from a collection of short stories. for Shawn.
Hours went by and Mish peeked through the blanketed, blacked-out windows to see the sky lightening and the sun peering over the city’s concrete horizon. Another sleepless night. He could feel his brain festering from exhaustion. Although Sunny had lain motionless all night, as he sat up Mish could see the same fatigue sitting beneath his eyelids, spreading itself through his face and towards the back of his head. Quick eye contact, Sunny’s gaze darting away, frantic in its motion.
“Time to go.” Sunny said, stone faced. Mish didn’t say anything, only winced sightly, grabbing his camera and slinging it over his shoulder. He kicked the back van door open and slipped his shoes on. The soles were filled with holes, so that the balls of his feet contacted the hot cement when he placed them on the ground. It was about 6:30 am, life beginning around them, cars already piling up into rows of traffic. The rain has subsided, and the sky was a bright blue, a few clouds meandering by. Still sitting on the edge of the tailgate, legs dangling down, Mish glanced over next to his sleeping bag where his skateboard lay, reaching over to grab it. Sunny was already making his way around the car, rustling through the side door pockets, collecting things for the day. He muttered under his breath, and then getting louder: “Mish, hurry up, you’re being slow.” Mish winced again.
This day started as many had recently. Sunny, walking with a brisk step in front of Mish, with a subtle but manic look behind his eyelids. Mish slugging behind, gear in hand, skateboard slung across his shoulder with a thin tattered rope. As they walked, he thought of home. He thought of the chalkboard in his old bedroom, a prayer written in rickety handwriting across its surface. And then his mind jumped to church, the white pillars and the wooden pews. The feeling of boredom, anticipation of the services end, his mind focused on the high curb behind the rec centre, ready to run home for his board.
The boys were the result of a bizarre upbringing. The first years of their life, they had lived with a drug addicted mother and an abusive father. When Mish was three years old and Sunny seven, they found themselves in child protective services. After a short period travelling through a handful of foster homes, they were adopted by a woman named dierdre, who raised them from that point on. Their young brains were affected through the trauma of their first years, but also through the lifestyle in which they had landed. Behavioural issues arose from the abuse of their birth parents, and the boys were not able to take part in normal schooling. No school seemed to have the resources to help them. So, Deirdre began to home-school them. Working full time as a nurse at the local hospital in Elyria, she would come home in the late afternoon and school them in the after-hours. She was a powerful woman, stubborn but strong, dogmatic and proud. A Christian, she brought the boys to Sunday school every week. God was her life, and she made God the boys’ lives as well.
He remembered what his mother had said to him last time they spoke. “You boys need to tend to God, go find a church out there.” He grimaced at this. His mother would never be able to understand who he was now.
