#20 – Home

Marco

I pride myself on being level-headed. Most of the time.

Sometimes I freak out. I'll be the first to admit it. But there's always a reason for my freak-out. I guess that's why what happened on a random Tuesday kind of shook me up.

I won't bore you with details, but I fell asleep in Physical Science. Had a very unpleasant dream about my dad being decapitated by Visser Three. Woke up to the teacher telling me I'd failed the quiz I'd fallen asleep on top of, and that she was throwing in a detention for sleeping in class to boot. As I was leaving class, a sub-human puke named Garrett tripped me. I sprawled out onto the floor with the class laughing at me and blood running from a cut on my chin.

I remember the thought I had very clearly as I walked out of the building and directly away from the school, even though I still had three classes before the end of the day. This is what I'm risking my life for? To save these jackasses? Not anymore, pal, not me.

I had no destination in mind. I couldn't go home, because my dad would be there. It was his week to work swing shift. I didn't want to morph. I didn't want to even think about morphing. I didn't want to think about anything. I just needed to feel like I was doing something besides being the world's biggest doormat. I needed to disappear for a while.

Without consciously deciding to go there, I found myself at the bowling alley. Not the nice one uptown, but the crappy one downtown that smelled like moldy bread, stale beer, and cigarettes. I relished that stink as I walked in. I had gone here all the time, back when my mom first disappeared and my dad lost his mind. It stank, but it was a comforting stink, if you can dig it. It was the smell of escape.

The voice behind the counter made me fall another ten feet down the rabbit hole – it was Charlie. Same old Charlie – gruff, bad-mouthed, chubby Charlie. I smiled at him, though, because I knew Charlie was also the world's biggest softie behind that rough exterior. Charlie was a Certified Friend of the Truant. "If it ain't Marco. Thought you got too good for us, pal. Still a size five?"

"Hey, Charlie," I said, instantly feeling better. "It's actually a size seven now, but I just came to say hi. I only have…" I rummaged in my pocket and came out with the goods. "A dollar seventeen."

He turned around and searched under the counter, showing his plumber's crack, and put some shoes in front of him. "That dollar will get you a Coke. Free refills, you know – damn government hasn't put me so far in the poor house I can't give free refills no more. Hasn't put me so far in that I can't offer an old friend a free lane for an hour or two, either. How's your pops?"

This little bit of casual kindness almost brought me to tears. When you get used to being crapped on all the time, a little bit of unexpected niceness can really catch you off-guard, in the best way. Charlie pretended not to see as I stuffed the tears back down my throat. "He's good, man, thanks. How've you been?"

"Same old shit, different day," was his usual reply. He added something to it this time, though, after uncomfortably looking down at his sneakers. "You know I always liked you, kid. I got worried when I didn't see you for a while. Glad you're okay."

The tears welled up again, and I had a harder time forcing them away. "I'm good. Sorry I haven't come by in a long time." It was lame, but I couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Yeah, well, you're growin' up. Can't spend all your time hanging around bowling alleys. Gimme that dollar, and Jess'll bring your Coke. Lane sixteen."

I couldn't help it. I was like a boxer who was feeling the effects of accumulated punches…these jabs of kindness had me rocked. I wiped my eyes, embarrassed, and said, "Thank you, Charlie."

He turned away from me, but not before I saw a suspicious gleam in his own eye. "You always got a home here, Marco. Even if the place does smell like shit."