I thought I'd gotten what I'd wanted. I destroyed his side of the room. Put a hole through his wall, and tore all our pictures down. When the anger subsided all that was left was the ruin I'd caused. Dad stood in the doorway silently staring as I sobbed. He wouldn't let Ma comfort me, she stood helplessly in his shadow, and I cried. Dad made me leave his part of the room that way, as a reminder. For who, of what? There was no sense to it, to any of this, but it did remind me of the guilt I carried.
On Sundays I went with Ma to church. In that confessional booth I poured my heart out about my hatred for Stanley, and the emptiness he left in my life. How I wish he'd come home and how I wanted to punch him in the face if he ever did. All the Father had to say was
"I didn't think you believed in God,".
Of course I did. Who else could create something as divine as my mind, and who else would punish me for it. In the few months before I left for college I found myself in a dark hallway of time. I'd stay out late at night, looking for trouble in Stanley's leather jacket he left behind. Ma cried to me, begged me not to go down this road. She'd already lost one son. He wasn't dead, he was just gone. That was the bitter part. He could be here right now, with us, we could be happy. Whose fault is that? Mine of course. Maybe it was his. He was the one who sabotaged my future. He was so selfish, and as always it's my price to pay.
I'd stayed out all night, sitting on the beach with my bottle of whiskey I stole from Dad. The whole world spun around me, lights flashing, waves crashing. I wasn't numb to any of it but it was so overwhelming I might as well have been. I drifted place to place until I was at the school. The gymnasium was empty, the silence felt like static.
"God!" I yelled, my voice echoing off the walls, throwing my words back into my face.
"God if you're here! Show me! Smite me! DO SOMETHING!" I yelled, sloshing my drink around. The winners from the science fair were encased in glass at the front of the gymnasium. My reflection in it was rough and overgrown. I didn't recognize me. I couldn't even see Stanley in myself. Good. I had enough reminders. Music started playing ominously over the loud speakers. A slow song that sounded right out of the 1920s.
"God?" I asked, my voice choking. I never thought he'd answer. He never did before. The music was hypnotizing, I felt my body being pulled by it. I found myself in the middle of the gym doing a slow waltz by myself. Suddenly the glass cases shattered one by one. I didn't pull away from my dance, I just spun as flames began to erupt in the bleachers. How was this happening? Why didn't I care? It felt like all the chaos inside was finding its way out into reality. Spilling out of me. The tune kept going as a fire alarm blared and sprinklers doused me in water.
I pulled off the heavy jacket, leaving it on the floor, regaining control of my body. I ran to the door, looking back at the scene behind me. Did I do this? I looked to the sky. Or was it you? I ran for my life, trophy cases and lockers smashing and slamming behind me. I burst into the night, able to breathe, as the school caught fire.
"You didn't smite me," I said to God. And he didn't, smite me, which was the only answer I was looking for. I walked home, thoughtless, for the first time in my life. In the shower I scrubbed and rinsed until the water stopped running black. For the first time I shaved, and cut my hair.
In the morning, when it was time to leave for church, my mom gasped.
"There he is, my Stanford,". She gave me a kiss on the cheek.
"They're looking for that no good lowlife brother of yours," my Dad spit, his words like poison.
"I don't want to hear anymore of this!" my Mom yelled back. They got into another one of their fights, Shermie was crying in the other room. That feeling of chaos was washing over me as I picked up Dad's newspaper.
"Local teen Stanley Pines wanted in connection to Arson at local highschool" right on the front page was a picture of his jacket I'd left, and the whiskey.
Consider us even. I don't know where that thought came from, but it was right.
