Normal is conforming with or constituting a norm or standard or level or type or social norm; not abnormal.
Hate is to dislike intensely; feel antipathy or aversion towards.
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Darkness. Shuffle, shuffle; Nathan, my brother, and Mother switched seating positions. Flip of worn paper; Father read from the bible. More darkness. Scratch, scratch; I drew the outline of the sun- something I wished I had felt recently; the warmth seeping through my clothes and sinking into my pale skin; my only guide was what I'd seen out the window of my lonely room upstairs.
The room was dimly lit only by Father's candle. Mother sat on the opposite end of the couch Father was sitting, only her left half visible. Nathan was completely shrouded in darkness, sitting upon the armrest on Mother's right. I sat beside my Father's leg, so I could see what I was drawing, trying to tune out the words I had no belief in.
Father slapped the back of my head. "Pay attention, boy." His voice was harsh, a warning tone lying underneath.
I bit my lip but did as I was told. I sat the thick stack of paper down; the pencil rolled underneath the couch.
"I denied myself everything my eyes desired; I refused my heart pleasure. My heart took on a fake delight in all my work, and this was the reward for all my labor. Yet when I surveyed all that my hands had done and what I had toiled to achieve, everything was meaningless, a chasing after the wind; nothing was gained under the sun." Father read like this was something to be cherished.
I nearly laughed out loud at the irony.
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"Why can't you just be normal?" Nathan shouted, throwing his lanky arms into the air. A brown curl fell into his wet eyes that he angrily swiped at. "All you ever do is stay closed up in that room of yours until Father drags you downstairs!" He was furious; his tears made of anger, not sorrow. "You're the reason they fight!" He was referring to our parents. He slammed the door to his room shut.
I was stunned, my eyes feeling too wide to fit my face. It seemed my brother finally lost it; Mother and Father already had. I wondered if it was to be me next. I decided to name it the Radley Curse; passed down from my parent's parents and who knows who else before them. Grandmother had always been mad for as long as I could remember knowing her. Grandfather was dead- murdered, more specifically; I suspected Grandmother did it herself.
I turned to walk away from the place beside the upstairs banister where Nathan had confronted me. I paused a moment and glanced at the railing. Something tugged at my memory but I couldn't place whatever it was. I touched the small indention but quickly pulled back, muttering an, "Ouch," as I felt something prick my finger. A bubble of blood was forming, a small splinter protruding from my stretched flesh. I plucked it out.
A flash of quick movement came to the forefront of my mind. I saw my face like I was someone else, looking down upon myself. I looked frightened and a flash of unexplained pain shot through me.
As I watched the blood trickle down my pointer finger, I decided I didn't want to go mad. I wouldn't carry on the Radley Curse. I would put a stop in its tracks.
Little did I know, my family would soon cause me to border on insanity.
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Mother and Father were arguing. Again. I wasn't sure what it was about. Nathan said it was about me; disdain in his voice. I wondered why he'd grown to hate me so much.
Nathan was tall, three years my senior. His eyes were light blue, slowly hardening to ice as he grew older. He had unkempt hair that was a sandy blond.
"Why-" I paused to clear my throat, wondering when the last time I'd spoken was; I had Nathan's attention the second I made a noise. "Why do you hate me so much?" I gazed steadily at my hands, wondering if it could possibly be normal for a fifteen-year-old boy's hands to be so pale.
Normal. I snorted internally. A word I despised; something I strived for; something I wasn't.
Nathan didn't give me an answer. He simply stared at me; I felt his eyes and looked up. Nathan had tears in his eyes and a saddened look on his face.
I was bewildered, never having seen such a vulnerable expression on my older brother before. He was the strong one. He stood up to life's troubles. He found a way to hide in himself.
Nathan stood from the chair slowly, the light from the small flame of the candle lit his face eerily- yet I felt more at peace than I had for who knows how long. He walked over to me and sat down- something he hadn't down since I was far younger. He motioned for me to come closer and he helped pull me into his lap.
I felt comforted as his arms secured themselves around my abnormally tiny body. He held me there, rocking slightly, and I realized I was crying. He cried, too.
"Boo," Nathan said my nickname softly, "there is no way on this God forsaken planet that I could hate you. You're my little brother and I'm very sorry for having not treated you as such."
Maybe my brother wasn't going mad. Maybe he would be the end to the Radley Curse. Maybe I was destined to be the last insane Radley to walk Maycomb.
I desperately hoped not.
