"Michael"
My roommate had just left our room. I finally had a few moments peace. It's not as though I didn't love Sylvie. She was amazing from start to finish... vivacious, gregarious, charming, and intensely loving; she took good care of me that one... but the one thing she never was... was quiet. -smiling-
I had just laid down on my single, shut my eyes, the sun heating up the room as it beat against the tall shade-covered window. It was then that the phone rang. No big drama, right? A ringing phone... and I always have this habit of playing "guess who's on the other end" with myself before I pick it up. I guess it's a long held custom with me. I was sure it was Sylvie's dad. He barely spoke a word of English and my French, while interesting, wasn't good enough for us to parlay. -grinning-
I picked up the receiver, fully prepared for our usual chat (he always seemed to call the minute that girl walked out of the room) when a completely unfamiliar voice said, "Hi."
Jen: "Hey."
Unknown guy: "What are you doing?"
Jen: "Oh, I just laid down."
Unknown guy: "I'm sorry, were you sleeping."
Jen: "No, I was about to though."
See, at this time we were speaking so plainly that I thought for sure I had to know him... but I'd just somehow misplaced the voice. It wasn't until he apologized again leaving a very thin dead air after it that I started to wonder who the hell it really was.
Jen: "Who is this?"
Unknown guy: "Oh, well... umm... you don't know me."
Jen: "I don't know you?" (try and discern the skepticism in my voice here)
Unknown guy: "Well, not really."
Jen: "I don't know you, not really?" (and now the sarcasm)
Unknown guy: "Not really."
I'm sure I was smirking. My first few minutes of quiet in probably days and my peace was being invaded by some guy I didn't know. Well, not really.
Jen: "Did you misdial?"
Unknown guy: "No."
Jen: "Hmm... okay, I'm confused. We don't know one another and yet you didn't misdial. Can you explain that to me?"
Unknown guy: "I just... needed someone."
Bells and whistles were ringing... and I wasn't in the mood for phone sex.
Jen: "Umm, needed someone?"
Unknown guy: "Yeah."
Jen: "For what?" (I really hated to sound so obvious here)
Unknown guy: "To talk to." (shew)
Jen: "Okay. What about?"
And this started our two hour conversation. I had never been randomly called before and I wasn't so naive as to believe that I could trust everything coming from this guys mouth... if I even trusted half of it. He settled on the name "Michael", began to tell me about how his mother had been molesting him for years, told me about how his father had split when he was a little boy. It seemed that he had taken up the desire for drugs and thought for sure that he was gay, but how would he know? He wanted to know if I thought his lifestyle was wrong? Then he wanted me to tell him what to do. Michael said he was only seventeen.
That hot afternoon as the day grew longer, I told Michael every opinion I had. I told him that his mother had no right to abuse him. I told him that it wasn't for anyone to judge his sexual preference, that he'd know if it was right for him with time. I told him that the drugs concerned me, but that I could understand where his desire to use them came from. I told him to talk with his school counselor, to try and find a place for himself, to just hold on... that things are always changing just down the road... and that one day his life would too. I admit though that I also told Michael never to call our number again. I shut my eyes when I think of this now... I had my reasons back then... I had my concerns. I didn't want Sylvie to have to deal with it. I didn't want him to become obsessed. I remember the hurt in his voice when I said it, but he agreed.
Michael called back one last time, almost eight months later. He said he had taken a lot of my advice, apologized profusely for calling again, but he needed my help. He'd fallen in with bad company. He had gotten out of his house and away from his mom, but in order to do that he had to make ends-meet. He'd taken to giving quick screws at the local porn store for a fast twenty. He was scared he might be sick.
My heart broke for the second time then for poor Michael. Every avenue, every exit, every open door and available window seemed to somehow lead him in the wrong direction. I told him about the free clinic. I asked him if he was still using, he told me he was clean, but I'm almost certain that was a lie. Even in our first conversation I could hear his need for acceptance. My acceptance. Nothing much had changed.
I left the dorm a few months later. Our number was disconnected so if he ever tried again, he would have failed. Last night I was in the bathtub and suddenly... from out of the blue... this image came back. It was the mental image of Michael I had created over ten years ago. I don't know what happened to him. I don't know the results of his tests. I don't know if he's still selling his body and searching for his soul. I don't even know if he's alive yet today. All I know is that I think about him from time-to-time, a boy I never knew... and I wonder if anything good finally came of him. I'm hoping so.
