Chapter 2: Why Telephones Are Bad for You

It was raining. I loved the rain. One of God's greatest creations was rain. It has a million uses; and at the same time, can be very dangerous.

Have you ever thought about the great typhoons and hurricanes across the ocean? Along with wind, rain made those possible. Also, we need it to live. Most of our body was composed of water. If we did not consume it, we could not live very long.

God made us specifically so we could use water for our benefits. Why do you think that no one could be allergic to it? Life would be impossible for them, and our benevolent Creator would not allow that. Yep, I was sounding more and more like mom.

During a rainstorm, I did not typically use an umbrella, unless it was a very violent rainstorm. I took walks. The falling water made my face feel good. I was not fond of mud though. Mom scolded me whenever I tracked mud into her house. I was more concerned about the yard, but I suppose that the house deserved my attention too.

That day was rainy. I was having breakfast at a Burger King. Then, I got a phone call that I had been waiting for a long time. It was from Yale College. That phone call was supposed to change my life. My information was everywhere, but one of the most prestigious schools in the country had accepted me.

I could have gone out for that interview in the same week, if my plans were not interrupted. In the same hour that I got the call from Yale, I got another call as well. It was the one person who I had not expected to hear from. I almost did not recognize her voice.

"Christian?" the voice on the other line said.

At first, I was not sure who was calling. I did not give out the cell phone number to many people.

"Yes," I replied, "might I ask who is calling?"

"It's me, your sister."

Could it be Faith? I supposed that she would sound different but not that much different. I just saw her at Christmas. That was only four months ago. Then, I put it together. It was definitely her. Her voice was just cold and sad. She sounded fifty years old.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Why do you assume something is wrong?"

"You sound horrible." I admitted it to her and myself. Faith never sounds horrible.

"Thanks."

I did not mean it that way. But I could tell that she knew it anyway. She never sounded like this. Even during the times that mom got sick and she called to let me know, she at least had life in her voice. This time was different.

"Is something wrong with Mom?"

That was my first guess. It had to be what was going on. Faith did not have a habit of calling me. When she did, she was calling to give me a status report. The status could not be very good judging by the sound of her voice.

"How did you know?"

"Instincts."

"Christian, she is really sick. The doctor is saying that she isn't strong enough to make it this time."

My heart sank. I had heard that before, but something told me that she was right this time. Back at Christmas, mom was not moving around very well. She made dinner for us, but she stayed on the couch for most of my visit. She did not talk much either. Her smiles were weak.

"You need to come home. Mom says that she needs you in case something happens."

"I will be right there. Thanks for calling."

I did not feel much like talking. My biggest chance at my education was thrown out of the window. I had to get home to see mom. Yale could wait. If they wanted me, they could have patience while I dealt with family matters.

Faith gave a heavy sigh and hung up the phone. I put my cell in my back pocket and let my head fall to the table. Outside, the rain went from a light drizzle to a downpour. The rain obviously felt the same way that I did.

I could hear mom in my head. In fact, she was telling me to take care of the interview first. She knew how important it was to me. She must have been in horrible shape to tell me to come right away.

Mom was diagnosed with cancer seven years ago. At first, she could handle it. I supposed that all forms of cancer worked differently, but hers was not so bad at the beginning. It got worse as time passed. Mom was a strong person. If she could not beat it, no one could.

She said that it ran in the family. Now that I think about it, both of my grandparents died that way when I was little. My younger cousin did too. I can remember Aunt Carol running into our house screaming. Her son Charles was diagnosed with a rare type of cancer. I could not remember exactly what his was called, but it was deadly.

Charles spent time with us after that. He did not want to be at home. Aunt Carol could not bear to look at him in his condition. He told me that she cried everyday. He thought that by staying at our place, he was keeping her from being upset. I knew better. Aunt Carol and Uncle Chuck loved him to death. They would cry no matter where he was.

In his last hours, the five of us stayed close to him. Call it bad luck. I used to try to convince myself that we were not cursed or anything. Nature was just having its way. I was unsuccessful. He did not want us to be upset, but the reality of it was bad. My closest relatives were losing their thirteen year old son, and Faith and I were losing our cousin.