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Father screamed.
Had I not thought him insane before, I definitely had proof now: the knife his own hand had stabbed himself with.
The knife went halfway through his leg, just barely missing the bone. Blood gushed. Father's scream grew quiet then started up again at a far higher frequency.
"Arthur Radley! Look at what you've done!" Mother's accusing voice said as she rushed into the living room.
I stayed quiet. My first mistake.
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"He's the devil incarnate!" someone shouted. "He needs some serious help," someone else agreed.
Mother was praying. Father was arguing that nothing they could do would get him to send me away. Father settled on a compromise; I would spend three years of my life locked up in the basement beneath the courthouse. Nathan remained quiet; I did as well. My first mistake repeated.
It was the first time in forever that I had actually left that house. It wasn't a very happy event. I realized the world was nothing like I'd hoped and dreamed. It was a nightmare that required a good amount of acting to be someone else, pretending you're something your not, hiding behind what society wanted you to be. It was all one big sham. My imagination ran away with me and had only led to broken dreams; a broken soul.
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Voices in my head. Darkness surrounding me. Unknown sounds coming from unknown places. The basement was haunted. Ghosts greeted me yet I wasn't scared. Rocks flew at me yet I felt no pain. Cement was tough and rocky beneath me as I sat, wasting away.
Through it all I felt no fear.
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My insanity had dissipated over the years. I had learned, with the help of my brother, how to let all the hidden pain out without being bombarded. I felt, once again, at peace with myself.
I stayed cooped up in my house, even when my parents had died soon after I was released, ashamed of what the town thought I had done; scared to hear their harsh assumptions. There wasn't a possible way to leave without wondering or accusing eyes on me. I was the one abnormality; the removable factor. I figured out how people shied away from scary things like the unknown.
I couldn't help sneaking out at night. I may be ashamed to show my face in the daytime, but night had become my close and personal friend. I took to it like cats took to their masters.
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Jeremy and Jean Louise Finch. Two lovely children that passed by my house daily; walking to and from school brought them into my periphery from the window in my lonesome bedroom. I watched them, curious, just as I watched the town, but something about the two children drew me to them. I couldn't help but watch as they played outside. I couldn't help but climbing the old oak at night to watch them sleep. I couldn't help how infatuated I had become with these two children. I couldn't help feeling as if they were my own.
I couldn't help the love that blossomed in my heart that had seemed, for so very long, to have stopped beating altogether.
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I smiled as I watched my children rolling a tire around. I smiled as Jem ran up to gently tap my door then run off. I smiled as they poked a fishing pole into the downstairs shutter window., a curious message at the end.
A secret smile here and there as I drew my children.
I worried about them and cherished them like they were my own children. It was from a distance, but that didn't make my love any less true.
I left them gifts in a tree. A tree that was special to me. The tree was the only thing of the outside world I could remember from my younger years. The gifts were special to me as well. Little things I had once held dear, hoping they would do so as well.
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Jem and Scout were saddened by something. Their father seemed somewhat distant. I was slightly shaken.
It was because of a decision spewed from racist hearts. The death of an innocent human being. A black man's word over a white man's. It's easy to see whom will win- not many think it wrong.
I hated when people played God. If such a thing as a man in the sky even existed.
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A shadow loomed. Rocks scattered. Feet tripped. Bodies fell. Thump, thump.
My children were in danger.
My feet raced down the rickety stairs to the first floor. Nathan looked up from his book, questioningly, but I was forcing my way out the front door before he could voice anything. I ran, and ran, and ran. My breath came out in heavy huffs; long since, had it been since I'd last run like I had that night.
Jem screamed. I moved faster.
The devil that chose to hurt my children had his grip firmly around Scout; Jem lay motionless. I yanked him back and his grip failed.
I couldn't recognize the man, but I had no need. He was going to hurt my children. That's enough to get me seeing red.
The man's knife flailed, just barely scratching the skin of my arm, tearing the sleeve. I grabbed at it, wrestling him to the ground. Quickly, I plunged the knife deep into his heart then moved out of the way of his still flailing limbs.
I jumped up, staggering, feeling lightheaded and unsure of the reason. I leaned against the tree nearby, caught my breath, and the dizziness went away. I looked around and then walked over to where I saw a lump.
"Jem? Jem?" Scout sounded so frightened.
Groaning, I picked up Jeremy, knowing Scout was fine but still worried about her. I would have carried her as well had it not been for Jem's heavy weight. I could barely carry him back to his house.
