But What About Me?

The thirteen year old was sitting behind his father in the backseat of their car. The trunk was stuffed with taped, labeled boxes, their old house’s stuff all ready to be unpacked in the new home. A cool city, his dad elaborated, is where we’ll be—your mother and I will work in office buildings—the best part of my new job!—and you can play soccer and field hockey with your new friends on the fields behind your new middle school!                               

This is something Petes, Winston-Salem and the teen would’ve been doing (albeit Petes’ whining whenever he didn’t get a goal, and Winston-Salem arguing with him to stop complaining all the time—things that frustrated Travis so that he started yelling at them both, the argument becoming a three-ring circus whenever they couldn’t think of an easy solution).                                              

So when the teen waved both boys goodbye, every second of this stupid car ride was nauseously long.       

“Hey, bud.” His mother turned around, smiling a bright one. “How’s the ride going for you? Sorry it’s taking so long. The flight was too expensive. But we do believe driving is the best. Besides, we’re more together—not all between other people, you know?”                

The thirteen-year-old shrugged one shoulder, and sat up. “I guess it’s good.” He flicked a bang of straightened dark hair out of his face and stared out the window. He heard his mother shuffle back into her seat and talk with her husband about enrolling their son in karate or some other disciplinary school. “He sure doesn’t believe in respect, does he?”

“Yes, I do!” The teen countered. Then he thought, you know, God, if I were you, I’d turn this car around in a heartbeat. No—I’d reverse the decision to move, having Dad say no to that contractor job. Then I’d be on that field, Winston and Petes and I all playing soccer together, everyone going out for ice cream afterwards!      

“Can’t we go back to Petes’ house? Winston-Salem will be waiting for me, too!”

“Look ahead. We can’t always stay in one place. As life goes on, so do we. Don’t forget that!”

“Mm-hm!” Suddenly, there was country music blasting. “Hey, man, you like country stars trilling their voices to their songs, right?” The music grew louder. “How ‘bout some twang for ya, huh?”

Mom and Dad started singing to the song, both of them nodding and moving their heads side to side, enjoying the country singer’s voice emitting the teen’s famous lyrics. He sighed, and took out his iPhone. Maybe texting Winston-Salem would make this drive end asap. After he asked how far the new house was and groaning when his parents quickly called out four hours, the teenager rolled his eyes and started the conversation with his first best friend.

Hey, man. It’s been, like, forever since we drove away from our old house. Don’t see what is taking so long.

He looked at it a minute, and then looked outside. An hour passed. The iPhone sat there, no message responding back to him. When the yawning teenager stretched and then told his parents he’d be taking a nap, a restaurant made him turn quickly away. That’s our restaurant. We used to go there all the time! Now, it’s just going to stay there, and we’ll be somewhere else. Far away.        

The teenager stayed stone silent as they stopped at a gas station. “Hey, we’ll get something that’ll remind you of Petes. Alright?” His father wiggled his eyebrows in the rearview mirror. “Sound good?”  

Ignoring her when his mother commented on the restaurant, the teen was scolded by his father when both got out. “You pull that attitude again, you’ll find yourself hauling all the boxes into the house and unpacking them all yourself!”     

While his father filled their Honda CR-V, his mother appeared from around the car and looped an arm around him. The teen declined, saying he always ate something with Petes. But his father snapped, “Go! Buy something. A book. Anything to keep yourself busy. Your mother and I are busy trying to cheer you up, but you just give us dirt!”

The teenager trudged towards the store, his mother encouraging him. Inside, he spotted a book lying on top of others across from the card aisle. He walked over to it, looked at its scarlet and gold untitled cover all swirly-colored and pretty, opened it and started reading. Then, the teen looked over, peering into the darkness of a forest surrounding him.    

“Hello?” His voice echoed.

Someone’s voice kept repeating Travis over and over again. Finally, the person was suddenly next to the boy. Her hands latched onto him, dragging him with her deeper into the forest.

“You can’t take me! I won’t let you. No—”

“Travis!”

The teenager jolted, staring straight at his mother. He looked silently back at the book, closing it. But his mother urged him to get it. Nodding his mother’s begging words away, the teen grabbed it, and his mother bought it. Back in the car, the teen took his book out of the plastic bag beside him, continuing his new adventure.

Once ensuring he hadn’t seen or heard anything creepy or mysterious, the teen started walking towards the darkness. Even more pitch-blackness engulfed him, this time the teen wiping it from his shirt and hands. Or at least he felt he had to. It was so thick, the teen wrapped his arms around himself. “Sorry if I invaded!” He whimpered, backing away. The sound of a leaf crunched underneath his sneaker. He wished he had a light to guide his way. As he tread carefully through the forest, the sounds of leaves and sticks crunching and snapping underneath comforted him.         

“Hello? I…I’m sorry if I’m intruding. Could you please tell me where you are, or what you are?”

No answer.   

