Breakage--Kevin

A dark room dimly illuminated by the faint glow of a single monitor, three empty expressos that missed the trash can, vague yelling and pounding in the distance. Another email comes in with yet another unfamiliar name that offers scholarships and the perfect college experience. Wow what a shocker, this one looks just like the rest; pretty architecture, fun traditions, good statistics, and happy smiling faces that scream a sense of purpose. Didn’t Einstein once say something along the lines of “Everyone’s a genius but you can’t judge a fish’s success on how fast it runs”? Must be easy to say that with multiple Nobel Prizes hanging around your neck. Anywho, I’m beginning to become tired. That's enough for tonight.

Oh, cool class started twenty minutes ago and my alarm didn’t even go off. Not that it really matters anyways. If only my family saw this part of me, the wonderful, successful, intelligent kid who can’t even wake up for class on time...let alone actually submit something before its due date. They all have this wonderful spinning image of me that I’m some amazing kid who’s going to be the next Steve Jobs, Neil Armstrong, or Nobel Prize winner. They believe I can get straight A’s just by attending class and going through the motions of “learning”. And the absolute second I ever so slightly dare as to deviate from their spinning image, I am met with harsh consequences. Struggling through collapsing friendships, failed relationships, and failing mental health... and the six letters on my transcript is all that matters to them. Not the straight scars on my wrist, not the lack of a smile, not the feeling of abandonment in my own household, but the six letters on a piece of paper. Six letters are the only proof that I am there son and not some unfamiliar stranger. I can calculate how long it’ll take for their lead ball of expectations to hit the floor but I can’t even tell you the last time one of them uttered those 8 letters of connection to me. I better go grab breakfast before my Dad leaves for work, he won’t be home till 9 PM tonight.

I pour the usual; a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch with some milk and OJ. My brothers are actually looking at something other than a 3 x 6 inch pixelated screen. I hope they didn’t lose their phones.

“Hey Mom, I was thinking this weekend maybe we could all go to my-” “Have you emailed your counselor yet about that letter of Rec??”
“Yea mom”

I don’t know what I expected honestly. Maybe If I say the word “school” between every word, just maybe, my message will get through her dense selective hearing.

“Well anyways, I was wondering if we could go to the park this weekend and you guys could come to my football practice?”

“You hog all of our time it’s always about you Kevin, you know you have two brothers right?” “Yeah sorry, well could I at least hangout with my friends after practice, I haven’t in weeks?”,

“See and this house is just a hotel to you, you come and go as you please and never spend time with us so it's a no”.

“BUT I’M HOME EVERYDAY WITH YOU GUYS, the last time went out was July” “Did you not hear me say no?”

Oh, so now you’re worried about quality time eh. Not that I could really say that. You know a lot of people think I’m so lucky to be good at math and science and whatever other textbook has the CJUHSD stamp on it, but they don’t see this side of things. They don’t see the side where one expectation is met by another to no extent. It’s a miniature version of Hitler and Churchill but even Churchill drew a line somewhere after appeasing Hitler too many times and we all know how that ended. I think I’m tired of appeasing this dictator, I’m gonna go out with my friends anyways. I don’t care what she says or wants anymore, I’ll be fine anyways I hacked Life360 so she can’t track me anyways.

Over the last three days I’ve learned their schedules perfectly. My Dad wakes up at 3AM and leaves for work by 4AM and my Mom doesn’t wake up until 8AM’ish which means even if she files a missing child report that I have until 8AM the next day to be back. This is doable, probably not a good choice, but doable.

I’m still awake and it's 3AM except this time I’m not doing slave labor on one note but instead fake sleeping under my covers. My dad checks on me before leaving for work, he believes I’m “asleep” so I’m cleared now. All I have to do is not make a peep on my way out. I feel like John Anglin as I climb over the brick wall that shields my penitentiary from the world. The rest of the day is a complete blur of absolute freedom and joy. Nothing is stopping me from having fun for once and while I may not be ready to survive in this difficult world yet, I’m old enough to wander it.

The journey home was the most memorable. The car was lit up by city lights and brake lights with Joji playing over the car speakers. My friends and I sat in silence but the air was filled with hundreds of memories from that day. I decided to check the time on my phone so I power it on for the first time since I left earlier that morning. I am instantly met with an endless onslaught of missed calls, text messages,and threats of being punished. Normally this would have terrified me to death but I felt a wave of relaxation come over me. I don’t know what if it was because I was tired beyond belief or if for once I was happy to be free of any and all expectations. For once in my life, instead of catering to everyone else’s expectations.... I did what I wanted to do.