The house stood under the sky, looming up underneath the canopy trees and
dark night. Craig sat in the car staring at what had been his home for the
past fourteen years, trying to get up the courage to open the door and come
inside. The car pulled to a stop in the long driveway and the engine cut
out causing Craig to wince when the beating of his heart seemed to fill the
small space of the car. He glanced out of the corner of his eyes to see his
dad taking off his seatbelt and opening the car door. Craig followed suit,
feeling his pulse leap in protest at the idea. Ignoring it, he shut the car
door and walked to the trunk to get his luggage.
"Leave it." His dad snapped, breaking the silence.
He froze, slowly shuffling his feet up the sidewalk after his dad. The walk
up to the front door was eternity and a split second. All too soon the door
was being shut behind them and Craig was heading toward the stairs, hoping
he could run up to his room before the confrontation started.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"Umm. Up to my room?"
"I want to know what you said to that school nurse. I want to know what kind of false trouble you have stirred up."
"Dad I swear I didn't say anything. They made us wear shorts and a tee shirt. I couldn't help it. The bruises were showing..."
"What are you trying to say!?"
"N-Nothing. I'm really sorry dad, but I swear I didn't say anything."
Suddenly his dad reached out and grabbed his arm. Hard. He could feel his fingers digging into the bone and he couldn't help but cry out as tears smarted in his eyes.
"I don't believe you. You ungrateful little brat! After everything I do for you. You're going off to strangers and telling them our business?"
"Dad please... Let go of my arm!"
His father abruptly threw him away and as he as hit the wall with a thud, he found himself losing his balance and crumpling in a heap.
"Go get your suitcase out of the car. I don't even want to look at you right now."
Craig watched in shock at his father's retreating figure. Watched the shadow of his father eerily large slowly disappearing into his study. Was that all? He hastily scrambled up on his shaky legs and all but ran for the door. Out in the open he breathed in the fresh air and headed for the car still feeling like his mind was in a bit of a haze. His father hadn't hurt him. Not really hurt him. Sure he would have a bruised arm tomorrow but that was nothing in comparison. He opened the trunk and retrieved his luggage rolling the large one up the sidewalk and shouldering his backpack. At the front door entrance he hesitated, wondering if maybe this was some sort of mind game his dad had come up with. Maybe he was really waiting on the other side of the door. Waiting to really hurt him when his guard was down. Slowly his hand curled around the cold shiny doorknob and gave it a twist. The door gave and as it swung open Craig tensed, giving a good look from shadowy corner to shadowy corner. Nothing. Just the quiet. He breathed a sigh of relief and slugged up the stairs to the safe haven of his room. As he closed the door behind him he automatically latched all three of the locks on his doors. Better to be safe then sorry. Dropping the bags on his floor he glanced around the room, taking in his surroundings. It appeared to be the room of a spoiled boy. A brand new computer with flat screen monitor sat on an expensive cherry stained desk. A 32" flat screen TV with DVD player and satellite stood on a huge entertainment system along with an X-Box with all the trimmings. He even had his own private phone line, something most of his friends couldn't claim. To Craig however it was just a memory of a kick, a punch, a slap. Every item of luxury represented a bout of anger with his father. He could remember just before he left the huge argument that had caused all the trouble at camp. He had been protesting with his father about going away.
"But why can't I stay with Joey and Angela... I'm sure they wouldn't mind."
"I thought I told you not to bring up that man's name in this house! You are not staying with him, ever and that's final."
He wasn't sure what possessed him to protest. "But dad!"
Slam! He hadn't even prepared himself for his father's anger and the next thing he knew he was slammed up against the wall. Losing his footing he fell onto the ground and immediately he curled into a ball trying to protect himself.
"I don't want to hear that man's name! He was nothing but a damned cheater! Having an affair with your whore of a mother!"
