California

“Brendon, honey, don’t forget to wash the dishes and clean up the kitchen,” my mother shouted from downstairs.

I was seated up in my room with my guitar in my lap. It had become a routine for me every summer since I could remember. My mother and father would leave me home alone with at least one chore to do. Then I would sit around all day imagining or I would wander about the house and imagine. I’d imagine all kinds of things and places. There were so many things a sixteen year old could think up.

“Yes, mom!” I shouted back.

“Your father and I will be out until late tonight. I expect the dishes to be done when I get back and for you to be asleep. I hate it when you’re up late. Not good for your health,” she shouted.

“Yes, mom,” I repeated.

“Alright, bye Brendon. I love you,” she said. Then I heard the door shut and the car pull out of the drive way.

Alone at last, once again. I enjoyed having the house to myself. No one would question me when I went off into another world. Every room in my house was someplace else except for my bedroom. My bedroom was reality. For instance my living room was the grasslands of Africa full of antelopes and giraffes. My dining room was ancient China with a royal dynasty ruling over it with grand lunar festivals and parties. My personal bathroom was an escape to London where I would brush up on my British accent and ride the London Eye. Yet my favorite spot within the whole house was my kitchen. My kitchen had become my dream spot, the one place that I knew I could get to one day, California.

Unlike my classmates, I never went on vacations. I stayed home every summer while everyone was away. I always asked my parents if we could go on vacation, but they either said that they couldn’t take off work or they didn’t have the money. That was my life until now.

I walked into the kitchen, taking in the pile of dishes and utensils in the sink and the dirty counters. Right now my kitchen was just a kitchen. No warm, sunny beaches or palm trees. Just a dirty kitchen with dishes screaming to be clean. Everything was screaming at me. Screaming to change to be something different. Screaming to be California.

“Well George, it seems we meet again,” I said to my favorite dish, opening the faucet. The water flowed fiercely and became the sound of waves hitting the sand. George went from a dish to a boy taller than me with a happy smile and dark hair. He was my Californian companion who would walk the beach with me as I made my mental trips. George was kind of my best friend and always complimented me.

”So Brenny, did you save enough yet? I’ve been dying for you to actually come out here for real,” George said, smiling. He’s the one who gave me an elaborate idea to start saving up enough money for a bus ticket to California and its golden shores.

The warm breeze hit my face as I tried to think. A ticket would cost me sixty dollars and on top of that I would need money to support myself until I found another way to earn money. If I was going to go to Cali, it was for good and not just for a visit. “I think I have almost three hundred, George. I can’t tell if that will be enough but the ticket is sixty and that leaves me two-forty to live off until I could find a way to get on my feet,” I answered.

“As long as you make it here Brenny, I’ll be happy. You could even stay with me! We could go to the beach everyday and sometimes even the boardwalk. We could get candy and ride the Ferris wheel when you get here!” George was always very happy when we spoke about me going to California. It was one of his favorite topics besides the boardwalk. We never went to the boardwalk though. My mind and amount of dishes never stretched far enough.

I chuckled. “Sure I could stay with you and we can go to the beach every day. We could make sandcastles and look for seashells too.” I grinned. “You make me really happy George, you really do,” I spoke.

“I like that Brenny,” he said lowly and lacing our finger together, “I really like that a lot.”

I looked at our hands and frowned. “George, you know I have to go soon,” I sadly told him. I looked up at him to see his sad eyes.

“Already Brenny? You just got here! We can’t even see the boardwalk in the distance yet,” he whined.

“I’m sorry. I really am. I promise that I’ll be back soon or even better I’ll leave tonight and then we can go to the boardwalk and I can win you a toy,” I said, trying to get his hopes up. It was like this every single time. The routine had never changed until now. Today I was going to leave for the place of my dreams.

“Really, really, Brenny?” George asked.

I flashed a full-tooth smile to him. “Yes, George. We can finally be together and go to the boardwalk,” I spoke. “But I have to go now. Bye George.”

“Bye Brenny. See you later,” George told me, a hint of sadness in his voice. His long, thin arms wrapped around my middle in a hug. I hugged him back tight. This would be the last time I see George. Well at least in the kitchen while washing dishes. I could visit George any time in my head.

