Hollow
Apartment 4C
Ms. Caulfield had a hard-on for the young, tiny, and/or innocent. She was one of those old women with fluffy blue hair who squeezed at the cheeks of anyone relatively attractive or polite and would knock someone over with a cart in the grocery store to get to a pregnant belly. She was also one of those old women who were tiny yet secretly malicious and painfully old fashioned yet filthy mouthed. Her hobbies included dressing up her latest small dog, complaining, and her grandson, Dashiell.
Dashiell Caulfield loved his grandmother, with all his heart, really- but she was just so wrong about so many things, he thought. His grandmother meant well, he knew, because she was just trying to stop him from becoming what his father was, it’s just that with her ancient opinions she was stepping on her own goals and probably causing him to be more and more like his father with all the bullshit she spewed (that is, if he hadn’t stopped listening to her long ago). Honestly, he thought, she was to blame for all that she hated in her own child, Dashiell’s father.
He went to his grandmother’s apartment every weekend for a break. Sure, he has to always wear a button down and slacks and pristine shoes whenever he’s in her presence, and so he has to keep his hair kind of short and try his best to block out her world views- it’s a change from his house. First of all, at his house, no one praises his very being as much as his grandmother. Usually, he’s pretty ignored until he royally fucks up. Second, he can sleep in without someone calling him at the wee hours of the morning to meet them at so and so or pick them up from so and so or come with them to so and so, because everyone knows that he spends every weekend an hour away. Third, no one but his grandma knows him here. It’s not because he doesn’t want to associate with the other residents of Alice Gardens because he thinks he’s above them, as is the case with his grandmother; but because when he’s not catching up on his sleep, he truly is hanging out with his grandmother.
He sees a part of his grandma that most don’t, because most of his flaws are hidden, buried, or dropped off before he leaves home for the hour drive to her apartment. They watch Breakfast at Tiffany’s and Casablanca while drinking tea and to make up for the total effeminacy that she knows this shows, she makes him fix little things at the apartment when she knows she could just call maintenance. He only talks to her about the tamer parts of his life so he doesn’t get chewed out as much as he does at home but she always wants the details to reminisce on her glory days over a glass of wine. It’s just that, well, no one loves him like his grandmother, really. Even when she does find out some of the bad things he does, she keeps all this hope in him. So much hope that he doesn’t even have to long for it by his parents or restore it in himself, because his grandma’s always got him.
It’s just that he’s had a particularly shitty week and by the time he pulls his Mercedes into his grandmother’s carport on Sunday, two days late, he still can’t shake it off. Something’s going on down the block with an ambulance and the sirens are loud but he’s grateful for them because it’s hard to think with the distraction. It takes off before he gets out of the car. He takes out his lip piercing and pulls off his t-shirt. He gets the black button up from the backseat and hopes it’s not too wrinkled. He kicks off his chucks and gets gel to make the longest part of his hair, the sides, cover his stretched ears and hairsprays it into place. His jeans he leaves on because they’re black and not too tight and fuck, he just doesn’t feel like changing in the car today. He doesn’t feel like striping himself of any more of his…his fucking identity. He gets enough of that at home.
What he does want to do is punch someone. He wants to earn a shiner and get trashed and fuck a girl and make out with a guy and go home with it all written on his face. He wants his mom and his dad to see the black eye and the sex hair and the hickeys and the guy’s numbers scribbled on his neck in sharpie and smell the booze. And he wants to look in the mirror and be able to finally see the failure that they already think he is by just his piercing and out-of-school clothes and hair. Maybe he wants to prove that he could be worse, prove it to them and to himself. Dash isn’t a bad kid; he’s a little defiant, at best. He’s one of those kids who dresses in black and says their bisexual just because he wants to piss off his parents but gets a piercing and spends most of his time skateboarding because he truly wants to- because his thoughts really are the opposite of theirs. It’s unclear whose right and wrong. Dash isn’t a bad kid at all, they’ve just got high expectations that he honestly won’t live up to (and doesn’t want to). He hasn’t realized that that is okay yet.
He greets his grandmother inside her small, lavender smelling apartment and she tries to subtly ask for details about what was going on down the street, what he saw, how long they were there and well- it’s not so subtle. He tries not to look too pissed off but she still catches it and sighs tells him to go lay down- she’ll ask again when he wakes. While normally he’d lie and say that he was fine, he honestly doesn’t give a fuck about her neighbors or their gossip and so he does what she says and sleeps through the rest of the day. When he wakes up at ten PM, she’s already asleep and he’s surprised that she didn’t wake him. But he’s glad. So he gets up slowly and lightly walks through the apartment and tries not to make too much noise when he opens the door and closes it back behind him.
