Core Four: Freshman Year

Lex

I raced through the hall to the cafeteria.  My green, waist length hair flying in the Hawaiian breeze!  I was going to be the first one in line for lunch.  As I zoomed past the ceramics room, I heard a faint cry "Hey, wait for me!"  There was no time to waste, and I was not used to having to think of others.

My life was predominately lived alone.  Although my German parents resided in the same home on our coffee plantation, they lived in separate wings.  They had separated, though not divorced, about five years ago.  We had moved to Hawaii from Laguna Beach, California. All we did was trade one beachy location for another, but my dad discovered the Filipina women in Hawaii.  Their long, black hair and petite bodies were the exact opposite of my hearty, blonde Mom.  

At first, my mom tried to pretend like she didn't notice all the Filipina women my dad hired to run the coffee farm.  Then she saw my dad kissing a worker one day, and quickly told me "Your father and I are no longer together." They never fought, argued, or even showed remorse towards one another.  My mom seemed to click a switch and all her emotions towards my father were extinct.  Sometimes I feel like she closed her emotions off for me as well.

Although my father did not fight with my mother, he did take out his frustrations on the Filipina workers.  "What were you doing?" and "That's not correct!" were some of the kinder phrases he used.  I tried to tune him out, as my head couldn't wrap around ending a marriage so abruptly.  Instead of thinking about it for long, I took it upon myself to acquire hobbies.  

First, programming was my passion.  I fired up my Dell, and took to coding my own games.  Putting directions into phrases that the computer could understand was my favorite pastime.  I did it for years, and probably wouldn't have added any other hobbies if I hadn't caught my own reflection in our hallway mirror this past summer. 

I was about six feet tall now and had long, blonde hair that rested on my shoulders.  That part was acceptable, but my upper back and shoulders curved. Instead of muscles holding up my chest and shoulders, I was wimpy.  No muscles, slumped shoulders, and a hunchback.  I reasoned this could be why no one noticed me during middle school.  The longer I stared in the mirror, the sadder I felt.  How had I let myself become this person?  All I could do was attempt to change.

That night, I dragged out my dad's weight set from the garage.  He didn't notice me, but then later tried to blame it on a Filipina worker.

"Why was Carmelita in the garage?" He yelled into a cell phone.

"Dad! Dad!" I was yanking the sleeve of his t-shirt.  He hadn't seen me in the darkness of the garage, where I was hunting for more workout equipment. "It was me, Dad!" I finally shouted loudly.  For the first time in probably three years, he heard me.

"Oh, what were you doing out here?" His body odor filled my nostrils and I started coughing. In addition to abandoning his marriage, my father had also foregone basic sanitary practices.  He was truly a smell, old man.

"Lifting weights to, well, you know, build muscle tone," I sheepishly explained.  

"Oh, oh, I get it.  That's why I bought that set years ago.  Well, you're pretty small, so make sure you start light," he said as flipped the cell phone closed.  My father was also the type of person to use a flip phone no matter what new-fangled smartphone was available.

I did start light, and slowly over the next two months, I watch my muscles grow and pop.  I added oatmeal and beef to my diet, and watched my chest start to broaden. By August of that year, my new body required a larger shirt size.

"Mom!" I yelled excitedly.

"Yes? What is it?" She was busy pruning her roses that flourished in the Hawaii humidity.

"We need to go school shopping! I grew this year," I declared as I flexed my arms for her.  

Instead of her being in awe of my new physique, she chuckled.  "The way your shirt hugs you now is so funny!" My mom said through her thick German accent.  "You are big boy. We will shop." 

At every surf shop, which is the only place I like to buy t-shirts for school, I stayed in the dressing room for an inordinate amount of time.  I kept marveling at my new figure in the mirror.  Sculpted arms, shoulders, and chest stared at me. My stomach was in progress, but I figured it would happen eventually with my diet of oatmeal and beef.

"Mom, look at these guns!" I shouted as I opened the dressing room door.  My mom was nowhere to be found.  An older Hawaiian man stood at the cash register and looked at me with a confused expression. 

"Were you talking to me?" 

"No, my mom.  But she disappeared," I said while scanning the store for her presence.  

"Oh, the lady.  She went down to get coffee.  Left her credit card for you to buy what you want.  That was pretty rad," the cashier explained.  "My mom never did that for me."

I glanced away from him and retreated to the changing room.  I didn't want my mom to run off again, credit card or not.  I spent plenty of time alone as it is, but this was something I was proud to show her.  

I scooped up the shirts I wanted and paid with my mom's credit card. 

"Whoa, something happen? Your face is grrr!" Now I could clearly hear the pigeon accent in the cashier's voice.

"All good," I quipped.  I wasn't about to share my life story with a cashier.  

"All good man!!" The cashier echoed me.

I thought about all the time I spent alone now as I raced to the cafeteria.  That voice, from the kid named Elijah, caused me to turn back.  I didn't need to run. As much as I worried about being first in the lunch line,  I also knew that I needed friends.  I took the first step and turned around.