With each word he spoke he let his foot fly, kicking him in the stomach, the legs, his arms. Craig begged his father to stop. "Please dad! I'm sorry! I'll go to camp, just stop!"
"Your mother left us, Craig! She broke my heart, abandoned you! What kind of person does that?! Huh? I never did that to you! And this is how you repay me?"
"Please, dad..." Craig sobbed quietly hoping to disquiet his father's anger.
"You're going to that camp." His father abruptly walked away, leaving Craig to sob into the carpet.
He could still feel the carpet on his cheek. The soggy rough material wet with his tears. He must have laid there for at least an hour, dimly hearing his father slam the door while he went to work. He had gingerly lifted himself off the floor, at first crawling a few feet testing his injuries, making sure he could walk. Finally standing up he groaned as his body throbbed all over. Nothing had been broken though, Craig thought back smirking, he was the expert on that. He had crawled up to bed watching the evening sun creep through his blinds. He reached into his nightstand to grab his bottle of extra strength Tylenol. Shaking four into his hand, he took it with the day old water he had left on his stand. He always had a full bottle handy in this house. Lying on his bed, it seemed to take hours until finally the darkness had overtaken him and he fell into a restless troubled sleep.
The next morning when he had woke up, he had glanced at the alarm clock to check the time. To his surprise it was past noon. His father never let him sleep in past ten, insisting that he was wasting his time and that there was plenty of stuff he could be doing. Slowly he had sat up, taking note on his pain level. He ached all over like he had a bad case of the flu. Wincing he grabbed his bottle of Tylenol and took four more. He was becoming a Tylenol junkie. He stood up and grabbed a loose long sleeved shirt of the softest material possible and a lose pair of pants of a soft expensive cotton. Shrugging into his pants and shirt he slowly undid the locks on his door and cautiously looked around. To his surprise he had heard an unfamiliar voice speaking with his father.
"Of course, Mr. Manning, I'll get right on it."
When he walked down the stairs and around the corner he saw a stranger with his father. The man was dressed in clothing that Craig knew under ordinary circumstance his father would never associate with, and so he wondered what was going on.
"Craiger! Come on down. This is Mr. Bugatony."
"Uh, it's Bugaton sir."
Albert forced a smile and nodded. "Right, Mr. Bugaton. Sorry. Mr Bugaton is going to be working on a special project, Craig."
"Oh, uh okay." He wasn't sure how to respond to this man who obviously knew more then he did at this point.
"So Craig, I hear you're quite the little photographer?"
"Um ya I like to shoot."
Albert had wrapped his arm around his son and Craig had tried not to wince at the bodily contact. "Craiger, I got a big surprise for you. I'm taking the spare bedroom downstairs and turning into a dark room for you! What do you think of that?"
He had forced a smile. "Wow dad, I don't know what to say."
Albert laughed. "Well how about a thank you!"
"Ya dad. Thanks."
"Now, Mr. Bugaton I want this project finished in a hurry. Craig is leaving for summer camp in a few weeks and I want him to be able to take advantage of his new present. How long do you think it will take to construct this?"
"Well Mr. Manning, with the amount of money you're paying us, I'd say defiantly by the end of the week the room will be in full gear."
Craig felt sick to his stomach listening to his dad and the contractor making deals, discussing what type of equipment and light proofing he should be doing to make the room a perfect place for his son who was one day going to be a professional photographer, and how talented he was. His dad always tried to find some way to buy him off, which is why as he looked around his present room he felt no joy at the expensive objects. They never meant anything but the bad relationship he had with his dad. He decided then that standing here wallowing in self pity wasn't doing him any good and picked up his phone to call one of his friends.
"Hello?"
"Hey Jonathan, it's me."
"Hey Craig! Whats up? You're back from camp I see."
"Ya, just got back tonight. Hey what school did you end up at?"
"My mom is sending me to a private school for boys actually. Saint. Andrews. I'm totally bumming. It sucks dude, she thinks it's a way for me to stay out of trouble. What about you?"
