Days in Preparation
001
The day I started school stands out in my head very clearly.
My five year old eyes cracked open, and I was on my feet and moving towards the living room. The walls of the apartment were grimy with dirty finger prints from strange men, and spilled alcohol from opaque plastic cups.
Lucile was fighting to keep her eyes open as she lay half-naked on the couch, facing a filthy wall in a trance. She was muttering to her 'friend' that I could never see or hear. It seemed okay at the time; I had imaginary friends, too. Then again, I was five, not twenty-five.
After figuring out that Lucile had no intentions of losing her staring contest with the sheet rock, I remember I constructed a sandwich with some difficulty, not being able to reach most anything, and set it in front of her. A glassy set of eyes had landed on me for a second, her dilated pupils focusing for a second before she lost interest.
I pulled on the cleanest clothes I had, a pair of dress pants and a wrinkled button-up shirt, and swiftly marched out the door.
The school was only two blocks from my complex, and was an easy walk for an energetic kid. The first day of walking those two blocks was exhilarating. Being shrouded in a sea of legs that seemed to go on forever was one of the most terrifying, yet most exciting feelings a little boy can have.
The school building was large, and intimidating. Tall fifth graders stood outside menacingly, staring down the fresh meat. I gave them all a smug grin, and entered my future.
Once the loud bell rang to signal the end of the school day, masses of students poured out of their class rooms, engulfing me as I struggled to keep afloat in the stampede.
The two blocks seemed longer to retrace, and I found myself exhausted, yet satisfied after climbing the three floors of the complex.
The second I turned the doorknob to go inside, a glass bottle hit the wall next to me. Lucile was having a fight with her friend that I couldn't see or hear. She was yelling, and throwing things, and sobbing all the while. I ducked past a couch cushion and into my room.
The door shut behind me, and I slumped against the door. Catching my breath, I, then, slid down the wooden frame, and kicked my shoes off my feet. I was nodding off in seconds, blocking out the sounds of my mother yelling to an invisible being.
You may be wondering what kind of home life I had at this point. I'm here to tell you about it, and to be honest, that's the only thing that matters to me. I'm here to tell you about it.
My five year old eyes cracked open, and I was on my feet and moving towards the living room. The walls of the apartment were grimy with dirty finger prints from strange men, and spilled alcohol from opaque plastic cups.
Lucile was fighting to keep her eyes open as she lay half-naked on the couch, facing a filthy wall in a trance. She was muttering to her 'friend' that I could never see or hear. It seemed okay at the time; I had imaginary friends, too. Then again, I was five, not twenty-five.
After figuring out that Lucile had no intentions of losing her staring contest with the sheet rock, I remember I constructed a sandwich with some difficulty, not being able to reach most anything, and set it in front of her. A glassy set of eyes had landed on me for a second, her dilated pupils focusing for a second before she lost interest.
I pulled on the cleanest clothes I had, a pair of dress pants and a wrinkled button-up shirt, and swiftly marched out the door.
The school was only two blocks from my complex, and was an easy walk for an energetic kid. The first day of walking those two blocks was exhilarating. Being shrouded in a sea of legs that seemed to go on forever was one of the most terrifying, yet most exciting feelings a little boy can have.
The school building was large, and intimidating. Tall fifth graders stood outside menacingly, staring down the fresh meat. I gave them all a smug grin, and entered my future.
Once the loud bell rang to signal the end of the school day, masses of students poured out of their class rooms, engulfing me as I struggled to keep afloat in the stampede.
The two blocks seemed longer to retrace, and I found myself exhausted, yet satisfied after climbing the three floors of the complex.
The second I turned the doorknob to go inside, a glass bottle hit the wall next to me. Lucile was having a fight with her friend that I couldn't see or hear. She was yelling, and throwing things, and sobbing all the while. I ducked past a couch cushion and into my room.
The door shut behind me, and I slumped against the door. Catching my breath, I, then, slid down the wooden frame, and kicked my shoes off my feet. I was nodding off in seconds, blocking out the sounds of my mother yelling to an invisible being.
You may be wondering what kind of home life I had at this point. I'm here to tell you about it, and to be honest, that's the only thing that matters to me. I'm here to tell you about it.