Forgotten Wind: Disclosed Memories

Chapter 2: Time to Switch

PART III

My third class was Personal Finance with Ms. West, who possessed fair principles and standards. The main goal of her class- as she explained already on the first day - was to manage our money in the near future and encompass financial consolidation. This class always seemed to peek my interests for some reason.

As she began teaching the class, she reminded us that we were due to take a quiz. The quizzes we took usually amounted between 5-10 questions so it didn't take us that much time, as long as we got a good grade.

Today's quiz was 20 questions and I was the first one to finish them quickly.  My score came out to a 96.

It was now 1:23 pm. It was time for my last period, Physical Science. The man who taught the class was Mr. Inman. To describe him, he was proactive and diligent in a careful manner. He was sturdy of average height with unkempt tan hair, faded green eyes with dark pupils, and a beard. He could always be stern if we didn't follow his directions. In his class, my grades were mostly A's because of his tests and assignments for me were facile.

Today, we were finishing up the chemical equations unit that we started last week. We were behind, but we managed to complete most of them.  We copied down some notes, tried some examples, and began the assignment. It was quite an understanding for me. The only problem I had trouble with was balancing the numbers on both sides. But I got the hang of it eventually.

When 3:00 pm came, I quickly departed out the door and down the corridor of stairs with Joe. Then we walked through the crowded hallway of rowdy students that were eagerly persistent to get home. As soon as we got outside, we said goodbye to each other and headed toward our individual buses. I walked aboard and sat down in my same old seat. I looked out the window and saw the other pile of students getting onto buses or walking to the crosswalk on the street.

Shortly after the rest got on the bus, we began to drive away. I continued to look out the window, seeing students on other buses with their eyes stuck to their phones or students chatting with each other informally with no consent of direct attention around them. I looked at the buildings that we pass by, each one was so unrecognizable than the last. After we took our usual route and almost came close to my street, I took off my jacket - the way I always did - and prepared to get off the bus.

We stopped at the intersection of my neighborhood street and I got off the bus, saying goodbye to my bus driver. As soon as the bus drove off, I looked up and saw the sky becoming clearer with the clouds drifting away. I walked up onto the porch of my home and see my family sitting down on the chairs that we had for years.

My father came outside and asked me how my day was.

"Okay, I guess," I told him, but aware that I lied because it wasn't a good day. It wasn't an okay day at all. In fact, today was... miserable.

Next Tuesday morning, my father was set to leave for rehab. It was early September and I... you know what? You're probably lost on this. Let me explain this sensibly.

My name is Max, as you already know, but what you don't know is my history. My childhood. And that's just what I'm going to fill you in on.

I was born in the middle of June, giving you the familiar aspect that I'm a Gemini. But we're not talking about zodiac signs right now. I was given birth by my mother, a woman who I never got the chance to meet until the week that she died. Given as I was told by my family so far, she was an alcoholic. She continued to drink at the age of 19 and kept on while she was pregnant with me. She wasn't fit to take care of me so I was given custody to my grandmother. Growing up, I also had four siblings who were all older than me. They were basically in their mid-20s. On numerous occasions, I wished to see them and my mother. They wanted to see me... but my mother didn't.

My dad hasn't always been a positive "influence" on me most of the time. Other times weren't exactly...delicate as I'd like to put it. After my father began to stay with us for a while, everything was going alright until it didn't. He drunk a lot also-which is the main reason why we sent him to rehab about 3 times this year and in the past.

He keeps saying that he's gonna change and frankly, I think it's just not worth my time to believe him over and over again. But I have to, for him. Not because he's my father, but because it's not... Nah. Forget it.

Anyway, I kinda want to mention a problem that turned into an obsession between our old neighbor and my father, but I'll talk about that another time. As I've mentioned a while ago, my dad is an alcoholic and he drunk a lot more than usual when he went on and out of the house. This causes my grandmother to go into a breaking point with his reckless and annoying behavior.

His behavior also turned into arguments between him and my uncle Lionel. So much swearing that came out of their mouths went into my ears, influencing my sensitive personality.

The next morning, it was Saturday -8:00a.m.- and I got out of bed and opened my blinds to see the "joyful sunlight" that I endured. I turned on my TV and prepared to make my bed as I listened to the news.

"Breaking news!" The news announcer spoke, "missing 15-year-old Alexis Davis was found dead in a dump outside of the Lakewood High school 10 hours ago. Police have not found the kidnapper nor found any traces of the murderer. We'll have more after this. "

I finished making up my bed and put on my clothes. I then went to the kitchen and saw my father with a large basket of his clothes. I guess he was washing them at the unfortunate last-minute, considering the fact that it was raining heavily outside. He put his clothes in and closed the washing machine as he walked past me into the living room.

I looked at the contents of the machine inside and saw that he forgot to put in the detergent. I left it alone and closed the washing machine. They were his clothes. What did he expect me to do? Put in the detergent if he forgot. He's a grown man,  I'm sure he can do it himself.

Dad usually forgot whatever the weather was gonna be like when he decided to wash his clothes. He also didn't wash his clothes at the earliest time possible. Today's rain was a perfect example.