My head pulled out of California and I turned off the tap in the sink. I grabbed George the plate and dried him quickly. He was coming with me to California. I couldn’t just leave him behind at all. I bolted up to my room. I paused to take a look around to see what I would need. Clothes, guitar, money, George, was all I thought I needed. I could have used so much more. I placed George on my bed and got down on my knees. My eyes searched urgently in the darkness under my bed for the box I was saving my money in. It was old, battered, and full of Christmas and birthday money. That was the only way to gain cash without a job for me.

“Bingo,” I whispered in content when I finally found my box of California cash. I slowly pulled it out from under its dark home, a wide grin gracing my face. Once brought into the light, I placed the box atop my bed next to George. This was it. I scrambled to my feet and rushed around gathering clothes and throwing them on my bed. I even threw shoes onto my bed along with socks, boxers, and things of that nature.

A whirlwind of thoughts were going through my head at rapid speed. I couldn’t believe I was actually going to do this. I was going leave home for good unless they came to find me. I’d just hide. I knew I would never want to come back once I got there. They could never bring me back and if they did I would never be fully happy until I went back.

My eyes shot to my backpack sitting, forgotten, in a corner of my room. I quickly grabbed it and turned it upside down to make sure it was empty. Broken pencils and bits of paper fell out in a light shower onto the red carpet. There was no time. I wanted to leave as soon as possible. Shoes went first and into the bottom of my bag with clothes on top. I walked hurriedly to the bathroom, grabbing my toothbrush and paste. A comb was even grabbed by my swift hands. I couldn’t stand it anymore being in that house. I needed to get out.

Anxiety and anticipation coursed through my veins while I threw everything into one bag. My saved up money was pulled out of the box, placing sixty in my wallet and the rest tucked at the bottom of my bag where I knew it would be safe. I continued rushing around grabbing anything that seemed useful to me. I even packed George in my bag where he wouldn’t get damaged.

Once packed, I took a breath. My room looked remotely bare once I took a final look around for items. There was nothing else I could see or think of that I would have needed. My guitar was in her case and my bag was ready. Now all I had to do was leave. There would be no note. There would be no message spelt out on the fridge with the old letter magnets that entertained me as a child. There would be nothing. Just their memory of their child and their wondering of where their child went that’s what would be left. I slipped on my heavy backpack and gripped the handle of my guitar’s case.

I walked down the steps of my home for the last time until I wanted to come back. There was nothing to say goodbye to. I glanced at the rooms in which my worlds had lived. They were now simple rooms again. The worlds had packed with me and were now stored in my head. I was out the door locking it with my keys. I didn’t know what to do with them because leaving them in a random location could be very dangerous. I just ended up pocketing them and beginning my short walk to the bus station.

“Welcome aboard to the Greyhound to California. Make sure you are seated comfortably because even though the ride may not be the longest it will take some time,” the attendant said as the bus started rolling out of the station. Las Vegas, Nevada was soon to be history to me as I sat with my guitar between my legs and my backpack on my lap. An elderly woman was seated next to me, sleeping, so I wouldn’t have someone bothersome next to me. I relaxed in the seat and let my head roll to the side of the window. The brown desert was becoming a blur as we gained speed. I could feel myself breaking free as we kept getting farther from Las Vegas.

All I could do was smile, goofily, I’ll admit due to still having braces. Yet that wouldn’t matter anymore once I reached the California. I could be free and roam around to see the amazing sights. All I had to worry about is where to spend the night, but I had enough to stay at a hotel for maybe two nights. I could even play at the boardwalk for tips and sing. I could do anything I wanted. I just wished George was real and was there with me.

My eye lids began to feel heavy as I watched the ground pass by. Gravity was trying to bring them down and I was fighting my hardest to keep them open. As much as I wanted to leave Nevada I didn’t want to miss my last glimpses at it. As much as I wanted to never see this state again I couldn’t help but want to watch it pass by my eyes for the last time because I was headed for beautiful, blue skies, and golden shores. I was headed home, my new home.

