Saving North

TW: Fighting, bad parenting

North sat on the stoop of his house, earbuds in his ears. Tuning out the words, he focused on the beat and rhythm, trying to match his breathing to the tempo of the music. Normally, the noise would have bothered him, but at the time it was welcome, anything to block out the shrill voice of his mother, surely reprimanding his father for something out of his control. 

The air smelled of rain and freshly cut grass. April was North’s favorite month, he loved the flowers and especially the rain. He loved the way the rain cooled his forever warm skin, the way it kept the plants alive, and the grass brightly green. North had never been a fan of winter, for to him, it was a constant reminder of death. Breathing in deeply, he imagined the colors from the life surrounding him flowing in with his breath, saturating into his being.

He wasn’t sure how long he had sat there, maybe minutes, maybe hours, but to North, it was pure bliss. Since it was Spring Break, he promised himself that he would do this as often as he could slip away from his chores. For a short time, he was able to clear his mind. He was free of stress, free of worry. He was free to be a kid. 

***

As far back as North could remember, he had never been allowed to act as a child would. He had grown up taking care of his mother, doing chores that were meant for parents, not a young child. His father was rarely home, either working or “hanging out with his friends,” which North had grown to understand meant that he was out drinking. His mother, on the other hand, was always at home. She didn’t work, she claimed that she couldn’t. There was nothing about her that would prove her claim, nothing except her pure laziness and self-absorbedness. Working, she said, would injure her, over-exert her “frail” body. Even doing house chores was too much of a task for his mother, so things like cooking, cleaning, and taking care of everyone fell to young North. 

***

North woke up before the sun the next morning, sleepily slipping out of his nightclothes and donning his new ones. Making his way downstairs, North started making breakfast. His father left for work long before his mother even got out of bed. Around eight, his mother sleepily stumbled into the kitchen and after finishing her breakfast, went back to sleep on the couch. 

***

That afternoon, North went back outside. The girl across the street was outside and when she noticed him staring, she waved at him. North waved back, shyly. She’s pretty, he had thought. Her hair was short, dyed blue, cut just above her shoulders. She had long bangs, stopping just above her jawline and parted in the middle. She wore glasses with clear frames, and she was a bit taller than average. Her outfit consisted of a white tank top and a bright pink skirt, patterned with purple flowers. North was sure he looked a mess, as he hadn’t showered last night. His auburn hair sat messily on top of his head and he wore a plain navy blue t-shirt with grey sweatpants.

Much to his surprise, the girl approached him. When she reached his driveway, she stopped. “Hi, I’m Josie! What’s your name?” North stopped for a moment, before signing,  “I don’t talk.” He had expected the response to startle her, for he hadn’t figured she would understand. She raised an eyebrow. “That’s a weird name.” It was an ill attempt at a joke, but it made him smile nonetheless. “North…” He hesitated, hoping her earlier understanding wasn’t just a fluke. “My name in North.” She smiled, trying, but failing, to hide it. “Like the direction?” At his hesitation, she smiled wider. “I think North is a pretty cool name.”

***

North had never had a true friend before. Sure, he’d had classmates who he had worked with on projects, or who he’d tried to converse with to be polite, but to most everyone at his school, he was just the weird kid who didn’t talk anymore.

***

It wasn’t that North couldn’t talk, that he was born without a voice or lost it in some tragic accident. It was that he wouldn’t. Until about sixth grade, North talked constantly. He was the kid who would get in trouble for talking too much and distracting his friends from the lesson. Then, one day, North just stopped talking. He never told anybody why, and he had no way of communicating until he learned sign language.

***

Every day, for the five days of Spring Break, about one o’clock in the afternoon Josie and North would hang out. They sat on the stoop of his house, talking about anything and everything.

Whenever he talked to her, North felt that he could finally relax. He didn’t hold back his words around her and in the short week, he had told more about himself to Josie than he had to anyone else before. He told her about important things about himself,  like his family and internal struggles, but he also told her little things about himself, that his favorite color was yellow or how he loved the smell of rain.

In return, she would tell him things about herself. He got to know about her school life, what it was like to have normal friends, to be treated like a normal kid. He learned that she was learning French, and he thought that the beautiful, delicate language suited her. She was a sympathetic person, listening well when he told her about his problems, offering advice to the best of her ability.

Every day he grew to love her more.

***

It was the last day of Spring Break and North was going to make the best of it. He sat outside of his house and the time was only eleven. He had woken up early, even earlier than usual, to finish his chores. There was still a small trace of dew left on the blades of grass, but North wished he had been outside earlier, earlier when the blades of grass still glistened, to watch as the sun rose over the horizon. 

Even though the sun was shining in his eyes and there was no sign of rain yet, he was happy that he was outside. His mother was awake and grumpy. His father was home and sober. The combination of the two was something North would rather avoid.

***

After two and a half more hours of waiting, North started to get curious. Where was Josie? Why wasn’t she outside yet? She usually came outside one o’clock, which was about now. 

North reassured himself. “She’s just busy.” “She’ll be out later.”

***

Another hour had passed. Her parent’s car wasn’t in their driveway anymore. It had left half an hour before.

***

Ten more minutes passed. North gave up and went inside. He tried to be as quiet as he could, sneaking in through the side door rather than the one in the front of their house. 

Taking slow, light steps, North finally made his way into the kitchen, hearing the raised voices of his parents. They were fighting, as he’d expected them to be. Quietly crouching, he listened to what they were saying.

“All you ever do is work and drink! You’re never home and when you are, you’re so drunk that you can’t see straight!” His mom.

“At least I work! All you ever do is sleep and complain. You don’t even clean. The boy does everything around this place that I can’t. If you’re going to be a mother, you need to step it up.” His father this time.

“Like you have room to talk! You haven’t been home for any of his birthdays since he was five. He’s almost fifteen! That’s ten years if you can’t count!”

“Theresa, if you’re going to continue to live your life as you do, that’s fine by me, but you’ll need to find another source of income.”

“Are you breaking up with me?! We’ve been married for seventeen years. We have a son, for crying out loud!”

“Tom!”

“TOM!”

North watched as his father walked away, slamming the door to the garage. He sat in silence, his back against the fridge. He remained silent as tears slowly slid down his cheeks, then along his jawline, before dropping onto the neck of his shirt. 

***

Silently, North sat on the stoop of his house. Again, he had earbuds in his ears, playing the same song they had only days before. He watched mutely as his father loaded his things into the trunk of his car.

***

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.

It had started to sprinkle. North’s dad was turning the corner in his car, slowly, driving away, now out of sight. As he was about to head inside, he heard the low rumbling of a car engine. Hesitantly, he turned his head, hoping for the best but expecting the worst. 

What he saw was even worse than the worst. A moving truck was pulling into Josie’s driveway.

North watched as three men got out of the truck. He watched as they struggled to unlock the front door of her house. He watched as they went inside and returned with box after box, one piece of furniture after another, and loaded them into their truck.

The rain was getting harder, and North’s iPod had stopped working, fully soaked. He now stood in silence as one of the men locked Josie’s front door again, while the other two closed the back of the truck.

With all three of the men now in the truck, the engine started. It growled as it came to life.

North stood quietly as the truck drove away. 

***

He started to walk inside. All he wanted was sleep. 

***

One last time, he turned his head to look at her house. One last time, to remember the great memories they’d made in the short time of a week. Imagine what memories they could have made. What they could have been.

***

He already missed her. Josie. The girl who had saved him, even if just for a week.