliably approach. It depended on the day, his boldness, or the mood of the person in question. With those factors existing in flux, security was not certain nor was his impression of how his days unfolded. He turned to the eminent boys in his class gathered in one of the corners. The camaraderie with them was equally spotty, but after all he was a boy like they were. He put his hands in his pockets, and walked towards them. The volume of their conversation was high, matching the gestures he noticed from afar. When he entered the circle, the animation ceased.
“Hi, guys,” said Tyler.
“Hi, Tyler,” replied a couple of them.
“What are you guys talking about?”
“Call of duty. But Matthew said his mom forced him to go to some museum,” said Iyad.
Whereas with the first topic he lacked something substantial to contribute, he latched onto the latter.
“What museum?”
“Some airplane museum. They had planes from a long time ago,” replied Matthew.
His eyes widening, Tyler asked, “The Warhawk Air Museum? They have cool World War Two planes there.”
“What?” said Iyad with narrowing eyes.
“It’s this museum in Nampa, they have planes used during the war. When my dad took me, they had a B-29 there. It was a plane that came after the B-17.”
The boys were silent, except for an ‘oh’ Tyler thought he heard above the ruckus around them. He looked at their reactions momentarily, before returning to staring at the ground. Matthew began to smile, turning to Iyad and shaking his shoulder.
“Do you remember last night when we no-scoped that guy at the same time?”
“I know, we were dying so much in that game!”
The rest began to join in, speaking words familiar yet inaccessible for him to inject something that would register a better reaction. A long minute passed before Tyler found an opening for his utterance.
“That game does look awesome. I’m pretty sure I’m going to Gamestop this weekend to get it.”
Tilting his head, Iyad asked, “Do you even have an Xbox?”
“Playstation three is way better,” Matthew said to Iyad.
“I do, I just haven’t played that yet on it,” replied Tyler.
When the bell rang, the herd’s movement shifted from the gym to the doors leading to the hallway. The verve did not leave the children as they walked to class, and the boy’s discussion on the game continued. Tyler remained silent, for the boys walked ahead of him and he had nothing left to say.
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Part Four
The smoke splintered into vines as it rose from the Amalgamated Sugar Factory. Tyler watched it in the shadow of the church steeple, while the children at recess paid it no mind. He knew he could stand there motionless for a while if he wanted to, but the encroaching realization of his peers’ thoughts replaced his desire for observation.
He inspected the playground for a scenario or game he could join, for if he couldn’t perform verbally with the others perhaps physical bonding could compensate. Handball was played by his bookish classmates, the loners talked with each other in a circle on the field, followed by the athletic ones playing touch football. The remaining girls kept to themselves in the jungle gym, and here there would be no point in even entertaining an avenue for interaction. Although contemplating an approach with the loners, Tyler remained fixated on the boys playing football.
Throughout the morning classes, the interaction with the boys stayed with him. He replayed the exchange in his head from initial introductions to breakup. An awareness of the feeling’s unpleasant nature was perceptible, but the reason was not. Festering animosity towards the exchange’s result compelled him to approach the boys once again as they gathered in separate huddles before a play. He thought the moment was perfect to join, for in their separate huddles he saw that their focus on the game was overcome by humor.
His hands in his pockets, he briskly walked up. He asked, “Hey guys, need another player?”
“What?” asked Matthew.
Taking a hand out of his pocket, he gestured and repeated, “Do you need another player?”
There was a brief pause and exchanging glances among the huddle. Tyler repositioned his posture.
“You can play corner on Seth, their receiver.”
“Corner?”
Iyad’s head lowered, “You don’t know what a corner is?”
“You cover him so they can’t throw to him,” added Matthew.
Tyler nodded, and they resumed their conversation while he stood in a gap in the huddle. Before he could find another response, from behind them Break! was growled in unison. Iyad cut off the last sentence and pointed everyone to their positions. Tyler-unsure of the proximity for coverage-stood farther back from the line of scrimmage.
“Hey! Get closer to him, Tyler!” said Iyad.
“It’s okay! It’s 3rd down, he should play zone defense,” replied Matthew.
The quarterback bellowed, “Bluuuuuue-42-set…hike!”
Four of the receivers from the other team sprinted in winding paths down the field. The quarterback backpedaled, and began to survey for a target. By then, Seth was already arm’s length away from Tyler’s position, rendering him more than a few paces behind by the time he went to full sprint. He turned and dug his heels into the grass for the launch of the chase. As he began to follow Seth, he had already extended the distance between them by ten yards. Just as his body was locked in pursuit, a brown blur descended from his right. Catching it with a thump, the nimble receiver continued until reaching the end zone.
Cheers of the opposing team were met by the volume of Iyad’s voice, “Tyler! You were supposed to cover him!”
Tyler tried to think of a response in reply to the charge, but the embarrassment and facts in the accusation left him mute. Iyad led the team to the opposite side of the field in preparation for the punt. The excitement in the other boys’ faces for the incoming play was lost on him: fun was replaced by the scrutiny of his abilities. To fully engage in the play was difficult, and he kept himself to the periphery.
It was first down, and the offense huddled together for the plan. Matthew leaned forward with his hands on his knees, “Recess is gonna be over soon, we have to do a Hail Mary.”