“Welcome to California! We’ll be arriving at the station soon. Please make sure you have all of your belongings ready. We are entering Los Angeles now,” the attendant spoke through the loud speaker, awakening me from my sleep.

My eyes opened and hit the window quickly to take in my new scenery. It was large buildings made of different shades of grays and oranges. I was marveled at how this was my new home and surrounding, yet I didn’t want the city I wanted the beach.

The bus began to slow down into a stop at a bus station much like the one I left from in Nevada. I gripped my bags and slowly stood up. The elderly woman next to me was taking her time getting off the bus, yet I didn’t mind. I wasn’t in any rush. I wanted to take in my new surroundings and digest them so I could get the full Californication. Not that I wanted to be jaded. Yet it just seemed necessary.

The elderly woman was a good few feet ahead of me now. I slipped my backpack onto my back and kept my guitar case in hand. I shifted out of the bus and onto the Los Angeles streets. I immediately began walking looking for a sign that pointed to a beach town. Luckily enough there were signs with directions on some of the corners. I followed.

I followed for hours. I followed for hours, upon hours, upon hours, until I could see the sunset in the distant horizon of the ocean. The beach was far, but I had made it. I was walking the sidewalks, taking in the breezes that came along and watching the palms sway. I was tired once more very tired. Yet not a hotel in sight. Just the buildings that ranged from apartments to the occasional home.

“George, I made it,” I yawned, my eyes searching for a safe, dark spot. My eyes landed on a simple alley with a bit of light coming inside of it from the sun setting and the moon entering grandly into the sky. It was the only time they could see each other so I always thought they tried to look their best for when they saw each other. I sank down to the ground far enough in so that no one could see me. I placed my guitar under my body to guard her. I kept my backpack on my back yet it facing one of the walls. It was uncomfortable but I wanted to protect my belongings.

I found a position that wasn’t too uncomfortable and settled down for the night. It wasn’t hot nor was it cold. My body settled into the spot I had made, my muscles relaxing. The ocean breeze and scent was slowly lulling me into dreamland. I guessed that’s where George would live now. He was always in my head. My eyelids felt heavy once more and they shut allowing me to be carried off into dream land.

“Kid. Kid! Hey kid! Kid, you okay?!” a light yet urgent voice asked. He sounded worried yet I didn’t want to open my eyes. I wanted to continue to sleep. “Shit, what if he’s dead? I can’t be near a dead kid. That would make me look like I killed him,” the person continued to ramble. Did he really think I was dead? I had no idea.

“Mmmnot dead,” I muttered, my eyes still shut and half my body still in sleep mode.

“He’s alive!” the person exclaimed happily. “Kid, you okay? I kinda just walked out the door and saw you here and got worried.”

My eyes opened and my body shifted to a sitting position. In front of me was a boy, squatting and looking at me with large brown eyes. He had fluffy, brown hair and a pouty mouth. He uncannily looked like–“George?” came flying out of my mouth in question.

The boy cocked an eyebrow and his eyes went from worried to perplexed. “No,” he said, holding the sound of the ‘O.’ “The name’s Ryan actually. You sure you’re okay, kid?”

I rubbed at my eyes. He looked so much like George, it was beginning to bother me. His name wasn’t even George. “S-sorry, you just look like I someone I know. I’m fine I think. Nothing hurts and no one’s come looking for me yet,” I mumbled out. I still felt so sleepy. I didn’t even know the time.

“Do you have a name? I feel bad calling you kid constantly,” Ryan spoke to me. I watched his eyes glance at my guitar case.

“Brendon, my name’s Brendon,” I answered. I rubbed my eyes again and tried to wake myself up a little bit more than I was. Why I felt so tired and light headed still, I didn’t know. Yet I was still perplexed at Ryan and his uncanny resemblance to George. It was almost as if he was George’s exact double. “I feel so tired,” I yawned.

“You just woke up though,” Ryan said, confused. His eyebrows became knitted together and I felt rather dazed watching him. His face became more worried. “You don’t look okay, Brendon,” he began, “Are you hungry or something?” That’s when the noise erupted, loud as ever and totally familiar. My stomach growled.