"Degrassi. I don't know anyone who got stuck going there. Most of the gang got transferred to Williams. You want to hang out?"
"Sure! I was thinking of calling you but I didn't think you got home for a couple of more days. I got the perfect plan."
"Uh oh. Sounds like trouble."
Jonathan laughed. "Seriously man! I got a foolproof way of getting us into Sharkies."
Craig groaned. "Man, that's what you said the last time and we wasted our entire night standing in line only to get the boot. I ended up going back to your house and got stuck looking at your mom and dad's vacation reels."
"I know, I know! I said I was sorry! I swear this time it's fullproof! I got the perfect way to get in! Come and meet me at 1st and 9th St."
Craig sighed, wondering what kind of trouble Jonathan was leading him into now.
"Craig?"
"All right, all right, I'll see ya there in thirty minutes."
"Great! See ya!"
He listened to the dial tone for a few minutes wondering if he should risk talking to his father. But anything was better then staying in this house, which sometimes seemed like it sucked all the good feelings out of you.
Slowly he gathered up his camera, which he never left the house with out. You never knew when a good photo op would come around. He crept down the stairs and followed the dim light he saw coming from down the hall where his dad's study was. He hesitated his fist raised to knock on the door. Maybe he should just go? But he knew if he left unannounced it would just further piss his father off. He gathered his courage and firmly knocked on the smooth surface of the wood.
"Dad?"
He heard a low grunt from the other side of the door, which he took as 'come in.'
Slowly he swung the door open to see his father hunched over his computer desk a book open on his lap. One of his medical books, which meant his father, was in the zone. When he got like this it was the easiest time to ask him for favors or requests.
"Dad, I'm going to go out with Jonathan for a while okay?"
"Fine. Close the door behind you and keep it quiet."
Craig softly closed the door behind him and headed out on to the front porch. He looked around him for a moment and felt a wave of disbelief. How could the night seem so calm and peaceful when all he felt was chaos and loneliness? He began to walk the fifteen-minute journey to the bus corner trying to fight off feelings of depression. He couldn't let anyone know how he felt or what was really going on. He was great at putting up fronts. If his dad really knew how things were he would encourage him to go into acting. Or maybe not. Finally he arrived at the transit just in time for the bus to pull up. Climbing aboard and handing the driver his money he hoped for a night to make him forget anything having to do with the reality of his life.
"I want to know what you said to that school nurse. I want to know what kind of false trouble you have stirred up."
"Dad I swear I didn't say anything. They made us wear shorts and a tee shirt. I couldn't help it. The bruises were showing..."
"What are you trying to say!?"
"N-Nothing. I'm really sorry dad, but I swear I didn't say anything."
Suddenly his dad reached out and grabbed his arm. Hard. He could feel his fingers digging into the bone and he couldn't help but cry out as tears smarted in his eyes.
"I don't believe you. You ungrateful little brat! After everything I do for you. You're going off to strangers and telling them our business?"
"Dad please... Let go of my arm!"
His father abruptly threw him away and as he as hit the wall with a thud, he found himself losing his balance and crumpling in a heap.
"Go get your suitcase out of the car. I don't even want to look at you right now."
