Categories > Original > Drama > Separation
May 16, 1979
Things had changed. Hell, everything had changed; a lot of it he still didn’t even know about. The fight had set him back months, but at the moment, he was too tired to care. The pain medication, heavy as it was, wasn’t really helping. Instead it left him blissfully half-stoned, just foggy enough not to care over much about what might be happening to him personally, or to anyone else at large. Because of this, he hardly noticed as the van pulled parallel to the curb and came to a halt. There was a notable absence of second automobile in the narrow driveway, a yellow bicycle chained to the basket ball hoop’s pole. The bike looked familiar, but the reference would not come. The automatic platform being lowered registered as only a vague detail at the back of his mind. Half curious, he turned his head to notice two familiar-looking people standing in the doorway; one huge and blonde, the other stocky and brunette. Except it wasn’t the brunette he’d anticipated. Alex and Dan stood, their smiles genuine but contrasting sharply with the discomfort in their eyes. (Dan’s- the bike was Dan’s.) Where Charles had gotten to, Ray could only guess. Probably inside; maybe with Misty and Seth.
“Hey guys.”
Ray was proud he’d managed not to slur; the bridgework and medication tended to make intelligible speech difficult. They were smiling, though striving not to stare. Ray gave a weak smile of his own; a crooked, helpless, rumpled up-curve that hinted at the shrug he could not give. He knew he looked better than when they’d last seen him unconscious and in pieces several months ago, but the improvement was probably marginal at best. Skinny and scarred, what little muscled he’d once possessed had disintegrated to wiry shreds of sinew. The remains of an unfortunate haircut long grown out to an embarrassing length only heightened the distortion of a broken nose and fractured jaw. It had been a bit of a shock to Ray himself when Dr. Karl had finally permitted him a mirror. It was like looking at his brother- there was a family resemblance, but he no longer looked like himself.
The chair was probably the most glaringly obvious mark of his injury. The Rainbows in his back had been damaged during the front yard throw down and Doctor’s Karl and Xerxes were still perfecting replacements. Until then, it was back to wheels for him. After the limited freedom of mobility that crutches allowed, it was a frustrating setback. It could have been worse. The Chair (he tended to think of it in capitals) was a sporty cherry red racer instead of the clunky, rear-handled stroller the hospital had offered. Mustering strength and thoughts, Ray grasped the wheel rims and pushed. He could do this much.
“Ray,” Alex smiled, and knelt to give him an extremely careful hug. “Welcome home, buddy.”
Ray returned it clumsily, the movement in his arms and hands limited by the damaged Rainbow between his shoulder blades. Dan was next, and peeking shyly around the doorway stood Misty with Seth at her elbow. Seth bent for a brief embrace, but rather than give him a hug herself, Misty chose to take one of his hands for a moment. Her smile genuine but quiet, she squeezed his hand once and then stepped back.
Although little had changed about the house, a few things had been altered here and there. A couple of knick-knacks seemed to me missing from the living room, and some of the furniture had been rearranged in order to create spaces more than wide enough to accommodate a wheelchair. A few ‘parking spaces’ had even been worked into the layout of the room; adding an improvised fourth seat to the sofa and a shared viewing spot with the beaten old recliner.
The stairs, however, posed a problem; even had there been space to add a ramp, it still would have been far too steep. This being the case, Seth and Dan took Ray’s minimal belongings upstairs for him. The clothes pole of the closet now hopelessly out of reach, they did their best to place as many items as they could in the bureau. Evidently Ray’s parents had replaced much of his wardrobe. A curious number of Oxford shirts and sweater vests had usurped the old cartoon T-shirts and hooded sweatshirts Ray had once favored. The Favorite Jeans were also missing as were the amusingly patterned boxers, replaced with drab khakis and some disturbingly retro blue-striped drawers. Even his socks had not been spared. Seth boggled briefly at the little rolls of white, black, and navy.
“This ain’t right…” he remarked before dumping them into the lowest drawer.
“This is stuff my grandpa used to wear,” Dan added, eyeing the vintage shorts with distaste. “Please tell me he hasn’t got a powder blue sport coat?”
“Haven’t found one yet.”
“Makes me wish he’d forgotten a few more things here.”
“Yeah.”
Dinner was an oddly quiet affair. Conversation rose up and receded wavelike as each took their turn attempting to get Ray to say something and ultimately failed. Talking without him adding anything felt too much like willfully ignoring him and the result was awkward at best. Despite Alex having made Ray’s favorite (a veggie-heavy stir-fry with beef and ginger), Ray ate less than he said, pushing the food listlessly around his bowl with a fork since chopsticks were currently beyond his dexterity. In the end, he wound up dozing, head lolling on one shoulder, before everyone else had finished. Without a word, Alex rose from the table, scooped Ray out of the chair, and carried him upstairs to his room.
“What did they do to him?” Misty blurted, finally shattering the silence as Alex came back downstairs.
“Tried to turn him into an accountant,” grumbled Seth around a mouthful of bokchoy.
Alex raised a quizzical eyebrow.
“They’ve got him dressing like my grandfather.” Dan reiterated. Alex said nothing, reclaiming his seat at the table and staring meditatively at his unfinished meal.
“Reminds me of when we first met him. Those first few weeks, he was so shy, so guarded… I’d never seen a kid wound so tight and yet so silent.”
“Guess he fell back into old habits,” Dan commented.
“Guess so,” Alex replied, absently stabbing a piece of beef. Despite his promise to himself that he was NOT going to be anything but supportive and smiling upon Ray’s return, his throat had grown uncomfortably tight and little red-hot needles were pricking behind his eyes. Swallowing beef and tears at once nearly choked him, but he managed it. “But he’s home now.”
