Becoming Flynn - Noah's Story

One - Fighting.

I had been driving around for hours. It had gotten cold and my muscles felt stiff. My thoughtskept running in circles and I did not want to go home. Elle had runafter my little brother, not me, as usual. No matter how much thatthought tortured me, I was not going to let it kill me in a roadaccident. So I checked in the next open Motel that looked decentenough that my bike would still be there in the morning.

The room was okay, nocockroaches whisked away when I turned on the light. I checked theminibar and it was fully stocked. I took a Coke and a bottle ofSchnaps, kicked my shoes of and let myself drop on the bed. After thesecond swig of booze, I switched the TV on hoping it would distractme. Eventually, I muted the TV and let my thoughts and the booze flowfreely.

This afternoon had justbeen like it always used to be. Nothing had changed between Lee, Elleand me. My brother always played the first role. They were born noteven minutes apart and have been inseparable from the start. I onlyremember them as a package deal. Where Lee was, there was Shelly andthe other way round. Elle's bubbly personality and Lee's goofinessmade people like them. Among the two of them, they managed to lightup any room they entered. It is not like I was overlooked in any way.My parents made sure to let Lee and me know we were equally loved bythem. Random strangers told me they liked my looks and my sportsachievements got me more than just a little attention. But I alwaysfelt that my little brother was the lucky one of the two of us. Henever had to go through things alone, neither through the first dayof kindergarden nor to his first dentist appointment and not to hisfirst swimming lesson either. Elle was always there with him and forhim.

Lee's trademark was hispersonality, brains and charme and mine were good looks, athleticachievements and the will to fight for what I wanted. On my first dayof school, some older boy called me 'pretty boy' and spit on mylunch. I kicked him hard in the shin to let him know that I was morethan a pretty face and not going to be his punching bag.Occasionally, I looked out for Lee and Elle as well. After all, Leewas my little brother and Elle felt like a little sister to me. WhenElle and Lee annoyed me, I sometimes hit Lee, never Elle though. Mymom made sure I knew never to hit girls and that it was wrong tostart a fight. So I never started. But I did not avert a good fighteither. Some douche bag always gave me reason. I got into my firstreal fight when I was about twelve years old. I do not even rememberwhy it started but it was not me who started it. That is why I nevergot into as much trouble as I might have if I had just stupidly goneoff on just anybody. Though that ended up being the first time I hadto go see a counselor. In a conversation between the headmaster andmy mom and dad, the school counselor insisted that I had shown anexcessive amount of aggression and needed to talk about it. Theyagreed on me going to see her four times. Mrs. Clovent, the counselorkept asking me what it felt like to beat up the other boy. I justshrugged. And why I had kept going when he was bleeding from his noseuntil some teacher pulled us apart. Truth is, I had the upper handlike I usually do and he just did not give up. Stupid shit justwanted to get beaten over and over again knowing perfectly well thathe could not win this fight. Or any other against me for that matter.Mrs. Clovent had to leave me off the hook after these fourappointments as none of her questions revealed trouble at home or aseriously disturbed mind.

After a couple of fightsin summer camp, my parents decided to give counseling another try.The aim of this lady – I completely forgot her name – wasnon-violent conflict resolution. I passed her stupid program easily,it is not that I am incapable of solving conflicts without a fight.Just when I happen to come across someone who clearly is not beyond agood fight, I am not stepping away. No need to since I win most ofthe time anyway. Some say, I got a short fuze. Maybe I do, I am justnot patient with idiots. The third counselor was a proper shrinkrecommended by our headmaster. After my last huge fight at school,mom and dad had to agree that I would go see a psychologist in orderto keep me from getting expelled. He was a nice guy, liked to chatabout his achievements and did not give me much trouble. At the endof the agreed set of session, I came home one night to hear a heateddiscussion between my parents. Dad complained that the shrink was awaste of money while mom wanted to try again with someone morequalified who did not believe in miracles. Later at night, I snuckdown and found a letter the shrink had written about our therapysessions. He found that I had the intellectual and mentalcapabilities to resolve any conflict without violence. However, Ialso had the physical ability to decide arguments in my favor withoutbothering to talk to much or concede. Basically, it was just lazinessthat got me to give in to my "rather reserved nature". Hepredicted that I could turn into an adult with severe angermanagement issues unless in a miraculous way, I would somehow find anincentive to change my behaviour. Elle did just that for me, she wasmy miracle, my incentive. When Lee swung at me, I did not fight back.Okay, so I made sure he could not hit another punch but I did nothurt him. Did not do me any good though. Elle was angry at menevertheless.