“Food sounds nice,” I slurred, the light headedness kicking in even more. I felt so light and fluffy while my stomach growled. I didn’t particularly remember if I ate the day before or not. My guess was that I didn’t. My body fell to a side and I hit the ground with a thud.

“Oh shit,” Ryan somewhat yelled, “Um stay still! I’m going to bring you upstairs so you can eat. Let me just get your guitar on back and then I’ll I guess carry you! Yeah, I’ll carry you! Don’t worry you’ll be fine!”

I tried to nod, but I felt so sleepy that I don’t know if I did or not. My eyes drooped so I couldn’t really watch the boy I just met do the things he said he was going to. Yet I did feel like I was flying after a bit. My eyes were fully shut by then and all my care was getting so more shut-eye. I felt like I was being carried along down a smooth, black river with stars lined at the bottom. It was a pleasant ride that was awoken by the smell of food.

“Brendon,” Ryan spoke, “Brendon, wake up. I heated up some mac’ and cheese for you. You need to eat! Please wake up! Brenny!”

My eyes shot open at the sound of his last word. He said it the same way George would. It was the right pitch and volume that I was ready to out right call him George. He was so much like him. I grinned with the strength I had left and tried to grab at the food Ryan was handing to me. My hand missed. “S-sorry,” I slurred and stuttered. I never felt so drain before in my life. Reaching out again for the food, I missed. My eyes glanced up at Ryan.

“Oh please don’t tell me I have to feed you,” he whined. His eyes moved from me to the food in his hands and back. At times they would move quickly and then slowly between me and the food. This went on for what felt like hours upon end while I was stuck in a daze hungry. A sigh escaped Ryan lips. “Well since you’re so helpless, I guess I have to.”

“Feeling better?” Ryan asked after he finished feeding me. He looked slightly annoyed with the fact that he had to feed a complete stranger.

I nodded. “Thank you! I feel so much better now. I really don’t know how to repay you though…” I trailed off. Ryan had carried my guitar, and my fat ass along with backpack up some stairs I’d believe to his own apartment where he fed me his own food. He actually didn’t walk past me as he was walking through that alley. He took concern for me. He took true concern.

“How about I make you a deal? How about we go down to the boardwalk and play a few games and get to know each other? You can leave your stuff here. Hell you can even stay the night. I mean you are just a kid,” he told me.

“I’m not that much of a kid actually. I’m sixteen!”

“And I’m eighteen and moved out of my parent’s house. You’re a kid, Brendon.”

“I ran away from home in order to see the world. I can’t be that much of a kid,” I countered.

Ryan chuckled. “You’re still young and foolish. I envy you. Don’t worry Brendon, you’re still a kid.”

I huffed. “Kid my ass! Now where’s this boardwalk?”

“Let’s do it again! Come on again!” I cheered as we got off a ride. We’d been on it at least five times that day. Ryan and I had spent the whole day together. Oddly enough, the boardwalk, where Ryan took me to, looked much like the one George always wanted to go to whenever I would visit him. I even wondered how George was doing in my head. I knew I could tap into that and have a chat anytime, but with Ryan around I didn’t really need George around.

“I think we’ve had enough for the day, Brendon,” Ryan told me. I pouted. “Don’t you pout at me, kid. Remember I’m helping you!” he yelled in a playful tone. My pout disappeared.

“But I have plenty of money left,” I explained. I took half of my cash with me before we left for the boardwalk. “We could go on for the rest of our lives at this rate!”

“Let’s not,” Ryan quickly spoke. “How about we go to one of those game booths see if we win something? Then we can head back to mine for the night.”

I agreed with him and we walked towards the bright lights and happy music. Rainbow flashes of light excited me as we walked pass many game stands. There were stands with games of chance, games pertaining to athletic skill, and games pertaining to having a sharp eye to aim. The choices were endless for Ryan and me.

“Ryan, can we play one of those games with the water guns?” I asked, stopping in front of a stand with about five people. The man running the stand was still waiting to see if there would be more contestants.

“Sure Brendon,” he answered, “Sure.” He took a seat at the stand and I took a seat next to him. Paying for the both of us, I handed the man running the stand the money. I looked to Ryan and cocked an eyebrow to show him that he was going down with my face. I tried to aim up my gun to the hole as best I could before the water shot out. It was a habit of mine.

