the art of

nine » empathy

"You know what's sad, is how we wander aimlessly throughout our days not realizing that everyone has their own pile of struggles that they carry upon their shoulders. We always compare our struggles with others, and try to make it seem like we're suffering more than they are."

"I-I-I-I wo-wond-der why we d-do that."

"Me too."

"I-I kn-now from per-r-s-son-a-al exp-p-perience that when I st-t-arted to bef-f-friend you, I tho-o-ught that you had it so much e-e-asier than I do b-b-e-ecause you c-c-an speak clearly. I nev-e-er considered that y-your family could be br-r-o-oken."

"It's okay, the same with me. After hearing the way you speak, I thought that your family would be caring and more nurturing and so I was jealous of you. I didn't know it was the opposite.."

We sat on the soccer fields and watched our school's team practice. We each had our own bag of lunch and we made our own little picnic. I was making flower crowns out of daisies that were growing secretly out of the holes and sides of the fake grass.

"Here put this on." I chuckled as he carefully picked up the crown, trying not to break the flowers, and placed it on his head.

"A-Am I cute y-yet?"

"You're a walking symbol of Tumblr now."

"What's T-T-Tumblr?"

"Excuse me. Did I hear that correctly? You don't know what Tumblr is? Oh, Alex, I'm about to immerse you into a world of unicorns and deep quotes." I grabbed his phone, downloaded the Tumblr app, and made him an account. "You're so very welcome."

"Hey, you never really explained what happened a week ago.." I squinted slightly to examine if the bruising had gone down on his eyes. "But if you don't want to talk about it now, it's okay."

He was silent for a while, as he twirled a small piece of a daisy in between his fingertips. "Y-You know w-w-h-hen the-e-rre is a mom-m-ment in l-life where you're in a constant rush? And you don't have a ch-ch-chance to anal-y-yze your emo-t-tions or take t-t-ime to think if you're act-t-tually ok-a-ay? Be-f-fore you're going to be in a state of exhausti-ti-tion? I guess my pa-a-r-erents had their bre-e-aki-n-ng point because they n-e-eve-r-r told me how they felt...

"Alex, breakfast is ready." Mother's voice called from downstairs and a shuffle of plates and the pop of the toaster blurred in with each other. Her eyes were swollen from crying last night—after another argument with Father. I walked slowly down the stairs and saw that she wasn't dressed up for work.

"A-Are you not go-go-oing to w-w-ork today?" I asked as I pulled a chair out from the table.

"No, am I not allowed to take a day off?" She retorted to me in a sudden voltage of anger.

"I d-d-didn't mean it like t-t-hat.. I was just w-w-wonder-r-ing. S-Sorry."

"It's as if I'm not a human in this house anymore." She poured herself a cup of coffee.

"Where's d-d-a-ad?"

"How should I know?"

A loud bang came from the garage door. "Well, now we know where he is." She quickly cleared the table and put my food on a paper plate. "Here, eat fast."

I was confused at how she was interacting. Why is she so adamant about Father not joining us? What is going on?

"I have th-therapy aft-e-eer school, mo-m-m."

"So?"

"So, I ne-need a ride..."

"And?"

"M-Mom, can you pl-please gi-ve-ve me a ride?"

"Why do I always have to take care of you? You're a grown man; take the bus."

"You know h-how I feel abo-ou-ut-ut being in public by my-myself..."

"I don't care. You need to grow up. I'm not going to be around forever. God, I wish my time would come sooner. All I've done is take care of you. You and your stupid stutter."

"Wh-hat?"

"Wh-hat? Wh-hat?" She imitated me. "Why can't you just speak normally? We've wasted hundreds and thousands of dollars on you. Why. Can't. You. Speak. Normally?"

"I just c-can't..."

A groggy mumble came from behind me as I turned around and saw a mess of a human being. His eyes were sunken in and his jaw was covered with ungroomed hair. His clothes were wrinkled and his breath smelled of alcohol. "You little bastard."

"What have I d-d-one? I haven't d-d-one any-any-anything!" My voice got louder as I was fumed with confusion and anger.

"This little shit has the courage to yell at me? Who do you think you are? You know what, son, we wish you were never born. If it wasn't for you, your Mother and I wouldn't want to kill each other."

"It isn't my fa-fa-ault."

He let out a rusty chuckle. "Then whose is it?"

"I do-n-n't kn-now."

He stepped closer to me and grabbed me by the collar of my shirt. "I'm sick of hearing your stuttering idiotic voice."

"I'm s-s-sorry."

"I said I'm sick of hearing it!" I flinched at the depth and volume of his voice. All of a sudden a blur of emotions poured down his eyes and all I could see was the fear in his pupils. The fear was hidden by the stress on the strain of his heart and I was in his way. He made a quick swing and collided with my face. My bones collapsed as I fell to the ground. Mother's voice choked on her guilt as she tried to pull him off of me. When she took him to the other room, she came back with a frown on her face. She went to the freezer and pulled out frozen peas.

"Here. Go put on some sunglasses and go to school."

I tried to pull myself up but my vision was blurred by the color of purple. The stairs seemed to be an endless maze for me as I took a step at a time.

Mother watched from below but soon gave up and grabbed her jacket. She left the house to go to work and she left her husband passed out on the couch. Alcohol intoxicated his consciousness.

Looking into the bathroom mirror, I saw two swollen, purple eyes, and a busted lip. I quickly put sunglasses on and placed the ice on my lip for five minutes. It went down slightly and the bleeding stopped. I went down and heard his snoring. Peering into the tiny crack of the curtain, I saw Alice's car parked outside.