Craig watched in shock at his father's retreating figure. Watched the shadow of his father eerily large slowly disappearing into his study. Was that all? He hastily scrambled up on his shaky legs and all but ran for the door. Out in the open he breathed in the fresh air and headed for the car still feeling like his mind was in a bit of a haze. His father hadn't hurt him. Not really hurt him. Sure he would have a bruised arm tomorrow but that was nothing in comparison. He opened the trunk and retrieved his luggage rolling the large one up the sidewalk and shouldering his backpack. At the front door entrance he hesitated, wondering if maybe this was some sort of mind game his dad had come up with. Maybe he was really waiting on the other side of the door. Waiting to really hurt him when his guard was down. Slowly his hand curled around the cold shiny doorknob and gave it a twist. The door gave and as it swung open Craig tensed, giving a good look from shadowy corner to shadowy corner. Nothing. Just the quiet. He breathed a sigh of relief and slugged up the stairs to the safe haven of his room. As he closed the door behind him he automatically latched all three of the locks on his doors. Better to be safe then sorry. Dropping the bags on his floor he glanced around the room, taking in his surroundings. It appeared to be the room of a spoiled boy. A brand new computer with flat screen monitor sat on an expensive cherry stained desk. A 32" flat screen TV with DVD player and satellite stood on a huge entertainment system along with an X-Box with all the trimmings. He even had his own private phone line, something most of his friends couldn't claim. To Craig however it was just a memory of a kick, a punch, a slap. Every item of luxury represented a bout of anger with his father. He could remember just before he left the huge argument that had caused all the trouble at camp. He had been protesting with his father about going away.
"But why can't I stay with Joey and Angela... I'm sure they wouldn't mind."
"I thought I told you not to bring up that man's name in this house! You are not staying with him, ever and that's final."
He wasn't sure what possessed him to protest. "But dad!"
Slam! He hadn't even prepared himself for his father's anger and the next thing he knew he was slammed up against the wall. Losing his footing he fell onto the ground and immediately he curled into a ball trying to protect himself.
"I don't want to hear that man's name! He was nothing but a damned cheater! Having an affair with your whore of a mother!"
With each word he spoke he let his foot fly, kicking him in the stomach, the legs, his arms. Craig begged his father to stop. "Please dad! I'm sorry! I'll go to camp, just stop!"
"Your mother left us, Craig! She broke my heart, abandoned you! What kind of person does that?! Huh? I never did that to you! And this is how you repay me?"
"Please, dad..." Craig sobbed quietly hoping to disquiet his father's anger.
"You're going to that camp." His father abruptly walked away, leaving Craig to sob into the carpet.
He could still feel the carpet on his cheek. The soggy rough material wet with his tears. He must have laid there for at least an hour, dimly hearing his father slam the door while he went to work. He had gingerly lifted himself off the floor, at first crawling a few feet testing his injuries, making sure he could walk. Finally standing up he groaned as his body throbbed all over. Nothing had been broken though, Craig thought back smirking, he was the expert on that. He had crawled up to bed watching the evening sun creep through his blinds. He reached into his nightstand to grab his bottle of extra strength Tylenol. Shaking four into his hand, he took it with the day old water he had left on his stand. He always had a full bottle handy in this house. Lying on his bed, it seemed to take hours until finally the darkness had overtaken him and he fell into a restless troubled sleep.
The next morning when he had woke up, he had glanced at the alarm clock to check the time. To his surprise it was past noon. His father never let him sleep in past ten, insisting that he was wasting his time and that there was plenty of stuff he could be doing. Slowly he had sat up, taking note on his pain level. He ached all over like he had a bad case of the flu. Wincing he grabbed his bottle of Tylenol and took four more. He was becoming a Tylenol junkie. He stood up and grabbed a loose long sleeved shirt of the softest material possible and a lose pair of pants of a soft expensive cotton. Shrugging into his pants and shirt he slowly undid the locks on his door and cautiously looked around. To his surprise he had heard an unfamiliar voice speaking with his father.
"Of course, Mr. Manning, I'll get right on it."
When he walked down the stairs and around the corner he saw a stranger with his father. The man was dressed in clothing that Craig knew under ordinary circumstance his father would never associate with, and so he wondered what was going on.
"Craiger! Come on down. This is Mr. Bugatony."
"Uh, it's Bugaton sir."
Albert forced a smile and nodded. "Right, Mr. Bugaton. Sorry. Mr Bugaton is going to be working on a special project, Craig."
"Oh, uh okay." He wasn't sure how to respond to this man who obviously knew more then he did at this point.