The phone rang and dad answered it quickly. We had called ID on the tv so he must've seen someone 's number he recognized. I opened the pantry closet and took out a box of cereal, poured it into a bowl on the table. I grabbed a spoon from the dish rack and started eating at the table.

Dad came back into the kitchen shortly after.

"Hey, son." He said to me in an apathetic voice.

I didn't reply and continued eating my cereal. I put the spoon down for a second and looked his way.

"Who was on the phone?" I asked.

" Telemarketer," he said abruptly.

I shrugged my shoulders and went back to eating my cereal.

My Uncle Lionel came out of his room a few minutes after and walked into the kitchen, greeting me with a good morning. He was blind -just like one of my other uncles - but he navigated around the house pretty well thanks to his adjusted senses.

He felt around in the fridge for a water bottle and took it with him in the living room. I noticed his nonchalant attitude towards my father when dad said good morning to him. I washed my bowl out after getting done with my cereal and went to my grandmother's room. She came out, wearing her pajama jacket and a tired expression on her face.

Yawning, she asked if I had made her some coffee this morning. I told her that there wasn't any left in the pantry.

"Could you walk over to Nellie's house and ask her if she has any coffee to spare?" She told me.

" Sure, " I said to her, "let me go get my shoes."

I walked into my room and took my walking shoes out of the closet. I've had them for a couple of years and they still fit. They were tight but they apparently still fit.  

I looked outside the door and saw the heavy rain pour immensely from the gray bleak sky.  It was raining harder than before early this morning. I noticed how harsh the wind blew when I saw a garbage can tip over on the street and a few chairs from a house blew away onto another person's yard. 

I tightened my raincoat around myself and stepped outside, closing the door behind me. I stepped onto the wet sidewalk of my house and walked onward to Nellie's house through the thick, soggy, wet mud that overlapped the grass.

Nellie was a nice woman. I'd say she's rather, independent, if I may say. She has a couple of grandchildren, one of which I adore the most named Bluebird. He's named that because she says the first thing that he's always thinking about are bluebirds. Coincidentally ironic, isn't it? 

Being a close friend of my grandmother and uncle (and my dad...), she was a trustworthy person with not a hindered sense of responsibility. 

I crossed a few more wet yards until I finally reached Nellie's house. Her chairs were set neatly under her shade roof to prevent them from getting wet. One of the chairs had a crack in them across the seat. 

I knocked on the hard wet door and stepped back to wait for her to respond and open the door.  There was silence for a couple of seconds and then I heard a voice from the upstairs window saying they were coming. I assumed it was Nellie, taking a nap.  I wouldn't blame her. Who wouldn't want to take a nap during this weather? 

She opened the front door and came up to the screen door, squinting a bit to see who the person at her door was.

"Oh, hey max!" She said. "Come on in, looks like it's pouring down out here" 

She wasn't kidding. As soon as I came inside, I looked down at my shoes and saw that they were completely soaked with a drenched, sopping mixture of mud and water.

I walked only a few steps more, carefully trying not to track mud on her floor.

"Hi, Nellie" I replied back to her, " My grandma was wondering if you had some coffee she could borrow. She ran out."

"Oh, sure. Wait right here, I'll go get it." She said as she walked into the kitchen.

I sat down on her beige couch and looked around the room as I waited for her to bring the coffee back. I lied back and listened to the light pattering of the rain that fell from the sky. I closed my eyes. It was quite noticeable about the silence throughout the house. There wasn't very much noise outside either as all I could hear was cars passing by on the road.

After a few minutes, Nellie came back out of the kitchen with a small container of coffee.

"Here you go, Max." She said as she handed me the full container.

"Thank you," I replied. "I'll tell Uncle Lionel to call you later."

She nodded as I walked out of her door.

It was very cold as I was walking back to the house. The ground was now muddy and soaking wet, and the air was hazy with dense fog. Behind me, I could hear the low rumbling of thunder indicating that there was going to be more than a storm later.

But I'm sure it wasn't going to be that intense.

When I got back, I made Grandma's coffee and cleaned the rest of the dishes that morning before Aunt Helen came. I know she'd be persistent if she found out that I left one dirty dish in the sink.

I went to my room after and pulled out my notebook from my backpack. I had a test on Tuesday so I thought this was the earliest time to study. As I sat on the bed beginning to study, the TV was announcing an amber alert. The announcement stated that a Latino boy with dark hair, brown eyes, and light skin had last been seen at Winston Park three days ago.

I turned the TV off and continued to study.

The next morning, I found myself more tired than usual when I got out of bed. My body was a little limp but I shrugged it off as I was getting dressed. It was 5:00 a. m. and I touched the surface of the window to see how cold it would be today. Then I was startled when I jumped back to the sound of a large bang against my window. The abrupt knock came at my window again.

"Who is it?" I asked.

"It's me, son." I heard my father's voice say, "Can you open the door?"

I peeked through space in my window to see him standing outside, his face close to the screen of my window. I went to the front door and opened it for him. He quickly came in and sat on the couch. His arms were folded over his chest as he was still shivering a bit from the cold.

I grabbed my backpack from my room along with my winter jacket and gloves and headed out on the front porch. Looks like I came back just in time because I saw the bus beginning to turn down my street.

"See you later, Dad," I told my father.

He didn't reply. He gave me a reluctant stare and walked out of the living room.