It’s cold outside, because it’s November, but he doesn’t mind it with his jacket. What he doesn’t like is knowing that it’s only going to get way colder and start snowing and he hates snow. He pops the trunk to the car and pulls out his skateboard- he can’t skate in the snow.
He gets on the board even before he locks the car, but he doesn’t forget- because well, Alice Gardens may be pretty safe but the overall neighborhood is nothing compared to his. Skating warms him up, just skating down the sidewalk, no tricks or jumps because while there’s not really a place to do it here, but he doesn’t really even want to bother with all that fancy shit right now, anyways.
The only thing wrong are the shoes, he didn’t change back into sneakers so the grip is terrible and throwing him off a bit. He’s still looking down at his feet when he hears the “Whoa!” He tries to stop too abruptly and look up at the same time but he ends up stumbling off and then over the board. By the time that he’s upright and got his board back, the kid he almost hit is on the grass with a hand in his pocket. Definitely a kid, probably his age, but he’s smoking. He’s also only wearing a t-shirt and baggy shorts when it’s chilly outside and he’s not trying to be like a mom or whatever, but he can tell the kid is cold by his shivering despite the smirk he’s sporting around the cigarette. Also, his pink belt is nearly glowing through the nighttime darkness.
“Hey, man. Nice shoes,” he says.
“Hey,” Dash replies, a little breathless. “You skate?”
“Ha. No, not at all,” the kid shakes his head and exhales smoke slowly.
Dash frowns a little, just a little but the kid just smiles a little more and extends his hand. “Jamie. I’ve never seen you around.”
“Dash,” Dash says, “I don’t live here.” Jamie nods like he understands, like he doesn’t live here either but he could care less and he just continues his previous thoughts.
“Well, why not?”
“Because I’m terrible at it. Haven’t had a board since sixth grade, man.” He holds in smoke for a long time after he speaks, like he’s savoring it or something and Dash winces subtly because he can’t help but think about how much that must fuck up your lungs at that age. He can probably barely jog long distances, let alone do any tricks.
He nods, though. “Was anyone teaching you?”
Jamie narrows his eyes a little and then a shiver visibly ripples up him but he ignores it. “Why?”
“’Cause I’m offering,” Dash shrugs. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing. But he does know that he doesn’t have school tomorrow, or for the next week, and he really doesn’t want to be anywhere but here but he just doesn’t want to be alone.
Dashiell Caulfield loved his grandmother, with all his heart, really- but she was just so wrong about so many things, he thought. His grandmother meant well, he knew, because she was just trying to stop him from becoming what his father was, it’s just that with her ancient opinions she was stepping on her own goals and probably causing him to be more and more like his father with all the bullshit she spewed (that is, if he hadn’t stopped listening to her long ago). Honestly, he thought, she was to blame for all that she hated in her own child, Dashiell’s father.
He went to his grandmother’s apartment every weekend for a break. Sure, he has to always wear a button down and slacks and pristine shoes whenever he’s in her presence, and so he has to keep his hair kind of short and try his best to block out her world views- it’s a change from his house. First of all, at his house, no one praises his very being as much as his grandmother. Usually, he’s pretty ignored until he royally fucks up. Second, he can sleep in without someone calling him at the wee hours of the morning to meet them at so and so or pick them up from so and so or come with them to so and so, because everyone knows that he spends every weekend an hour away. Third, no one but his grandma knows him here. It’s not because he doesn’t want to associate with the other residents of Alice Gardens because he thinks he’s above them, as is the case with his grandmother; but because when he’s not catching up on his sleep, he truly is hanging out with his grandmother.
He sees a part of his grandma that most don’t, because most of his flaws are hidden, buried, or dropped off before he leaves home for the hour drive to her apartment. They watch Breakfast at Tiffany’s and Casablanca while drinking tea and to make up for the total effeminacy that she knows this shows, she makes him fix little things at the apartment when she knows she could just call maintenance. He only talks to her about the tamer parts of his life so he doesn’t get chewed out as much as he does at home but she always wants the details to reminisce on her glory days over a glass of wine. It’s just that, well, no one loves him like his grandmother, really. Even when she does find out some of the bad things he does, she keeps all this hope in him. So much hope that he doesn’t even have to long for it by his parents or restore it in himself, because his grandma’s always got him.