"So Craig, I hear you're quite the little photographer?"
"Um ya I like to shoot."
Albert had wrapped his arm around his son and Craig had tried not to wince at the bodily contact. "Craiger, I got a big surprise for you. I'm taking the spare bedroom downstairs and turning into a dark room for you! What do you think of that?"
He had forced a smile. "Wow dad, I don't know what to say."
Albert laughed. "Well how about a thank you!"
"Ya dad. Thanks."
"Now, Mr. Bugaton I want this project finished in a hurry. Craig is leaving for summer camp in a few weeks and I want him to be able to take advantage of his new present. How long do you think it will take to construct this?"
"Well Mr. Manning, with the amount of money you're paying us, I'd say defiantly by the end of the week the room will be in full gear."
Craig felt sick to his stomach listening to his dad and the contractor making deals, discussing what type of equipment and light proofing he should be doing to make the room a perfect place for his son who was one day going to be a professional photographer, and how talented he was. His dad always tried to find some way to buy him off, which is why as he looked around his present room he felt no joy at the expensive objects. They never meant anything but the bad relationship he had with his dad. He decided then that standing here wallowing in self pity wasn't doing him any good and picked up his phone to call one of his friends.
"Hello?"
"Hey Jonathan, it's me."
"Hey Craig! Whats up? You're back from camp I see."
"Ya, just got back tonight. Hey what school did you end up at?"
"My mom is sending me to a private school for boys actually. Saint. Andrews. I'm totally bumming. It sucks dude, she thinks it's a way for me to stay out of trouble. What about you?"
"Degrassi. I don't know anyone who got stuck going there. Most of the gang got transferred to Williams. You want to hang out?"
"Sure! I was thinking of calling you but I didn't think you got home for a couple of more days. I got the perfect plan."
"Uh oh. Sounds like trouble."
Jonathan laughed. "Seriously man! I got a foolproof way of getting us into Sharkies."
Craig groaned. "Man, that's what you said the last time and we wasted our entire night standing in line only to get the boot. I ended up going back to your house and got stuck looking at your mom and dad's vacation reels."
"I know, I know! I said I was sorry! I swear this time it's fullproof! I got the perfect way to get in! Come and meet me at 1st and 9th St."
Craig sighed, wondering what kind of trouble Jonathan was leading him into now.
"Craig?"
"All right, all right, I'll see ya there in thirty minutes."
"Great! See ya!"
He listened to the dial tone for a few minutes wondering if he should risk talking to his father. But anything was better then staying in this house, which sometimes seemed like it sucked all the good feelings out of you.
Slowly he gathered up his camera, which he never left the house with out. You never knew when a good photo op would come around. He crept down the stairs and followed the dim light he saw coming from down the hall where his dad's study was. He hesitated his fist raised to knock on the door. Maybe he should just go? But he knew if he left unannounced it would just further piss his father off. He gathered his courage and firmly knocked on the smooth surface of the wood.
"Dad?"
He heard a low grunt from the other side of the door, which he took as 'come in.'
Slowly he swung the door open to see his father hunched over his computer desk a book open on his lap. One of his medical books, which meant his father, was in the zone. When he got like this it was the easiest time to ask him for favors or requests.
"Dad, I'm going to go out with Jonathan for a while okay?"
"Fine. Close the door behind you and keep it quiet."
Craig softly closed the door behind him and headed out on to the front porch. He looked around him for a moment and felt a wave of disbelief. How could the night seem so calm and peaceful when all he felt was chaos and loneliness? He began to walk the fifteen-minute journey to the bus corner trying to fight off feelings of depression. He couldn't let anyone know how he felt or what was really going on. He was great at putting up fronts. If his dad really knew how things were he would encourage him to go into acting. Or maybe not. Finally he arrived at the transit just in time for the bus to pull up. Climbing aboard and handing the driver his money he hoped for a night to make him forget anything having to do with the reality of his life.