The teen wondered. “Huh?”   

He was back in his car—and looked down at the book. Blank spots between the paragraphs stared back at him. He searched around for a pen, asking his mother whether he could have one.

“Maybe when you’re kind to your mother and me, you can have what you want.” His father’s answer made the teen freeze, wide-eyed. No book? What if he got bored during the drive? What if…it needed him?

Soon, when they pulled up into the driveway of what his father said was his new house, the teen responded with ‘yes, sir’ and ‘yes, ma’am’ the whole time they unloaded boxes and bags and relocated heavy but delicate Chinaware from the back of the car to the black and white marble-top kitchen counters, oak kitchen table and white wooden living room and dining room tables. After organizing his new bedroom to replicate his old one way back in Cincinnati, the teen hurried downstairs to swing open the front door. We need each other!          

The teen lunged for the passenger car door, snatched the book and then whisked away with it upstairs.

No writing until you can respect us. His father’s words echoed in his ears.

Heaving a sigh, the teen looked at his room. He bit his lip. I just…this book…

The teen put the book down, walked to the stairs and jumped onto the banister’s edge, sliding all the way down and then hopping off. He skidded to a perfect halt in front of his amazed father.

“You better show your mother!”

“Okay. But, Dad, this book has missing paragraphs. You need to see it! I need to finish the chapters. I can’t move forward if I don’t have the pages written. I already talked with Mom. Does that mean I can write now? Please? I’m respectful now. Can’t I just have a little fun?” The boy folded his hands, begging. Then he repeated over and over, Please, please, let him say yes! Please, God. Just one answer will do.

“Well…we’ll see. Besides, we have more unpacking to do.” His father turned away towards one of the movers heading into the foyer. Hopping upstairs, the teen thanked this mover and then started unloading his box of action figures, posters and other important items. Struggling to restrain himself from even touching the book—its pretty scarlet and gold blank cover seeming to glisten in the daylight—the teen shook his head, distracting himself with his stuff until he had put most of it away.   

That night, the teen visited his parents who were watching TV. He asked whether they were done with the unpacking. His father shook his head. “Need more time tomorrow. But we’ll go out for ice cream later. How’s that sound?”   

“Can Win or Petes fly out here? We should have another going-away party!”

“No, honey. We already had two Saturday’s worth of parties. You and Win, and then you and Petes, and then you and Petes and Win the next day—so that’s two weekends. You know how much work that all took?”

“And your parents are tired from moving all afternoon. Let’s just sit down and relax.” His father put an arm around his wife. “Come on—we’ll get popcorn. Oh—did you get all your stuff put away?”

“Uh—yeah!” He lied.   

“That sounds like a plan!” His father chuckled. They turned back to the TV, hands held, while the teen charged back upstairs into his bedroom, flipping the book open. He found a pen somewhere in his room, unclicked it and scribbled something. Witnessing someone in the distance, he ran towards him.          

 “Who are you?”          

“I’m someone who’s been trapped in this forest for a long time. If someone doesn’t write me out, I’ll be here forever!”  

The teen looked around for a pen, hoping something would show up. But the other boy said that he’d be better off going back and writing something good into the pages. So the teen did. He scribbled and scribbled, telling the boy to wait as he wrote one word after another, never losing focus. After many, many scribbles later, the teen revisited him, who was now pointing to skeletal creatures with red-rimmed eyes and pencil-thin black V-shaped pupils, slippery black snake tongues slithering in and out of their mouths while their clawed hands shoved and scratched at each other, shoving and kicking in order to stay at the top of a sulfur-black volcanic chasm with what looked like a fiery glow behind the evil things. The teen shivered—though he stood right before an ashen pit, hell’s embers glowing below.             

The other boy said if the teen left him, he’d be destroyed forever. “So you can’t leave this place—no matter what.” He stated flatly. “You created these creatures. So save me from them! You can’t just abandon your characters. You can’t just ditch your protagonist. I need you!”

The teen thought aloud. “Did this book get returned—”

“Nobody could figure out what else to write. They all were too sheepish, confused or bored to write this story. That’s why I’ve been standing here forever, waiting for someone to pick up the pen and finish this book!” The boy gestured towards all the creatures before him. “Now these crazies—just waiting for me to give up by succumbing to their home. But I’ve been waiting—maybe for someone like you?”    

The teen’s eyes had widened with terror at evil destroying good. I promised. I promised my parents we’d go out for ice cream. The teen shook his head, taking his pen to paper once again. How long those paragraphs were, he didn’t know. But decades later, the teen finished the book. He turned around. His parents were standing there, canes under their wrinkly, spotted hands. Both frowned at him.   

“How long have I been writing this book?” He wondered, looking back at it. “I’m still a teen. And you’re—”

“A liar! You promised you’d help us move.” His mother jabbed the air with her cane. “We’re still in the process of moving, hon. We’ve never stopped. Even when you’re in your own little world—literally!”

