How To Save A Life

"Home"

They left Mike's room, closing the door so no one wandered in. They walked through the little living area and kitchens out the door and into the hall. The hall was long, narrow and stuffy. There were doors on either side, about two feet from each other. Every room was set up similar Mike's; some with just a bedroom and others with more than his. Yet, none had a bathroom. The boys and the girls on each floor share one. Randy and Mike consciously walked towards the bathroom.

                The bathroom has about 3 sinks with mirrors on the wall and three showers. Every mornings it's a hassle to get ready. Mike always had to elbow his way towards the mirror and sink and then the shower stalls. He always felt bad for Maci; he couldn't imagine what her situation was like in the morning. 

                When they entered this morning, it was more crowded than usual. Three of the biggest guys were in front of the mirrors, working endlessly on their hair. Steam was rising from each stall, meaning they were all in use and the little boys would couldn't really fend from themselves were in like, sure to get the cold water. 

                Mike throat was burning, the words he wanted to tell Randy waiting to be told. This just wasn't the place. No one talked on the bathroom because nothing was private and no one felt safe. 

                And that's how Mike's "home" runs, (and he using the term "home" loosely); by fear, threat, lack of privacy and privilege, and shame.

                Mike silently counted the seconds, minutes, passing by until him and Randy got a shower stall. It was about 10 minutes when the little boys filled out, their hair dripping wet already in clothes. Randy and Mike ushered in like they were part of a factor line. Mike turned on the water, hoping it would be hot; it made him shiver.

                “So, tell me about it bro?” Randy said, his voice somewhat muffled by the pitter patter of the water.

                “When we leave.” Mike insisted. He didn’t like talking in the bathroom, especially about the roof because he never knew who would hear and if his sanctuary would be taken from him.

                He finished washing his hair, soaking in the quiet buzz as boys continued to get ready and not say much. More than often, it’s so crowded that Mike brushes his teeth in the shower. He wet his brush and cleaned his teeth. Then he dried off and wrapped himself in a towel, taking his clothes with him back to his room. He parted ways with Randy, just until breakfast was called.

                Back in his room, he went through his,(if you could really call it one) closet. He had about five pairs of jeans, one pairs of sweat pants, three shirts, and two jackets put away in a box in the corner of his room. He rummaged through and found a light wash pair of pants with a few holes, blue shirt, varsity jacket and dirty, warn converse sneakers.

                He messed with his hair and looked with his reflection in the window. It wasn’t easy to notice; he looked transparent and lost. He let his mind wander and he didn’t know what he was thinking about. Nothing in particular, it was just like he was absent from the world around him.

                The loud ringing of the bell, that’s the old school way that calls everyone for breakfast reeled him back from his thoughts. He grabbed his skateboard and ran into Randy with his in the hall again. They walked toward right, opposite of the bathrooms at the end of the hall to the left, and descended two flights of stairs. There were kids thumping down the stairs above him and it’s was crowded. He was squished in a tight spot and was surrounded by everyone as they all headed in the same direction. It was hard to keep sane in the stairwell because the amount of noise, kids talking and the hundreds of feet against the metal stairs, caused him to have a headache and even lose his sense of directions.

                He just followed the crowd. The stairs emerged in a long hallway, like the one Mike’s room lets out to, yet it’s brighter and more spacious. There were actually old pictures of the home and kids and owners on the wall in what Mrs. Turner called “antique” frames, but they really are just old and need to be dusted a few times.

                The dining room was nothing compared to the rest of the building.

                The kids flooded into the room through a big opening in the wall that was nothing more than a whole. An immense space greeted them.

                The dining room is about 100 feet long and 50 feet wide. A single table sits in the middle of the room, running about the same length. There are at least 300 chairs, not one of them matching. Each one is unique in its own way yet they’re all elegant; too elegant to belong in the home, according to Mike.

                The walls are a rusty copper color, that’s both bright and dark. The lighting is provided by two big, old fashioned hanging chandeliers placed at equal distances, ten feet above the table. Sometimes they flicker, but the mood always remains happy.

                Mike and Randy consciously take their seats, Maci and her friend, Tiffany. As long as any of them can remember, these seats have been assigned. It’s better for them, for Mike, because they don’t have to come into any confrontation.