But What If I Was Better? | Mob Joins UA

15 | The Wandering Boy

     The repetitive turning of waves along the ocean shoreline created a pleasant sound for those near it to enjoy. The occasional seagull squawked and screeched in the distance. The warm wind blew in the sweet smell of salt and sea life.

     It was so quiet other than these sounds. On that empty beach was a small house, old and warn as though it hadn't been fixed in years. But right up beside it in the grass was parked the small Arataka family car. Inside the old, darkened shack of a house, my parents murmured lowly with an aunt of ours. It was about Grandpa. I just knew it. We were all gathered here because of him, after all... Simply because he didn't want to spend his last days all alone. Even if he was surrounded by people who hated him, he preferred that over no one at all.

     Trying to mind my own business in this depressing house wasn't doing me any good. It was nothing but constant gossip in the dark, unlit shack. The way my dad and aunt reminisced on all the ways they had been abandoned or abused by the old man. How his terrible nature had gone on to haunt them. This kind of talk was simply no fun at all. After a while of just sitting around in the dark, I stood up and headed outside. The sloshing of the ocean was far more preferable than this onslaught of misery.

...

     It was nice outside. The warm air freed a few strands of my hair, allowing them to tickle my face. I never cared for my hair anymore, instead letting it grow out and go wherever it pleased. I brushed the annoying loose strands behind my ears and sat down on the old deck, which was made up of soggy and caving boards. Beside me, leaned against another post, sat my grandpa.

     The murmuring from inside was so faint now. We could only hear their voices on occasion. It was a little uncomfortable, now that I thought about my situation, to sit alone beside the very monster my family despised.

     A monster he was not any more. Instead, he was but an old, frail man.

     The two of us sat staring at the bleak, cloudy gray horizon line for a while with the same, dead inside look in our eyes. I always felt a little uncomfortable whenever relatives pointed out how similarly I looked to my grandpa. Like I now carried a part of the burden that was the old man's shame. Like I was somehow, somewhat responsible for everyone's bad moods.. simply by reminding people of him with my looks alone. I was eighteen by this point. Old enough to finally understand the suffering my dad and his sister endured, but not yet wise enough to know what to do about it. So, my best course of action was to simply ignore everything until the old man eventually keeled over and everyone could go back home. Back to forgetting him.

     "You're biting your nails a lot..." I tore my fingers away from my mouth reflexively, having not even noticed what I was doing until the old man mentioned it. "Mmm.. bad habit."

     I responded in a meek, scratchy voice, since I hadn't spoken much in a while. "Sorry.." What else was I supposed to say?! "(Yo, old man! Just wanted to remind you how terrible a person you are, even though what you said literally had nothing to do with your past!)" Nahhh! I couldn't just do that! The old guy at least deserved some level of decency! And if he wasn't going to get it from anyone else, then..well, may as well be me.

     He'd apologized in his own special way in the past anyways..on several occasions. Everyone just preferred to ignore those apologies.

     "Hhhh..." A deep huff. The old man laid his arms on his knees, leaning his head against the beam to his left. "They won't stop talkin' in there, won't they?" The old man chuckled. I mirrored somewhat by leaning against the beam to my right. We both stared together at the cloud filled sky. The tall grass tickled my legs which hung off the small porch. I didn't really care enough to correct it. "...I'm guessing you've already been told all the horror stories of my youth, huh?"