It was mid-October and the leaves were just beginning to fall. The cold air, mixed with the menthol cigarette I had between my fingers, stung my throat like a thousand little swords. Who am I do you ask? My name is Callum J. Fields, just a typical 18 year old from a small upstate New York town. Shackport is where I have spent my entire life. Here we have more cows than people, but hospitality is never scarce. Our small town has a few shops, two traffic lights (parades were held for both) and was home to Upstate Community College. As the county seat, we are also home to the county courthouse and correctional facilities.
My mother is a corrections officer at the county jail just outside of town. My father took his own life when I was five. My memory of that night is still blurry. We were home alone while mom did her nightly rounds. Him saying goodnight and putting me to bed are the only things I can remember clearly. My mother never speaks of how he did it, only that he was a good man with his own demons. My father served our community for many years as a patrolman before enlistment, and well after he returned from the middle east. He and my mom actually met at the jail when he was transporting an inmate. That's a tale for a different time though, as this story is mine.
The soles of my shoes scuffed across the ground as I traversed the long walkway from the campus, cigarette in hand. I had received my high school diploma almost 3 years early, and already have my Associates in Liberal Arts. I'm currently working on my Bachelors in Psychology. Everyone in town thinks I am some sort of genius. To be quite honest when there are more students in your school than there is teeth, surpassing the rest of the class was a cake-walk. Currently I continue to excel in my coursework. My journey proceeded down the lamp post lined Main St. My destination was the local cafe, Green Trea. My mom her and her partner would be there since their shift starts soon at the jail.
"Hey Baby!!" my mom exclaimed from a table out front of the cafe. As expected her and her partner, Mike, were enjoying their pre-shift coffee.
"Mom come on," My voice was hoarse from the cigarette I had just disposed of right around the corner. " I am 18 years old I am not a baby anymore." she rose from her chair, and embraced me firmly in a bear hug.
"You'll always be my baby." she cooed. Suddenly her expression soured. "You've been smoking again haven't you?" My mom angrily acknowledged, no doubt smelling it on my breath. "Callum Joseph, what the fuck did I tell you about smoking? You want to end up like my father? Dead before you can even meet your grandkids? Huh?" My mom was a short but fear striking woman, with no filter at all. Life wasn't easy for her and it shows in her personality. I had to distract her from this or I would be on this sidewalk until the end of time.
"Hey Mike hows it going?" Mike nodded to me in response.
"I'm doing fine Cal." He spoke. "How 'bout you?" Mike was a large black man, and pretty much like an uncle to me. He was a towering 6'4" and 270 pounds of pure muscle. He and my mother attended and graduated the academy together years ago. Mike never married though and had no family here on the east coast. Instead he was always involved in my family's events. He was my fathers best man, he was there the night I was born and was always over for holidays and birthdays.
"Excuse me!" Mom chimed in. "I will not be ignored!"
"Oh my mom look at the time. Shouldn't you be heading over to the Lock Up?" I quickly diverted again. I held my phone up to my mom showing her the time on my lock screen.
"Oh fuck me!" she groveled, realizing that she should of left minutes ago.
"Ew mom," I joked "No one wants any of that."
"Oh shut up." She replied obviously annoyed. "This isn't over either, I'll see you after work tonight. I should be back by 11-ish." the tone of her voice was beginning to lighten up.
"Come on MJ," Mike spoke. "Them inmates ain't going anywhere but we still need to be there to babysit 'em by 3." My mothers name is Marcia-Jean, but people either call her MJ or Marcy outside of work. In the cell block though they call her Officer Fields. Mike and my mother got into her hatch back station wagon and drove off. I still had a couple stops to make. I ordered an iced coffee for myself and made my way to the local supermarket. I was old enough to have my license, just lacked the motivation. In a small town like Shackport everything is so close so you can just walk to wherever your heart desires. It wasn't until right before our vacation to Atlantic City for my 18th birthday, that I got my permit to help relieve the driving duties from my mom.
The doors to the supermarket slid open automatically. Upon entering the store my mental list of what I needed to prepare dinner tonight came to life. Being the good son I am, making dinner usually falls on me so my mom can relax after her night shifts. The wheels of my shopping cart squeaked ever so slightly as it glided through the aisles. For some reason I felt as if I were being watched ever since I stepped foot in the store. I mean sure security cameras are a thing, but this was completely different. My eyes scanned the selection in the pasta section and, as I reached for a box of penne, I saw a familiar figure in my peripheral vision. I heard a masculine voice speak, though the words were mumbled. I knew that voice anywhere. It was impossible, there was no possible way it could be him.
"Dad!?" I spoke aloud and looked to my right quickly. But he was gone, was he really there? I ran to the end of the aisle and looked both ways. Frantically I searched the store but no sight of the figure, or my dad. Exhaustion must be getting the best of me, seeing deadmen and making a lunatic of myself running around searching for him in a store. I grabbed the rest of what I needed for tonight's meal and headed for the register.
YOU ARE READING
Untapped
Teen FictionCallum is just a small town boy, with some big time stuff going on. Little by little he's developing new quirks and trying to cope with his ever changing tragic life.