The boy took a minute to process this, and then his mouth dropped open. I’ve been writing this book forever! He checked to see if he had written his last word. He had! “Was I imaging stuff?” The elderly couple said they’d been moving since he was thirteen, and still were though he was sixty-three.

“No, I’m not!” He looked down: his hands were wrinkled a little. He raced to the bathroom mirror. Flicking on the light, he stared in horror at his balding head and heavy waistline. Dashing back into his room, he wondered to himself what was going on—

“Hon!”

The teen left for the stairs. “Yes?” He almost melted into a puddle of relief as his mother’s voice rang through the foyer.

“Time for bed.”

“One minute!” The teen revisited the boy.

“Writer—”

“Travis.”

“Travis, if you leave me, you’ll get sucked into the book, and meet the same fate as I—only you’ll never get rescued. Or you’ll grow old, guilty and ashamed that you could’ve saved me.” The boy turned to the teen. “So, Travis, please know your neglect will end up in disaster. Choose wisely—helping me destroy those demonic creatures hell-bent on destroying me, or help your parents. You cannot go back and forth!”   

The teen kept at it, day after day sabotaging the demons. Finally, one vanquished, never to return. The boy, overjoyed, invited him to celebrate with his friends and family in the village over yonder. “Now that you’ve written some of my story, we’ll celebrate!”     

“Um…no thanks.” The teen walked away, telling the boy over his shoulder he “couldn’t do this anymore—I need to help my parents.” Once the boy returned to reality, he went downstairs to help them, but his father threw out a finger, demanding him to sit at the kitchen table with them. The teen tried to explain, but his words fell on deaf ears.

“We’ve been unpacking all day, and you haven’t helped at all!”

“I’m sorry.” The boy muttered, his eyes on the floor. “I truly am. I don’t want you guys to turn old right before my eyes. Time can go by, but you guys can’t. I’m not letting you! I’m not wasting any more time.”

“Yeah—sure.” The teen’s parents looked at each other. “Anyway, sorry is what you told us last time. You know what—that book’s got to go.”

“No—Dad! I can’t just return it—”

“You can, and you will.” His father demanded his son take the book to the library.

The librarian looked at him, saying it didn’t belong here.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but please—can you just take it? I—”          

“Just throw it away.”  

But a feeling of betrayal washed over him, so the teen grabbed it and then ran outside. Later, his father told him he’d better help move, or there’d be no ice cream. “Hey—we can even have Petes and Winston-Salem fly here to Los Angeles, okay?” His father promised.

“Uh—I can’t have that.” The teen dashed upstairs despite his parents’ shocked, confused faces, and threw himself into the book. “I wish I could have just—”

“Have written this book?”

The boy! He was tied up. The maniacal creatures boasted about their victory, dancing around him like he was a bonfire.  

The teen clasped his hands together, praying he’d know the direction to take, but nothing happened. Then, he found himself being chained to a wooden stake, the demons mocking him. Then they left to their chasm to make plans to destroy the two boys. Looking down, the teen let tears fall down his cheeks. He had lied to his parents. He didn’t deserve ice cream. He didn’t deserve his best friends. He deserved for the demons to kill him. He turned to the boy. “Please. Can you forgive me? I lied to my parents—and to you, too.”  

The demonic creatures taunted the teen consistently. What are you going to do, Travis? Help your poor parents, or stay a stupid little weakling forever? We won’t wait for you to defeat us! We’ll take over, and you’ll be stuck helping your parents move for the rest of your life. Ruby’s going to be king, and he’ll be better than you. In fact, he’ll rule over you like an older brother always should rule. However, he’ll be better than you—

 “Forgive you?”

“Yes. Mom and Dad should, too. I want them—I do!”

The other boy scoffed. “Only because you’re trapped here!”

The teen heaved a huge sigh, understanding. As he slid down the stake towards the earth, he stared at the floor. “Please—we can be friends.”          

After fighting the demons until daybreak the next day with their chains-turned-swords, that night by the campfire, the teen said he’d help—if he brought his parents here.

“No—only you can stay here because you’ve helped me. That’s your reward—to be king here with me, Ruby! Like they said, I’m supposed to be king, but I’m not until we solve this chasm of a problem. So you’ll be king, or you can go home, and I’ll forget about you.”  

The teen decided to leave this world and makes new friends, like his parents wished. He does as his parents have desired him to do. Because they mattered more than a crown. Ruby quickly said that he’d make it so that anyone and everyone can join. Once he’s king that is. The teen hoped he would be a good, sovereign king. Ruby nodded honestly, proving his loyalty to Travis over and over again, letting him come up with battle plans and strategies and going along with them (though they weren’t the best). Travis promised himself he’d bring Winston-Salem and Petes someday. If they hadn’t forgotten about him already.

Hey God. Travis looked hopefully up to the starry night sky. “Thank you, God. Thanks an awful lot.”