The World Through Various Eyes

[1] Reality and Fantasy (Alex's POV)

When I look back, it all seems like a blur.

The calm before the storm.

How unsuspecting I was and how methodical my movements were then still astonishes me.

If I knew what was to come, and the calamity that would ensue after this one November afternoon, I surely would have given a second thought to most of my actions. I walked without a care, living only in the present.

If only I could have seen the future.

But in retrospect, how could I have predicted that days after such a benign action like visiting a grocery store, my life would be completely altered? I was lugging a bag and resisting harsh wind on my way home, not contemplating my future. And besides, I never could have prevented those events- those catalysts of chaos.

With the heavy load in my grasp, I continued my trek from the store to the house. My sneakers crunched dry leaves, which crumpled beneath my feet with a satisfying sound. Above me, similar leaves fell off of their trees and fluttered to the ground. The sun was hidden behind clouds and a breeze was blowing through, scattering the leaves in my path every which way.

It was an overall pleasant day that almost made me want to get out of the house more. It was days like this that made me guilty that a majority of my time was spent couped up inside, on the computer or taking care of my father. In a normal family, that would have been an easy thing to fix: just get outside more, maybe even throw a football around with my dad.

But that wasn't my life. My life consisted of working from home and making a living for my father and me. Hours upon hours were spent in the dark, behind the bright screen of my computer. People would send me their technology-related requests, everything from IT help to coding and even hacking, and I would accomplish what they asked of me- for money.

I created a PayPal account that linked to a credit card my mom had bought me for my 10th birthday. It wasn't the smartest decision she had ever made, but it ended up working in my favor. Whenever I finished the requests, fairly decent sums of money would come pouring into my account.

This was my job. This was my life. Without me, I was certain that our family would be on the verge of poverty. We had been, once, right after my mother left. At that point, I had no knowledge of what income my computer skills could be raking in. Once I did though, and put them to good use, I pulled us out of the worst time in our lives.

We don't speak of those days anymore. We both did what we could to forget them, and I did what I could to prevent them from happening again.

It was then that I was reminded of this. Suddenly, I didn't want to come home at all. Seeing my dad was always difficult. I couldn't stand being reminded of what he had become, and where we had ended up.

My return time didn't rank high on my priority list then, as it was more likely that my father was not home anyway. While I was wrong about this, I wasn't completely wrong in my assumption.

He was there physically, yes, but technically, the father that I knew was long gone. He had been this way, ever since my mother had left us. Our life of harmony and peace was traded for one of turmoil and conflict. Now, he hardly payed attention to me, his own son.

My eyes caught the sight of his pitiful self, sprawled out on the futon- which naturally reeked of smoke and cheap beer. Sometimes I wondered who was really running that household- the adult or his son.

Nevertheless, I walked over to the island in the kitchen, and heaved a tired sigh as I released the weight of the food onto the counter. I also took note of the fact that my father was still out-cold. He didn't as much as bother to acknowledge my return. Had he even known I had left?

"Probably," I reasoned softly, though it didn't make me feel much better.

The only reason I had to make a trip to the grocery store was because my dysfunctional father was too incapacitated to do it himself.

He was rarely in a proper state, whether aesthetically, physically or mentally. Why child services hadn't revoked his possession of his only son was beyond me!

Despite my feeling of obligation to stay awake (because God knows my father wouldn't be assuming that duty), I found myself suddenly exhausted from that day's work. As if school wasn't enough of a chore.

My weak arms ached from lugging so many bags from the store to my house. I hadn't gotten a driver's license yet, and putting the stuff in my bicycle basket would have resulted in it tipping over and preventing me from properly riding it, so I had walked the whole way. All the way there, and all the way back. A total of about 5.6 miles, according to a paper map I had used.

I stretched, which was followed by a loud yawn. I removed my glasses. I usually didn't wear them. They were thick, round and rimless, except for the top of them. I despised those things, and vowed that whenever possible, I would wear my contacts.

But that day, I had run out of contact solution. I rubbed my eyes, and for once I was thankful that I hadn't worn contacts since I didn't have to take them out. Without looking in a mirror I knew there were prominent dark circles underneath my eyes, which stung slightly, with colorful spots fading in and out.

Their eyelids were warm and heavy, and it became increasingly harder to keep them open. I made my way from the kitchen to the living room, and settled down on a nearby couch.

My legs found the table across from it, and I reclined into a relaxing slouch- too relaxing. I could feel myself drifting to sleep, slowly slipping away from reality. I allowed myself to do this, as it was a much needed break.

"Just forget the world, Alex." a voice in my head mused.
And that's exactly what I did. Nothing mattered anymore then, but the comfort of rest. Within a few minutes, I too was fast asleep.