Alexander's Diary

I Promise

"A piece of you
The whole of me
What you desire
I aim to be

What you have done
I wish I can
A boy's desire to be
A man"

His room felt so much larger than it did that night. The plain beige walls of Alexander's room no longer seemed cramped and nearly depleted of air. It was as if his parents remodeled the room in his absence: he no longer could feel anything familiar about it. He was a stranger in his own home. It had been three days since he had returned from the Hospital.

"Was that supposed to be about Daddy?" His mother asked while her hand rubs his upper back. It was her way of forcing comfort. It was also a signal to Alexander, that she was putting on a show. He couldn't  help but feel a bit patronized given the situation, yet he knew his mother was only trying to do what she thought was best.  His bandaged right hand rested on his fresh new white sheets, as he and his mother sat, waiting on his father to take him away; he was told that there was no need to pack anything. He only held onto his new diary, neatly placed in his lap. His mother secretly replaced it for him. In her own way, she supported him in expressing himself, and seemed to quite enjoy hearing his poetry. He didn't feel betrayed by his mother for reading the poems he always skimmed over in his old diary. She knew he was hiding something, and he felt more guilty than angry about it. Mainly, because she was right.  

His eyes slowly skimmed up to the acoustic ceiling; its bumby surface meant to aid in keeping his screams silent, as he imagined breathing in its asbestos lining. " Mama, I'm scared. I don't  wanna go to this...clinic. What're they gonna do to me? Why do I have to go away? Are y'all just ashamed of me?" His mother grew silent. He knew she was reaching for an answer, yet for a brief moment, he could no longer keep his bottled up emotions from flooding out."Since when did Daddy trust in what the "white man" had to say anyway." While attempting to state this in a deprecating tone, his voice croaked as tears began to fill his eyes out of frustration." Why do I have to go to some weird place, we ain't even heard of before?"

Silence fell on the room for a moment. "Baby, me and your father prayed, and prayed about this. He's only trying to do what's  best for you. Sometimes we don't have all the answers, Alex. The night you hurt yourself, me and your father never left your bedside. He didn't care about his business, or reputation around this old rusted town. We talked to the doctors and they were teaching us about depression, and all these things that we didn't really understand. They mentioned the O.A.O.C. and..." Alexander sensed the growing  conviction within his mother's voice. Her soft raspy voice grew more stern with her explanation. He felt as if he were seeing his mother for the first time: this ambulatory skeleton of a woman that sat before him. The bags under her eyes were deep, her hair in a messy bun. Alexander knew this was the repercussion of his actions, and the guilt was a knot in his gut the he was beginning to give up on untangling. He knew she and his father blamed themselves for this, he couldn't even let her finish before he rushed to hug her." Mama, it's  not your fault. I'm gonna get better, I promise. I won't let this happen again. I promise mama."

Their brief consolment was interrupted by a sudden hard knock on his doorframe. His father stood in the doorway, with two button eyes peering from under his coat. It was Joe. "Come on boy. Lets go." His father quickly shouted, and headed back out. He could tell he didn't really want to say much. After his father bolted, Joe made a run towards Alexander, gripping his brother around his leg as tight as he could. " It's alright Joe. I'll be back soon baby bro. Ok?" "OK." A little voice squeaked from his pants leg. He simply patted his baby brother on in his back, hugged his mother one last time, and hurried out towards the door. He didn't feel like getting smacked in the back of his head. So he quickly bolted outside to keep his father from waiting.

It was as if time grew still on his walk down the sidewalk towards the driveway. A dewy early morning in September, the crisp air of Autumn kisses his almond  skin, his rough dark curls feel slightly moistened from the morning mist. It was humid, it felt as if it were going to rain soon. His neighborhood seemed almost completely vacant. There were no people, not even cars outside this early in the morning. Every house on the street looked completely similar to him. He turned around to his mother and baby brother, they sat solemnly at the door step, waving to him goodbye. He felt a sense of pride surge through him with an underlying fear nesting deep within  his heart. As if he were being drafted, and his family was honorably sending him off to war. He stood at the door of their brand new beige Chevrolet Nova, with a black vinyl top; it was his father's pride and joy. He waved to them, one last time.

Alexander didn't know what to expect from this O.A.O.C. Clinic, but he couldn't wait to show his family, his mom, that he was getting better. Then maybe on that day the knot of guilt within his gut, could finally be cut free.