Because We Had Us

Chapter 16. So Close

Laz

     I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. No! I knew this was the way. The wall of flames that once stood roaring, that took my friend, were gone. I took my rage out on the aluminum walls around me denting them and bruising my own hands. I didn't realize how much sports helped control my rage back on Earth until now. At the time I had such a love hate relationship with every sport. I went through sports like rich people blew threw money. I'd always love the idea of starting something new, having new teammates, and finding what position I was best at, but my passion never did last long. I wasn't a sore loser, wether I won or lost I was happy, but for some reason I craved change. 

     My parents never did approve of how many times I changed hobbies. They thought I was just lazy, so they always called me lazy Lazarus, since they didn't approve of the shortening of my name either. It seemed as if winning their approval was impossible at times, but for some reason that game was the only one I could ever commit to. Chasing the approval of my parents became my life goal. I spent one entire summer studying, so I could get into the private school my parents had always dreamed of me going to, which I ended up hating because it was an all boys school. Though it pleased my mom my outstanding academic performance, as one of my teachers had called it, never seemed to be enough for my dad. 

     Dad was a state champion quarter back when he was my age, so my seventh grade year I suffered through an extremely long football season. I mostly sat the bench though, which I found was more embarrassing to my dad than me not making the team at all. So then I moved on to soccer, then tennis, and finally lacrosse, which fyi is the hardest sport of all time. To actually excel at that sport you had to be supernatural, and I was the farthest from it. I was average Laz. Everything I did I was just average at, though school was my strong suit for a while,  I eventually became only average at it too.

     Sometimes I wondered who decided average wasn't good enough. If average meant the majority of people were the same, then why was the word frowned upon? I liked being average. I mean why be great at one thing when you can be average at many? But when I shared this philosophy of mine with my father he peered over the top of his newspaper, with a look of undeniable disapproval that would haunt me forever. 

     My parents were never abusive in anyway, I mean I was just thankful to have some, unlike Corin, but still I never felt like I was enough for them. Honestly I haven't known what to do with myself here in space without them. My life goal back then was to win their acceptance, it was my normal, but now I had to find a new one and though change did seem to be my area of expertise it was different now. Then my normal revolved around my parents, and now I was desperately trying to find out who I was without them. What did I really love? What kind of person was I? 

     It was odd that my normal, which I always secretly longed to escape, was now the thing I missed the most. I was so lost on this new world. It seemed as if everyone, even little Miriam, played a key aspect in our little family, except me. Jo was our responsible caretaker and leader, Corin was our mastermind, Miriam was our heart, Ruth was our fearless soldier, but what was I? I could occasionally crack a few jokes and entertain Miriam, so did that make me the babysitter? That was the role of an average person alright. I was extra in the movie of my own life.

     I felt the same disappointment in myself that my parents must have felt about me in this moment, as I mindlessly punched the walls around me. Each time my fist made contact with the aluminum I released a drop of anger, of disappointment. I was so lost in my head for a while that I had almost forgot about my mission of finding or rescuing Ruth who was probably charred by now. I was such an idiot, and one with a bloodied fist at that. But still I hit the wall once again, only this time wall didn't give.

      Brushing my callused hands around on that wall I felt a hard rectangular shape. A secret door? I peeled back the aluminum to uncover what I had suspected: a door. Just as I grasped the handle of the door an electric shock was sent through my body, leaving me collapsed on the hard, cold floor with a headache once again.