As I crossed his yard, Jem hanging frighteningly limp in my arms, the door opened and Atticus's shape was illuminated with light. He hurried over to me, immediately worried for his son, and helped carry Jem inside and to his room.
I didn't speak, just leaned against the wall farthest from the bed Jeremy lay in. Activity buzzed around the house. He didn't look peaceful at all, so I knew he wasn't dead. Jem had done nothing in his life to make him deserve such a tormented look on his face at death. His arm was bent the wrong way so I knew it was broken.
Atticus came back in and stood beside Jem, followed by a woman who seemed flustered. She gazed at me for a moment, questioning and wary. I wondered if she knew who I was. I held up my hands to show I meant no harm.
"That's Arthur, Alexandra. He brought Jem home," Atticus explained, glancing back at me, an appreciative look in his eyes.
The woman offered me a small smile. It was a beautiful smile.
I frowned, confused, as I felt something spark. I gave Alexandra a hard look.
She was a beautiful woman, fairly tall and petite and held herself with pride. Her eyes were a soft violet, full of worry and compassion; hair like an endless chocolate ocean.
Something clicked. There was no better way to explain the feeling of righteousness that flowed through me.
Alexandra had to have felt it as well. She continued to gaze at me, her expression somewhere between awe and shock, until Atticus asked her to check on Scout. She hurried back, but we never spoke.
A man walked in, carrying a large bag. He didn't even look my way, hurrying over to examine Jem. He confirmed what I already knew: Jem had a broken arm, unconscious, a bump on the head. He was going to be alright.
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"Hey, Boo," Scout said, her eyes watering for some reason unknown to me. She finally noticed me.
Oh, and what a sweet voice...
She was as sweet as I knew her to be, talking to me, being gentle with me. She walked me home and I'm sure she was positive she'd never see me again; I had different plans.
A small part of me danced and sang jovially. I had broken the Radley Curse- my brother and I. My children were safe and I was growing to love them even more.
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"I am so proud of you, Boo," Nathan said, his eyes watering. He wiped the tears away and glanced at my hair in frustration. "You could have at least tried to tame this mess," he grumbled and lunged at my hair like a tiger hunting his prey.
I quickly sidestepped out of his way, laughing. "My hair is just fine, Mother," I said jokingly, shielding my lengthy blond hair from his reach.
Nathan childishly stuck his tongue out at me, folding his arms indignantly across his chest. "It's your wedding day! Don't you want to look at least a tad decent? You should have gotten this mess cut off..." he ranted.
"Alexandra says she loves my hair at this length." I smirked, raising an eyebrow, challenging him to continue his tirade over my hair.
Nathan opened his mouth to say something but my soon-to-be-brother-in-law appeared and cut him off. "His hair is perfectly fine, Nathan," Atticus chided softly then turned to me. "Arthur, I believe my sister would like to find her fiance at the alter when she gets there." He smiled and pushed his falling glasses up his nose.
I suddenly knew the meaning to the term 'cold feet'. "Um... right, right." I grew flustered and nervously rubbed my sweaty hands on my pants.
Atticus chuckled gently and squeezed my shoulder. "She loves you. Even if you make a fool of yourself out there." His eyes glinted in amusement.
I felt oddly comforted and cracked a smile. "Thanks, Atticus." Nathan grabbed my attention once again.
"What in God's name did you do to your tie?" he asked, eying the offending piece of clothing.
I frowned, getting annoyed.
"I'm just looking out for my little brother," he murmured distractedly, like he had read my mind, as he went about retying the tie.
I smiled and, once he had finished, quickly put him into a headlock and mussed up his hair. I then ran for it, laughing boisterously.
"I'm gonna get you, Boo!" Nathan warned, sounding jokingly peeved.
I burst through the front doors of the church and bolted down the aisle. I heard a few people chuckling in the pews. I halted at the alter, breathing heavily, but tried to look like I'd been there the whole time.
Nathan walked into the church and looked around, searching for me.
I smirked and waved innocently as I caught Nathan's eye.
Nathan's eyes narrowed but he gave me a big smile, playing it innocent as well, and waved. He walked leisurely up the aisle and stood beside me. He was my best man.
"Glad you could join us."
"You are sooo in for it once you get back."
"You're just jealous."
"Am not!"
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Abnormal is not normal; not typical or usual or regular or conforming to a norm.
Love is a strong positive emotion of regard and affection.