“Right, everybody go long. Brett and Jeremy run halfway, Brandon and Matthew run for the endzone.”
Tyler studied the faces of everyone in the huddle.
“Break!” chanted the players in unison.
His resolve to distinguish himself from the blunder matched the nature of the play. If he could assert his necessity through luck, maybe it would change their minds. As Iyad said Hike! the receivers sprinted through the field with Tyler searching for an open patch. Finding one-for no corner was on him-he turned to Iyad and raised his hands for the catch. The ball arced above him into Brandon’s chest as the bell rang. Boos and the ruffling of the star receiver’s hair ensued, as the class returned to the main building. Trying to smile while keeping a lid on his pride, Tyler turned to Iyad, grinning while tossing the ball upward and catching it.
“Next time pass to me, Iyad. I was wide open.”
The football in his hand rising and falling on each word, he replied, “You can’t catch.”
Recoiling, Tyler said, “I can catch.”
He repeated, “You can’t.”
Tyler kept his stare on Iyad, who glared at him in return. As the boys conversed about the victory, he kept behind them looking at the grass below him. He was glad recess was over, and that there was only one smaller one towards the end of the day.
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Five
Tyler walked through a ray of sunlight slanting through the hallway windows. After passing it, he stopped and turned to look at the light both on the floor and chipped lockers. Simple. Wiping his damp hands on his jeans, he listened to the whirring of the water fountain and classroom doors closing in nearby halls. Here, stillness was his play and the orchestrations were his to command. He enjoyed the solitude granted in these moments, but appreciation struggled to make headway for context. Returning to class did not instill the fear of the mornings and other socializing periods, but he often tried to prolong these walks alone from the bathroom.
Room 413 came into view as he turned the corner in the hall, and his breathing deepened. Opening the door, he welcomed the postponement of simplicity.
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Part Six
The rounded crucifix swayed around the rear view mirror as Ed’s truck idled at the stoplight. Although Tyler was facing towards his window, he could not take his attention off of the pendulating cross. Irritation beginning to sting from his son’s silence made Ed twitch and turn to him. But the boy didn’t reflexively return his stare, only fixating on something despite the distance in his eyes. The light turning green, Ed continued towards home, the foothills around Lake Lowell appearing into view behind a row of poplar trees. Subdivisions receding, the landscape returned to patchwork fields dotted with water wheels.
Turning onto the road along the dam, Ed forgot about his paternal duties for a moment to notice the lake. It was a clear day in the valley, enough to see distant ripples on the vast blue. Watching the cranes congregating in the marsh, he started to think of the parallels with his son’s childhood and his. His anger subsiding, he pulled the truck over onto the shoulder. Tyler woke from his trance, looking outside at the slope behind the dam. Turning off the motor, Ed turned to his son and rested his hands on the center console.
“Son, did I ever tell you about the big argument I had with your grandfather when I was around your age?”
Tyler shook his head.
“It was my thirteenth birthday, and by that time my friends and I were past action figures and we all wanted mini bikes. One by one, all my friends started to get one. The growing sense of being excluded was choking me to the point where I was bugging grandpa about it day and night. But you know already that we didn’t have much money growing up, and even if the old man managed to not drink away the savings he would’ve caved to your grandmother’s demands and got a new water heater instead. So guess what happened?”
Tyler’s hands were on the console now, “What?”
“I never got one, but grandpa surprised me and bought me a watch. Nothing extravagant but a decent and nice looking one. He had never bought me anything like that before, which made me realize he cared enough to try to compensate. You know I had issues with him over the years, but he did try to be good. For some people, I suppose that’s enough. Even with him gone all these years now, I still love him.”
“What happened?”
Ed drew his hand up to his mouth, attempting to hold in place an expression that wasn’t trembling. Tyler shifted in his seat, understanding it was a rare moment seeing his father lose his composure.
“After I opened it, I threw it back in the box and tossed it to him. I told him…I…I didn’t want it.
The last word wavered, and Ed withdrew his hands onto his lap. After his bracing against the tears, he wiped one that managed to fall down his cheek. Putting one of his prickly hands on Tyler’s, he said, “I’m so sorry I did that to him, and I’m ashamed it took me as long as I did to figure out what I did have instead.”
“What was that?”
“I was a businessman. I could build anything out of nothing, whether I worked with lumber or numbers. They may have had mini bikes then, but now do they have a paid-off house, new truck, and a happy marriage? Not that’s it all about that, because it isn’t. Everything ends one day, son. A year later when I turned fourteen, everyone who had a mini bike didn’t ride them much or else they moved on to something else. Just like that video game will be forgotten. You may feel excluded right now, but you have things they don’t. That also means you won’t get everything you want either, life’s not fair.”
Tyler was still, only rubbing his thumb and index finger together as he thought. Looking up, he asked, “So if I’m not like them, that’s okay?”
“Well, who would you rather be? You or them?”
After a pause, he replied, “Thanks dad. I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright son, are you hungry?”
“Yeah.”
“You know, your mom’s not going to be home until late. Want to get some McDonald’s?”
Tyler replied, “Yeah.”
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