I had just laid down on my single, shut my eyes, the sun heating up the room as it beat against the tall shade-covered window. It was then that the phone rang. No big drama, right? A ringing phone... and I always have this habit of playing "guess who's on the other end" with myself before I pick it up. I guess it's a long held custom with me. I was sure it was Sylvie's dad. He barely spoke a word of English and my French, while interesting, wasn't good enough for us to parlay. -grinning-
I picked up the receiver, fully prepared for our usual chat (he always seemed to call the minute that girl walked out of the room) when a completely unfamiliar voice said, "Hi."
Jen: "Hey."
Unknown guy: "What are you doing?"
Jen: "Oh, I just laid down."
Unknown guy: "I'm sorry, were you sleeping."
Jen: "No, I was about to though."
See, at this time we were speaking so plainly that I thought for sure I had to know him... but I'd just somehow misplaced the voice. It wasn't until he apologized again leaving a very thin dead air after it that I started to wonder who the hell it really was.
Jen: "Who is this?"
Unknown guy: "Oh, well... umm... you don't know me."
Jen: "I don't know you?" (try and discern the skepticism in my voice here)
Unknown guy: "Well, not really."
Jen: "I don't know you, not really?" (and now the sarcasm)
Unknown guy: "Not really."
I'm sure I was smirking. My first few minutes of quiet in probably days and my peace was being invaded by some guy I didn't know. Well, not really.
Jen: "Did you misdial?"
Unknown guy: "No."
Jen: "Hmm... okay, I'm confused. We don't know one another and yet you didn't misdial. Can you explain that to me?"
Unknown guy: "I just... needed someone."
Bells and whistles were ringing... and I wasn't in the mood for phone sex.
Jen: "Umm, needed someone?"
Unknown guy: "Yeah."
Jen: "For what?" (I really hated to sound so obvious here)
Unknown guy: "To talk to." (shew)
Jen: "Okay. What about?"
And this started our two hour conversation. I had never been randomly called before and I wasn't so naive as to believe that I could trust everything coming from this guys mouth... if I even trusted half of it. He settled on the name "Michael", began to tell me about how his mother had been molesting him for years, told me about how his father had split when he was a little boy. It seemed that he had taken up the desire for drugs and thought for sure that he was gay, but how would he know? He wanted to know if I thought his lifestyle was wrong? Then he wanted me to tell him what to do. Michael said he was only seventeen.
That hot afternoon as the day grew longer, I told Michael every opinion I had. I told him that his mother had no right to abuse him. I told him that it wasn't for anyone to judge his sexual preference, that he'd know if it was right for him with time. I told him that the drugs concerned me, but that I could understand where his desire to use them came from. I told him to talk with his school counselor, to try and find a place for himself, to just hold on... that things are always changing just down the road... and that one day his life would too. I admit though that I also told Michael never to call our number again. I shut my eyes when I think of this now... I had my reasons back then... I had my concerns. I didn't want Sylvie to have to deal with it. I didn't want him to become obsessed. I remember the hurt in his voice when I said it, but he agreed.
Michael called back one last time, almost eight months later. He said he had taken a lot of my advice, apologized profusely for calling again, but he needed my help. He'd fallen in with bad company. He had gotten out of his house and away from his mom, but in order to do that he had to make ends-meet. He'd taken to giving quick screws at the local porn store for a fast twenty. He was scared he might be sick.
My heart broke for the second time then for poor Michael. Every avenue, every exit, every open door and available window seemed to somehow lead him in the wrong direction. I told him about the free clinic. I asked him if he was still using, he told me he was clean, but I'm almost certain that was a lie. Even in our first conversation I could hear his need for acceptance. My acceptance. Nothing much had changed.
I left the dorm a few months later. Our number was disconnected so if he ever tried again, he would have failed. Last night I was in the bathtub and suddenly... from out of the blue... this image came back. It was the mental image of Michael I had created over ten years ago. I don't know what happened to him. I don't know the results of his tests. I don't know if he's still selling his body and searching for his soul. I don't even know if he's alive yet today. All I know is that I think about him from time-to-time, a boy I never knew... and I wonder if anything good finally came of him. I'm hoping so.