He died with a smile on his face. Charles did not fear death. He was in with my mom on the religion thing. I knew that she would be just as stubborn as he was when her time came. The last few times that I visited, she told me not to worry about her. She promised that she was fine, but I knew that she was in denial.

I was living in a run down apartment at the time. I was trying to make it on my own. Mom believed me when I told her that I was doing fine. I ended up making just enough to pay rent and buy food every month at my job. I worked as a box boy at a convenience store.

I had not been there very long. I just finished taking online courses before I left home. My goal was to barely make it on my own until I was accepted by a college. Mom told me that it would not take very long, and she was right. My grades were flawless, and my school record was perfect. I even had extracurricular activities outside of my exceptional school work.

My apartment was really starting to feel like home. I spent about a year there. At first, I hated it. Nothing was in order, and I was in the middle of a big city. I called home pretty often to keep from going insane. I started to settle down after I met the neighbors.

One of my neighbors was a crazy old man named Arnold Carver. He was a World War II veteran. He liked to tell people about his wild battles in the war. Before I got there, he visited the Senior Citizen Center because he had nothing better to do. I imagine the old people there got a kick out of him.

Once, he stopped by my room looking for a pickle. Anyone who knew me knew that I was not a big vegetable person. I did not have the pickle, so he settled for telling me his favorite war story for the hundredth time.

"I remember like it was yesterday," he always began with the same line.

He proceeded to talk about Nazi soldiers, the beaches of Normandy, and everything else you could think of. That guy was the best history teacher that I ever had. It is much better to have a living example than reading the stories in textbooks.

Another of my distractions was a couple who stayed in the apartment next to mine. They were my age, and they went out regularly. The first day in, they came to meet me and brought me a "welcome to our apartment" cake.

They introduced themselves as Amber and Matt. Matt was one year old than I was, and I was one year older than Amber. They met at college - one of those love at first sight things. I got to know them well. I spent time with them whenever I had nothing else to do. People like them remind me of home. Everyone back home was friendly with one another. Amber and Matt were very friendly.

The only other person that I found myself interested in was a guy whose name I did not know. Apparently, he lived two rooms down from me. I never spoke with him, but he gave me friendly smiles in the hall. I should have talked to him or visited him I suppose. Maybe he was just shy. Some people will not open up to you unless you open up to them first.

I asked Amber and Matt about him once. They were as curious as I was. We brushed him to the side. He may have been a decent friend if we had given him the chance.

Miss Angie Salt was the owner of the apartments. She stayed there with us all of the time. I talked with her whenever I met her in the hall. She reminded me of mom in a way. She was in her fifties, and she had long white hair which she kept in a ponytail. We called her Miss Salt although she did not want us to.

I lifted my head from the table and let out a sigh. I decided that I should hit the road quickly. The sooner I got out of this town, the sooner I could see mom. Home was a thirty-minute drive so no need to wait around.

I stopped for gas on the way out of town. Gas prices were hard on my pathetic box boy pay check. Although I did not have much to spend on it, I never complained about gas. I told myself that it was all going to a good place, not that the government was a good place.

My Mustang GT could hold a good twelve gallons. I was already on a fourth so I filled it up. I figured I would need the extra gas for one thing or another.

The drive was especially boring this time. I used to pay close attention to the wildlife as I drove. The time I did not pay attention to anything except my destination. Time flew by very slowly when doing it this way. It seemed to take an hour, not thirty minutes. I was relieved to finally make it home.

Everything was out of place. The yard was not kept up as it used to be. As a matter of fact, it looked much worse that it did at Christmas. The plants were dying, and the grass had grown out of control. Mom's Focus was under the carport.

Jack met me as I got out of the car. He was wagging his tail, but he did not look happy. He looked dirty as if he had not had a bath in awhile. I could see sadness in his eyes. I scratched his chin, and he licked my hand.

I walked up to the old, wooden door and rang the doorbell.