It’s just that he’s had a particularly shitty week and by the time he pulls his Mercedes into his grandmother’s carport on Sunday, two days late, he still can’t shake it off. Something’s going on down the block with an ambulance and the sirens are loud but he’s grateful for them because it’s hard to think with the distraction. It takes off before he gets out of the car. He takes out his lip piercing and pulls off his t-shirt. He gets the black button up from the backseat and hopes it’s not too wrinkled. He kicks off his chucks and gets gel to make the longest part of his hair, the sides, cover his stretched ears and hairsprays it into place. His jeans he leaves on because they’re black and not too tight and fuck, he just doesn’t feel like changing in the car today. He doesn’t feel like striping himself of any more of his…his fucking identity. He gets enough of that at home.
What he does want to do is punch someone. He wants to earn a shiner and get trashed and fuck a girl and make out with a guy and go home with it all written on his face. He wants his mom and his dad to see the black eye and the sex hair and the hickeys and the guy’s numbers scribbled on his neck in sharpie and smell the booze. And he wants to look in the mirror and be able to finally see the failure that they already think he is by just his piercing and out-of-school clothes and hair. Maybe he wants to prove that he could be worse, prove it to them and to himself. Dash isn’t a bad kid; he’s a little defiant, at best. He’s one of those kids who dresses in black and says their bisexual just because he wants to piss off his parents but gets a piercing and spends most of his time skateboarding because he truly wants to- because his thoughts really are the opposite of theirs. It’s unclear whose right and wrong. Dash isn’t a bad kid at all, they’ve just got high expectations that he honestly won’t live up to (and doesn’t want to). He hasn’t realized that that is okay yet.
He greets his grandmother inside her small, lavender smelling apartment and she tries to subtly ask for details about what was going on down the street, what he saw, how long they were there and well- it’s not so subtle. He tries not to look too pissed off but she still catches it and sighs tells him to go lay down- she’ll ask again when he wakes. While normally he’d lie and say that he was fine, he honestly doesn’t give a fuck about her neighbors or their gossip and so he does what she says and sleeps through the rest of the day. When he wakes up at ten PM, she’s already asleep and he’s surprised that she didn’t wake him. But he’s glad. So he gets up slowly and lightly walks through the apartment and tries not to make too much noise when he opens the door and closes it back behind him.
It’s cold outside, because it’s November, but he doesn’t mind it with his jacket. What he doesn’t like is knowing that it’s only going to get way colder and start snowing and he hates snow. He pops the trunk to the car and pulls out his skateboard- he can’t skate in the snow.
He gets on the board even before he locks the car, but he doesn’t forget- because well, Alice Gardens may be pretty safe but the overall neighborhood is nothing compared to his. Skating warms him up, just skating down the sidewalk, no tricks or jumps because while there’s not really a place to do it here, but he doesn’t really even want to bother with all that fancy shit right now, anyways.
The only thing wrong are the shoes, he didn’t change back into sneakers so the grip is terrible and throwing him off a bit. He’s still looking down at his feet when he hears the “Whoa!” He tries to stop too abruptly and look up at the same time but he ends up stumbling off and then over the board. By the time that he’s upright and got his board back, the kid he almost hit is on the grass with a hand in his pocket. Definitely a kid, probably his age, but he’s smoking. He’s also only wearing a t-shirt and baggy shorts when it’s chilly outside and he’s not trying to be like a mom or whatever, but he can tell the kid is cold by his shivering despite the smirk he’s sporting around the cigarette. Also, his pink belt is nearly glowing through the nighttime darkness.
“Hey, man. Nice shoes,” he says.
“Hey,” Dash replies, a little breathless. “You skate?”
“Ha. No, not at all,” the kid shakes his head and exhales smoke slowly.
Dash frowns a little, just a little but the kid just smiles a little more and extends his hand. “Jamie. I’ve never seen you around.”
“Dash,” Dash says, “I don’t live here.” Jamie nods like he understands, like he doesn’t live here either but he could care less and he just continues his previous thoughts.
“Well, why not?”
“Because I’m terrible at it. Haven’t had a board since sixth grade, man.” He holds in smoke for a long time after he speaks, like he’s savoring it or something and Dash winces subtly because he can’t help but think about how much that must fuck up your lungs at that age. He can probably barely jog long distances, let alone do any tricks.
He nods, though. “Was anyone teaching you?”
Jamie narrows his eyes a little and then a shiver visibly ripples up him but he ignores it. “Why?”
“’Cause I’m offering,” Dash shrugs. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing. But he does know that he doesn’t have school tomorrow, or for the next week, and he really doesn’t want to be anywhere but here but he just doesn’t want to be alone.