Chapter Text
A month after I graduated school, I finally felt some hope in my life. By god, I had done it. Made it through school, the tests, the nuns, getting my ass beat every other week. But dann! I made it. I didn’t know what I was going to do with my life past this point, sure. But isn’t that an accomplishment? I could finally look in the mirror and not see a suckling parasite feeding off me. I barely passed half of my classes but… Getting my final papers, I felt like I had done it. I had done something in life.
I let myself feel this relief for a few moments waking up that morning. Briefly opening my eyes, when they wanted to, not when they needed to. Finding my mind waking up from slumber, and getting up hours after I would have just weeks ago.
I noticed that I had woken up pretty early. The clock only read 8 AM. I’ve been sleeping in recently, and I found it a little weird that I had naturally woken up so early. But nonetheless I got up and put on clothes, not a school uniform (though I did somewhat miss it. The heavy sweater and tight collar had become part of my routine.)
Going upstairs from the basement, the familiar creak of the wooden staircase felt somewhat daunting. Would I be staying in the house forever? I did not find that sufficient in my future plan. I did not find fondness in my father and in this town, not at all. If school was one parasite on my neck, this place was a second one. I didn’t want to move to a big city. I had only been to the capital once and it was daunting. I prefer the more rural areas and fields of the country. Maybe I’d get a job for a little bit, just to make enough to buy a small house in the countryside. I’ll find myself growing my own food and maybe taking care of a dog or two. Grow old, all by myself. Alone but happy, content.
I creaked open the door, entering the main floor. I looked around to see if the house was empty, perhaps my father had already left for work. In my best case scenario, this would be true. But, I looked at head level to see him standing at the kitchen table. Before I could react, he addressed me, my full name.
“Kenneth.”
Something about that made my stomach drop, it made it churn my stomach acids into a paste. His arms were crossed and I felt as if something was off, more than usual. It looked as if he was just waiting at the chance to bark at me. I stood there, dumb. And looked behind me for a brief second as if there could be someone else he was referring to. But when I turned around again, I saw something.
Suitcases, as if someone were going on a trip. Yet there was only one, as if to tell you it was one way, and I had a feeling something was terribly wrong.
“Are we moving again?” I asked, my voice grew high with concern. I did not want to move, I did not want to go through all that trouble again. I had been moving around all the time across different towns and such for my fathers work. It’s a hassle, and I despised it.
“Kenneth.” He pressed his lips together, tight. Wrinkles forming on his chin. It almost looked as if he was going to cry out of his one good eye.
“What?”
My father stared at me as if I were a dunce and not as if I had just woken up 10 minutes prior. I felt that paste in my stomach grow nastier and foul. My mind was still new from the dreams I was having of a good life prior. I was so stupid.
His sigh trembled when he picked up a suitcase by its handle and walked over to hand it to me. My hand was reluctant to grab it but eventually did. The traces of his fingers lingered on mine for a moment before pulling away. He spoke up.
“I’ve enrolled you in the military. I… did the paperwork for you. You’ll be serving at least 4 years. Kenneth, you have no future. You were hell of a child to raise. I’ve said it before but before— you never listened: You need discipline, and you need it quickly. If that needs to be through brute force, then so be it. But I’m no longer going to enthrall you in your madness and gluttony of what life has given you. You may hate me for this, but one day, you’ll thank me. And when that day comes I hope you’ll find some sympathy and maybe some resentment for the man you could’ve grown up to be. But for now, you are going to change. Whether you like it or not.”
He said this as if he had rehearsed this in the mirror for hours yet still fumbled at moments. He fumbled one last time as he whispered under his breath one last time.
“Kenneth.”
He whispered it in a way you whisper someone’s name in their ear as you lean down to see them one last time at an open casket funeral. How you whisper someone’s name during your last moment with them as you hug them before they get on that plane. Or how…
I’m never going to see him again.
I didn’t cry. I couldn’t even say I fought it. I opened that suitcase he handed me and opened it to find a camouflage uniform, he told me to put it on. A bus will be here to pick you up soon. I did as he said. Water built on my eyes but not once did they shed. Not once did I scream. I think I was in denial. This wasn’t happening. As I laced up boots high on my leg. I felt as if an audience was watching. Except they all had mixed emotions. Some were cheering, some were screaming protests in boo’s, and some? Simply weren’t there at all.
My father had the courtesy to help me with my bags and wait with me on the front lawn for the bus to come. A few times he took a breath as if he were about to say something, but eventually decided against it, or maybe just choked on his breath. I straightened my back. It made my stomach poke out in my tucked in too tight shirt. Gluttonus, he had called me. I suppose that was true, but I knew I was not eating well where I was going.
At 8:32 AM a bus pulled up and opened its doors. A ragged looking man, ruly in appearance sat in the driver’s seat. I sort of hyperfocused on his appearance at that moment. Is that what I’ll look like? Like that? My father nudged me forward, as if to tell me to get going. My boots were blistering. This uniform, so tight, made me look so fat. My hair whistled in the wind and my hand jerked up, dropping my suit case. My mouth agape, I stared at my father, tugging on my own rat tail. Staring at him with big eyes, “It’s gonna go?” I spoke to him through sight. He stared back and in a moment he understood, and nodded.
He nudged me forward again with a hand on my back, and put my suitcase back in my hand. My face grew hot as I slowly stepped towards the bus. Dragging my feet, I knew I had to go. Because he was right, there was no life for me.
I was dead.
When I walked onto that bus I really did feel dead. I climbed onto it, and each step felt as if I was walking through a murky pond with a million leaching parasites grabbing onto me. They made my steps heavy and they grew more and more from the ground. Until I had reached the top, and turned.
I saw a bus about halfway filled with other men. All in the same camo uniform but all in varying ages. This was the bus for men condemned but unable to travel to their damnation. I stared in a daze for a few moments before the bus driver barked at me. “Sit down, son!”
I fell into the nearest seat, and grabbed my head in despair. This was real, really for real. I covered my eyes and pressed my thumbs into them hard so I wouldn’t cry. I didn’t want to go, I wanted to be with my mother.
I didn’t look out the window as we drove away to see if my father watched me one last time. I sat hunched over in misery, and I knew that this was it. That this was my life.
God, forgive me and my gluttony.