The Ideas of When

Tears silently made their way down his cheeks as he pressed all his emotions onto the keys and into the notes. All his questions hung in the air unanswered and taunting. His only hope was to escape his mind, drown out his despair with the only way he knew how. His music filled the otherwise silent house, and his sobs went unheard, even by his own ears.

It had happened again. It wasn’t surprising really, but the hole it left in his heart, was crushing. How many more times could he take this, he wondered. How much more could he bare?

The music was slowly dissipating from the room as he came back to himself. He could feel the drying tear stains on his face now, along with his beating heart and the unrelenting weight upon his shoulders. He held back a sigh. He knew he couldn’t escape indefinitely, but it didn’t change the fact that he wished he could.

Getting up from the stool he slowly made his way to the stairs and to his room. The gray walls closed in around him as he took a seat at his desk chair. The rods supporting the back weren’t as sturdy as they used to be, and it definitely sounded as if it would collapse under any pressure, but he paid no attention as he brought his notebook in front of him.

The light brown binding was deceiving. Nothing he wrote down on the pages could be considered anything but depressing. Finally finding a blank page, he realized he’d soon have to get another new one, maybe one that would express the torment in his heart.

Bringing his pen down towards the paper he couldn’t help the sigh that did escape him. He had been writing down all his heartache, all the suffering he perceived in the world, for as long as he could remember. His bookshelf was a testament to that. The six other notebooks he had filled, sat there, silently collecting dust, haunting him.

He could remember the very first entry he wrote. It was a page he had desperately thought about ripping out, but he wouldn’t. It was what started all of this. It was what dropped him into this anguish.

Deciding he couldn’t bring himself to write down his entry he ran his hands through his hair, pulling at the ends. No other teenager could possibly understand his pain. He wouldn’t even expect them to try.

In truth, he didn’t have any friends. His mom had home schooled him a few years after his father had died. He was thankful for it, she had understood, at least to some extent.

School for Aidan simply was hell. He understood too much, he could see things and even if he wanted to, he knew he couldn’t change the outcome. Life had dealt him a stacked hand, one that was nowhere near in his favor.

Leaning back in his chair he stared at the framed taxidermy butterfly on his wall. When he had first seen it, it had vaguely lifted his spirits. It subtly helped him be okay with the cycle of life. Albeit it was a bit strange, he liked it.

Finally deciding to get up he made his way back downstairs. His mom wouldn’t be home for another hour, he was finished with his schooling, and there was nothing to be picked up.

Here he was, a seventeen year old male, standing in the middle of his house, with no place to go and nothing to do. Stopping in front of a mirror he studied his face. He held a slight tan, his copper hair wasn’t too long or shaggy, his nose didn’t take up his face, and he didn’t have acne. He stared intently into his own green eyes, willing himself to be okay, to have some happiness.

Squeezing them shut once more he made the decision to get out of the house. Grabbing a pair of worn Nike’s, he slipped them on his feet, and left the house. He hadn’t bothered with a jacket, opting that when he got cold, he’d come back in.

He leisurely made his way to the back of his house towards a small, almost hidden path, in the trees. He walked until he made it to a small clearing, a place he came to often when he wanted to get away. It was his safe haven.

Sitting down against a smooth rock he stared into the black depths of the small pond, and remembered the first time he had come here.

His father had still been alive, he was at least six, maybe seven, when he told Aidan that he had a special place to show him. In his excited child way he jumped up and down, exclaiming that he was ready, before he had even put on his shoes.

He remembered his father throwing him up on his shoulders, making him feel like a giant, as they walked to this special spot. He could see it before they even broke through all the trees, the pond had twinkled in the sunlight, waiting to be visited.

Once they had finally got here his father set him down and asked Aidan to tell him about his day. Aidan had told him all about his day at school, about a couple of boys in his class that had picked on a girl. His father had smiled down to him and instilled the morals he know held. You never disrespect a lady, no matter what.

The last thing he remembered about that day was his father telling him that if he ever needed to get away, for any reason, that he could come here, and things would be okay.

His father died six months after and as soon as he could he had ran here. His mother had yelled for him to come back every half hour until finally when the sun had started setting, he had come back. She had asked him where he went and he just shook his head and told her that everything was going to be okay.

Coming out of his thoughts he watched a bird land a few feet away from him, pecking at the ground for food. Watching a little longer, and the bird still hadn’t found anything, he let out a small sigh.

At least he wasn’t a bird, he didn’t have to scavenger for food, he didn’t have to worry too much that his home would be destroyed before he could get back.

“Good luck,” he whispered to the bird and as slowly as he could he got up and silently made his way back to his house.

Upon returning he noticed his mom’s car and realized he had stayed out there longer than he thought. Inside Liza Gardner was preparing their dinner, a routine they had come up with years ago.

Hearing her son come back from wherever he had been she called out to him.

“Hi Mom,” he spoke, his words soft and if you listed close you could hear an utterance of his pain.

“Aidan,” she relayed. “How’re you?”

“I‘m fine,” he answered taking a seat on the bar stool. “How was your day?”

“It was fine, what did you do today?”

“Relaxed,” he answered watching his mom turn to him. She could hear that there was more to it but she didn’t push, and he silently thanked her.

Liza went back to preparing their meal. She wouldn’t pressure Aidan into talking to her, understanding he needed his space.

“I’ll go and get ready for dinner,” Aidan finally said breaking their silence.

When he reached the downstairs bathroom he once again stared in the mirror at his reflection. He had much of his dad’s features, only really inheriting his height from his mother.

Knowing dinner would be a while Aidan made his way to his room and sat down at his desk. Grabbing his notebook he opened it to the same blank page he had stared at earlier. Picking up the pen he put it to the paper and began:

“A homeless person begs for change, shaking his little cup, and prays to his God that someone will drop a cent. A few people do, but the majority just walk on by, condemning him to all his mistakes, like they’re superior. They don’t even look down, and one of them even stepped on his foot, not even apologizing. Is it really all his fault that his life has turned out like this? When all he had was what he knew, and it only amounted to drug addicted parents that didn’t pay enough attention. It can’t be his fault, and no one wants to help him, no one even cares. The next time I see a homeless man or woman, I’ll make sure to give them something, it’s not their fault.”

Setting his pen aside he reread his entry and closed the notebook. This was his life, he was cursed to see all the happenings of the world; The happiest moments in someone’s life, the darkest hours of another. The only thing he couldn’t see, was his own future, his own up’s and down’s.

Aidan Blake Gardner, a seventeen year old boy with the world on his shoulders. And Liza Gardner, his mom, a widow and mother of one, trying her best and praying for all she’s worth that she does right by him.

As they sat down for dinner, they both nodded once to each other, a silent hello, a silent thank you. They both understand the struggles the other faces, and they would do anything to hold the other up.

For the summer that is sitting on the horizon is welcoming them with open arms and a sinister smile.