This room brings back memories. Bad memories.
I remember sitting on this very same bench, every Sunday night, waiting for my uncle.
I remember spitting out curses and prayers.
I remember my uncle telling me not to take the Lord's name in vain.
I ran away so I wouldn't have to sit hear again. So why am I?
My uncle came into the room and shut the door behind him. I didn't turn around. I heard him take his belt off and I hunched over. He told me to take my shirt off and I did. Why, I have no idea.
I shut my eyes, hoping that it would all be over soon, and expecting pain.
What I didn't expect was for my uncle to lay the belt lightly around my shoulders, kneel in front of me, look up and say he was sorry for what he did to me.
I'm not really getting what's going on.
"Happy birthday Anthony." My uncle handed me a small package wrapped in brown paper.
Ok, something's a little fishy here.
I slowly tear the paper and there in my lap are my dad's old cards and the dice he gave me. The one's my uncle took away when I moved in with him.
Ok. Now I'm confused.
My 'gambling is a sin!' uncle just gave me cards and dice.
I get the feeling I'm missing something.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of happiness and laughter, but with a great deal of confusion. My uncle, who beat me once a week because I gambled, said he was sorry.
I don't get it.
He gave me a birthday present. There was cake.
And know I'm standing back outside with the door shut behind me.
With nothing else to do, I start the long walk back to Manhattan.
I'm halfway across the Brooklyn Bridge and I stop.
I seem to be sitting on this bridge a lot lately.
It's not that I need to think about what happened. Actually, it would probably be safer not to. I just need to let everything settle.
Time has passed, and yet I'm still confused.
And who should be walking across the bridge, but Spot Conlon himself.
"Race, is that you?"
"Yup."
He sat down next to me.
"What are you doing here?"
"I like the view." Which is true. Even if there isn't really much to see when it's dark outside.
"Is there something bothering you?"
Spot and Jack are probably the only people who would ask me that and get an honest answer. Spot and I go way back, to when I lived with my uncle. And Jack can ask because he's, well, Jack.
"Not really." It's the truth.
"Then why are you sitting here in the dark on your birthday?" I wasn't looking at him, but I could practically hear him raise an eyebrow.
"Uh." I didn't have an answer.
An awkward little pause decided to work its way into our conversation.
"So, how old are you today?" Thank goodness he changed the subject.
"Seventeen."
Spot was thinking. Like his eyebrows, you could just hear it happening.
"Weren't you seventeen last year?"
"No." I wasn't. I just said I was.
Funny though. No one noticed when I turned seventeen for the second time last year.
"Well, we'd better get back to the lodging house."
"We?" Why would Spot be going to Manhattan?
"For your surprise birthday party. Only, you didn't hear about it from me." He stood up and started walking. I followed.
"How'd they know I'd come back?" Well, besides the fact that I had told them I would. Well, I told Jack I would. He's actually the only person I told that I was leaving.
"Oh, people just know things." Spot can be very vague when he wants to.
By the time we made it to the lodging house I was pretty much back to normal. I was still confused, but I had decided not to let it bother me. I mean, if I got over my uncle beating me, I could surely get over his being nice to me.
After all, I did get a deck of cards and dice out of the deal.
AN: It's finished! As always, please review! I'd really love to know what everyone who read this thought.
My mom said high faluting' today. It was pretty creepy actually, after I stopped laughing. She hasn't seen Newsies so she didn't know why I was cracking up. Somehow she ended up saying 'high falutin' son of a gun'. I'm surprised I didn't choke, I was laughing so hard. I mean, how many phrases are there where I have a mental connection to dancing newsboys?
And yes. . .I'm still wondering who the guy who sings high in Seize the Day is.
I remember sitting on this very same bench, every Sunday night, waiting for my uncle.
I remember spitting out curses and prayers.
I remember my uncle telling me not to take the Lord's name in vain.
I ran away so I wouldn't have to sit hear again. So why am I?
My uncle came into the room and shut the door behind him. I didn't turn around. I heard him take his belt off and I hunched over. He told me to take my shirt off and I did. Why, I have no idea.
I shut my eyes, hoping that it would all be over soon, and expecting pain.
What I didn't expect was for my uncle to lay the belt lightly around my shoulders, kneel in front of me, look up and say he was sorry for what he did to me.
I'm not really getting what's going on.
"Happy birthday Anthony." My uncle handed me a small package wrapped in brown paper.
Ok, something's a little fishy here.
I slowly tear the paper and there in my lap are my dad's old cards and the dice he gave me. The one's my uncle took away when I moved in with him.
Ok. Now I'm confused.
My 'gambling is a sin!' uncle just gave me cards and dice.
I get the feeling I'm missing something.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of happiness and laughter, but with a great deal of confusion. My uncle, who beat me once a week because I gambled, said he was sorry.
I don't get it.
He gave me a birthday present. There was cake.
And know I'm standing back outside with the door shut behind me.
With nothing else to do, I start the long walk back to Manhattan.
I'm halfway across the Brooklyn Bridge and I stop.
I seem to be sitting on this bridge a lot lately.
It's not that I need to think about what happened. Actually, it would probably be safer not to. I just need to let everything settle.
Time has passed, and yet I'm still confused.
And who should be walking across the bridge, but Spot Conlon himself.
"Race, is that you?"
"Yup."
He sat down next to me.
"What are you doing here?"
"I like the view." Which is true. Even if there isn't really much to see when it's dark outside.
"Is there something bothering you?"
Spot and Jack are probably the only people who would ask me that and get an honest answer. Spot and I go way back, to when I lived with my uncle. And Jack can ask because he's, well, Jack.
"Not really." It's the truth.
"Then why are you sitting here in the dark on your birthday?" I wasn't looking at him, but I could practically hear him raise an eyebrow.
"Uh." I didn't have an answer.
An awkward little pause decided to work its way into our conversation.
"So, how old are you today?" Thank goodness he changed the subject.
"Seventeen."
Spot was thinking. Like his eyebrows, you could just hear it happening.
"Weren't you seventeen last year?"
"No." I wasn't. I just said I was.
Funny though. No one noticed when I turned seventeen for the second time last year.
"Well, we'd better get back to the lodging house."
"We?" Why would Spot be going to Manhattan?
"For your surprise birthday party. Only, you didn't hear about it from me." He stood up and started walking. I followed.
"How'd they know I'd come back?" Well, besides the fact that I had told them I would. Well, I told Jack I would. He's actually the only person I told that I was leaving.
"Oh, people just know things." Spot can be very vague when he wants to.
By the time we made it to the lodging house I was pretty much back to normal. I was still confused, but I had decided not to let it bother me. I mean, if I got over my uncle beating me, I could surely get over his being nice to me.
After all, I did get a deck of cards and dice out of the deal.
AN: It's finished! As always, please review! I'd really love to know what everyone who read this thought.
My mom said high faluting' today. It was pretty creepy actually, after I stopped laughing. She hasn't seen Newsies so she didn't know why I was cracking up. Somehow she ended up saying 'high falutin' son of a gun'. I'm surprised I didn't choke, I was laughing so hard. I mean, how many phrases are there where I have a mental connection to dancing newsboys?
And yes. . .I'm still wondering who the guy who sings high in Seize the Day is.