Things had changed. Hell, everything had changed; a lot of it he still didn’t even know about. The fight had set him back months, but at the moment, he was too tired to care. The pain medication, heavy as it was, wasn’t really helping. Instead it left him blissfully half-stoned, just foggy enough not to care over much about what might be happening to him personally, or to anyone else at large. Because of this, he hardly noticed as the van pulled parallel to the curb and came to a halt. There was a notable absence of second automobile in the narrow driveway, a yellow bicycle chained to the basket ball hoop’s pole. The bike looked familiar, but the reference would not come. The automatic platform being lowered registered as only a vague detail at the back of his mind. Half curious, he turned his head to notice two familiar-looking people standing in the doorway; one huge and blonde, the other stocky and brunette. Except it wasn’t the brunette he’d anticipated. Alex and Dan stood, their smiles genuine but contrasting sharply with the discomfort in their eyes. (Dan’s- the bike was Dan’s.) Where Charles had gotten to, Ray could only guess. Probably inside; maybe with Misty and Seth.
“Hey guys.”
Ray was proud he’d managed not to slur; the bridgework and medication tended to make intelligible speech difficult. They were smiling, though striving not to stare. Ray gave a weak smile of his own; a crooked, helpless, rumpled up-curve that hinted at the shrug he could not give. He knew he looked better than when they’d last seen him unconscious and in pieces several months ago, but the improvement was probably marginal at best. Skinny and scarred, what little muscled he’d once possessed had disintegrated to wiry shreds of sinew. The remains of an unfortunate haircut long grown out to an embarrassing length only heightened the distortion of a broken nose and fractured jaw. It had been a bit of a shock to Ray himself when Dr. Karl had finally permitted him a mirror. It was like looking at his brother- there was a family resemblance, but he no longer looked like himself.
The chair was probably the most glaringly obvious mark of his injury. The Rainbows in his back had been damaged during the front yard throw down and Doctor’s Karl and Xerxes were still perfecting replacements. Until then, it was back to wheels for him. After the limited freedom of mobility that crutches allowed, it was a frustrating setback. It could have been worse. The Chair (he tended to think of it in capitals) was a sporty cherry red racer instead of the clunky, rear-handled stroller the hospital had offered. Mustering strength and thoughts, Ray grasped the wheel rims and pushed. He could do this much.
“Ray,” Alex smiled, and knelt to give him an extremely careful hug. “Welcome home, buddy.”
Ray returned it clumsily, the movement in his arms and hands limited by the damaged Rainbow between his shoulder blades. Dan was next, and peeking shyly around the doorway stood Misty with Seth at her elbow. Seth bent for a brief embrace, but rather than give him a hug herself, Misty chose to take one of his hands for a moment. Her smile genuine but quiet, she squeezed his hand once and then stepped back.
Although little had changed about the house, a few things had been altered here and there. A couple of knick-knacks seemed to me missing from the living room, and some of the furniture had been rearranged in order to create spaces more than wide enough to accommodate a wheelchair. A few ‘parking spaces’ had even been worked into the layout of the room; adding an improvised fourth seat to the sofa and a shared viewing spot with the beaten old recliner.
The stairs, however, posed a problem; even had there been space to add a ramp, it still would have been far too steep. This being the case, Seth and Dan took Ray’s minimal belongings upstairs for him. The clothes pole of the closet now hopelessly out of reach, they did their best to place as many items as they could in the bureau. Evidently Ray’s parents had replaced much of his wardrobe. A curious number of Oxford shirts and sweater vests had usurped the old cartoon T-shirts and hooded sweatshirts Ray had once favored. The Favorite Jeans were also missing as were the amusingly patterned boxers, replaced with drab khakis and some disturbingly retro blue-striped drawers. Even his socks had not been spared. Seth boggled briefly at the little rolls of white, black, and navy.
“This ain’t right…” he remarked before dumping them into the lowest drawer.
“This is stuff my grandpa used to wear,” Dan added, eyeing the vintage shorts with distaste. “Please tell me he hasn’t got a powder blue sport coat?”
“Haven’t found one yet.”
“Makes me wish he’d forgotten a few more things here.”
“Yeah.”
Dinner was an oddly quiet affair. Conversation rose up and receded wavelike as each took their turn attempting to get Ray to say something and ultimately failed. Talking without him adding anything felt too much like willfully ignoring him and the result was awkward at best. Despite Alex having made Ray’s favorite (a veggie-heavy stir-fry with beef and ginger), Ray ate less than he said, pushing the food listlessly around his bowl with a fork since chopsticks were currently beyond his dexterity. In the end, he wound up dozing, head lolling on one shoulder, before everyone else had finished. Without a word, Alex rose from the table, scooped Ray out of the chair, and carried him upstairs to his room.
“What did they do to him?” Misty blurted, finally shattering the silence as Alex came back downstairs.
“Tried to turn him into an accountant,” grumbled Seth around a mouthful of bokchoy.
Alex raised a quizzical eyebrow.
“They’ve got him dressing like my grandfather.” Dan reiterated. Alex said nothing, reclaiming his seat at the table and staring meditatively at his unfinished meal.
“Reminds me of when we first met him. Those first few weeks, he was so shy, so guarded… I’d never seen a kid wound so tight and yet so silent.”
“Guess he fell back into old habits,” Dan commented.
“Guess so,” Alex replied, absently stabbing a piece of beef. Despite his promise to himself that he was NOT going to be anything but supportive and smiling upon Ray’s return, his throat had grown uncomfortably tight and little red-hot needles were pricking behind his eyes. Swallowing beef and tears at once nearly choked him, but he managed it. “But he’s home now.”
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