100 Memories Of You And Me ✔

Moment 5

My second family ~ Yuri

The stands burst into cheer. Then came the flood of people onto the field. Johnathan barely caught his sister as she jumped on him. Football was his first love, but his sister was a close second. They were barely a year apart and he could not imagine how horrible his life would be without her. His father followed at a much slower pace but the gentle smile had made all those horrible fights seem worthwhile.

It was not as if his father was a bad man. In fact, according to many, he was inherently good. Rory Jones had an incredible career in the military and frequently went away to serve his country. Both his children described as successful and polite. The kind of children who threw everyone a smile.

I stayed behind watching the celebration. In a town full of definitions I fit into no category. Still in an awful attempt to be a part of something I watched football games. I watched them for him and that moment where he would throw me a disarming smile. I searched for that smile and we both knew we were safe for now.

The floodlights highlighted the world I only had a glimpse of and then I squashed down those feelings because I knew to a certain extent I was different from them. My brother tugged my shirt and, his eyes begging me to go home. Our ten years difference sometimes strained our relationship but most of the time I was his superhero.

I had to be good in order to provide a good example to him. I was trying so hard but as always, sin was so much easier to love and follow. The school grounds faded quickly as I drove closer to the main town street. Our shop was typical of a migrant family. A corner store that sold almost everything and catered to the needs of the whole of two migrant families in the town. There were rumours of more coming in but I guess it was just us for now.

It was home and I liked to think that in this town of blurry definitions, the apartment above it is where I belonged. I dreamt of things and places but mostly I dreamt of him. His smile, touch and gentle kisses at the dam which did not exist.

I walked over to the Jones house early in the morning. I never met Mrs Jones but I think she would have liked me too. Mr Jones was out in the garden. He was a huge man intimidating to most people. I would have been more intimidated if Mr Jones hadn't taught me to play the piano. 

Strong, traditional stuff. I let myself in and sat down at the piano. My fingers running through scales with drill-like precision. The hammering sound and running notes grouped into fours. Up and down. I stare out the window as I played. Music did not move me, I was not passionate about it but I escaped into it only because it demanded my whole attention. Mr Jones trained to be a piano tuner a long time ago. Before serving he wanted to play at Carnegie Hall. 

Mr Jones to me represented what I could have. He was the American Dream. The raining sound of notes that come one after the other was constructed with the mechanical nature of my playing. Scales took an hour if I did them properly, which I did. I refused short-cuts and I would not hold onto them now. Music is brutal even if you don't enjoy playing an instrument. I played revised and played again. Our town didn't have a dedicated music teacher so I ended up playing most of the time.

When people talk about deeply connecting with music it was something I did not understand. It was there, notes and tones. Mr Jones shouted corrections from the window and I corrected them. It was simple yet so frustrating.

Gale wrapped her arms around me, in a half-way hug. Her soccer uniform was filled with dirt and grass stains. I kissed her briefly on the lips. It was platonic enough even if everyone else thought we were a couple. We were too volatile to be of any good for each other.  I had strong opinions and she had even more uncompromising ones. 

She made song requests and listened to me playing. Her bum barely fit next to mine on the stool but we made it work. Johnathan joined us a few minutes later and sat on my other side. We talked about music and Halloween and life in general. They were like my family in ways my parents and little brother could not fulfil. I reminded myself I was different. I had to even in moments of warmth.

The three of us had started piano lessons together. We grew up together. They came over when the shop got busy and tutored my brother in English just so he wouldn't have the same struggles I did. I stayed for supper. This space was just as familiar as my own. They said grace and I closed my eyes only to be respectful. 

We ate and talked. Johnathan talking our heads off about the football game and Gale speaking just as fast over him about how completely unfair the sports budget was to soccer. We stayed away from big questions because just like my family they never really talked about what was important assuming everyone knew it already. 

Except for sex. After a quick look at sex-ed curriculum, Mr Jones sat us all down and gave us the most brutally honest and terrifying conversation I had in that house. It was not about abstinence or religion.

I helped wash the dishes and stole a quick kiss from Johnathan when no one was looking. The world looked alright from this angle. I knew it would not be so forever. Just enough to dream about kisses at the dam until the next one.

No one knew and when they did the rest of us swore to silence. The Jones were always my second family. I could not hate them even when Mr Jones took Johnathan away from me because you sometimes stick it out with family and hope for the best.

I was in the middle. Quietly keeping everyone informed about everyone else because they allowed me to dream. Dream about fulfilling my parent's dream, becoming a doctor, marrying the woman of my dreams and sweet, innocent kisses by the dam. I guess they showed me that although racism existed we should rise above it by acknowledging our differences were there and needed to be addressed. 

So only to have them together again at Johnathan's funeral was painful. Because there were no dinners at the table or flimsy conversation. The dream felt broken but their hugs felt as warm as ever. So we pick up pieces and people and dream again. Because without dreams we never learnt to be comfortable enough with ourselves to fit-in. And as a very naive brother once told me "Everyone wants to fit in."

A/N: Thank you for being so patient. The last moment is coming out soon. It needs a lot more work. So I hope you enjoyed this. A quick thank you to all those who have picked up this story after it has been completed, I know it is a lot to take in. See you in the next moment.