The alarm went off and the water started shooting out of the guns. I pointed it towards the hole at the end and never took my eyes off. I wanted to win. I needed to win. Ryan was so much like George and I promised George I would win him a toy. So if I won it for Ryan, I think it would match up the same for George.

“We have a winner! Boy, in seat number seven, you are our winner!” the man running the stand said to me. My eyes went wide and I stood up and cheered.

“I won! I won! I won!” I sang and danced. I ended up choosing a small bear. He was brown and fuzzy kind of like Ryan’s hair which was much like George’s hair. I held out the bear to Ryan. “Here,” I said, placing it in his arms. “He’s for you.”

Ryan took the bear and stared at it. “Thank you? I guess I’ll name him Brendon,” he said, sounding more confused than anything. His fingers ran through the bear’s fur and smiled at it. Despite his confusion I thought I made him happy with the bear. “Let’s go back to mine now. It’s starting to get late and well I’m kinda tired.” I just nodded and followed him. On the way back though, strangely enough Ryan’s hand took hold of mine as we walked. I didn’t know what it meant, but it felt right, just like when George would hold my hand. I smiled and went along with it.

A week went by. I stayed with Ryan because he refused to let me leave. My face was all over the television as well. My parents were looking for me, but I didn’t want Ryan to know they were. I knew he would send me back. He was so kind to me since he found me. At home he carried the bear I won him around like if it was his child. Ever since he held my hand he’s been so warm to me, holding my hand or sitting close to me. I was surprised yet found it wonderful.

Ryan walked into the room, the television was on. He gave me a small smile and took a seat next to me on the couch. “Hey, Bren,” he whispered. He now shortened my name into small little nicknames. I was fine with it. Ryan’s hand took hold of mine like it had been doing for quite some time. Everything was all peaches and cream until the television said my name. It was when the sound of the news anchor’s voice that ripped up my pleasant vacation.

“Bren,” Ryan started, his voice was distant now, “You have to go home.” His hand left mine. “Your parents are looking for you. Hell you came all the way from Nevada! I know how far that is! Trust me I did it myself.”

“Did what?” I asked fearful now. I didn’t want to go back.

“Left Nevada to come here. I ran away too, but I didn’t run away from loving parents like you. You have to go back. I’m sorry but you do.” Ryan stood up from the couch and hurriedly walked over to grab my guitar, which was still in her case. My guitar was next to my backpack still full of my things. Anything I changed went right back into the bag so I didn’t leave a mess around Ryan’s.

I swallowed hard. “I don’t want to go back! I’ve never been anywhere! I finally got to the one place I wanted to go to and now I’m being told to go back. I won’t go back!”

“Aww, Brendon, you’re sixteen you can’t just run away! You have a life ahead of you. You can go wherever you want when you’re my age,” Ryan tried to reason. He set my bags by me. “Now I’m going to call a cab and we’re going to go down to the police station and make sure you get home, okay?”

“What about you? I think I’m doing just fine living here with you. Am I a bother to you?” I questioned.

“No, you never were, now get up. We’re going so you can go home,” Ryan spoke, giving his final say.

A few hours later I was on my way back to Nevada. I screamed, kicked, and outright refused to go back, yet the police still called my parents. I was now in the backseat of our family car, angry that I was going back. I held my bag close to me as we pulled onto our street and then into our driveway. My parents had said nothing to me since we got into the car so when the car did stop I took off out of it, bag in hand, and into the house. I locked myself in my room that night.

That night I emptied my bag of my clothes and my leftover money went back into the box I kept under my bed. When I reached the bottom I found a neatly folded piece of paper. Curious as ever I pulled it out and unfolded it. My eyes began to read the scratchy handwriting on it.

Brendon,

Sorry, I made you leave but one day you’ll release you had to go back. Hopefully that day is when you’re old enough to move out. Hopefully that day is when you come back to me so I can hold your hand again. I’ll also take good care of Brendon the bear. By the way he says hi.

Can’t wait until you get back when you’re older so you can stay,

-Ryan

I smiled. I was going to go back to California. I was going to go back to Ryan.