Mechanical Michelangelo part 30
THIRTY Teardrop
Justin dialled his mom’s number with shaking fingers. He couldn’t do this anymore, not now the money had run out and he couldn’t stay in the dive they called a hostel.
He couldn’t do *that* to get money, not again. It wasn’t like he came from a shitty home, he wasn’t abused as a child and he was doing well in school. He didn’t deserve to be on the streets. How fucked up did that sound? He could feel their stares, it was as if they knew he was a country club brat and he had no business being here. He should go back. Back to the lover who never wanted him, the mother who dumped him on the lover who never wanted him and the father who left them all because of the son and his disgusting lifestyle.
He listened to the never ending ring and prayed his mom would pick up. His heart jumped into his throat when he heard that telltale click. Relief washed through his body and he wilted against the cool glass of the booth.
“Taylor residence.”
His pulse started to beat painfully and tears beaded in his eyes, rolling down his cheek. He promised himself that he wouldn’t fall apart, that he’d be brave and not show in the tone of his voice how very afraid he was. “Dad?” His voice cracked, and he forgot all about the arguing, the disappointment. He just wanted his father to come and pick up, tell him it was all a bad dream and to forget it, like he used to.
“Justin, is that you Justin?”
“Yeah, it’s me.” He clutched the phone tightly, feeding the slot the rest of his change.
“Where the hell have you been?”
He had forgotten, in the depth of his father’s voice, the slight lilt to his words, that they hadn’t left on good terms, that he would never be the man who took the nightmares away again.
“I’m sorry…Is mom there?” Please let her be there.
“She’s sleeping at the moment.” The sentence was loaded with other meanings and Justin felt his heart break into tiny pieces.
It was OK, he could do this, he could speak to his father and not fall apart, he could agree to whatever terms he wanted, if only he could go home.
“You’re getting on better?” He gave a little cough, clearing his throat as the words got stuck.
“Apart from your disappearance, we’ve been getting along much better. I suppose, we should thank you for bringing us together again.”
Panic settled like ice inside his bones, it calmed him, gave him clarity and the strength to talk to the only man who, he’d once thought, would love him forever. “I’m glad you’re not fighting anymore.”
“Your theatrics are getting tiresome. When you’re here you cause trouble and when you’re not you cause it. We have other people to think about here. Your sister is getting sadly neglected with all your hysterics. When are you coming home, Justin?”
Come and pick me up, take me in your arms and tell me that monsters don’t lurk in dark corners and then tell me you love me. “I’m not coming home. I phoned to tell mom I’d got a job, that once I’m settled I’ll call and give you my address.” Someone knocked on the glass, making Justin flinch, he turned away, pressing the phone closer to his ear.
“Where are you, Justin? What about school.”
“I’m running out of change for the phone, I’ll call later with details, give mom and Molly my love.” He placed the receiver into the cradle with a bang, his hand was shaking. He wiped away his tears until his cheeks were dry and his eyes burned.
He stepped out of the phone booth and took out his sketch book, looking at old drawings of his dad, of his mom, sister and Brian, then of later drawings, the tourists of New York, landmarks he was sure would make him enough money to stay in the hostel an extra night.
Raindrops fell on the pages, blurring pencil lines and buckling the paper. They were just marks on a page, meaningless in value and personally, no wonder no one wanted to part with their money for them.
He stopped next to an overfilled bin, pulling pencils out of his pocket he threw them on top, and with one last look at a blurred picture of his father, he shoved the sketchbook deep into the garbage.
He wondered through the streets for a while, not wanting to stay in one place for too long. The rain soaked through his jacket until he was painfully numb. There had to be a way he could make this work. It was time he did things on his own and didn’t rely on people. It was unfair to be such a burden to Brian, and if he was honest with himself, he knew that it couldn’t work, not in the long term. He had thought he’d always end up back with his mom, once she’d gotten used to his life style, but that wasn’t an option any longer either.
It wasn’t such a big deal. Hundreds of people did it every day. He could take care of himself, he’d make a new life for himself, let karma attack him at full force for the stress he’d put on every one.
Maybe it was what he’d deserved.
He believed in fate, everything happened for a reason. He frowned inwardly, or maybe it was karma he believed in. What goes around comes around. He’d taken his filthy lifestyle away from his parents and they were finally getting their act together.
He’d refused to give up his filthy lifestyle and now it might be the only thing that would save him.
He stopped walking, looking up at an old building, more windows boarded up than not. He could make out a sign saying Night Stop Café and he peered through the grimy windows, towards a table of young boys leaning into the centre, littered coffee cups and empty crisp packets all around them.
It was a pathetic sight, but it looked safe, and warm. It was a million miles away from his old life and that was how he wanted it now.
He pushed on the door, the bell tinkling weakly above him.
Everyone stopped talking and looked at him, he was rooted to the spot and not even the warmth was enough to keep him there. He stepped closer the door again, intent of getting out of there when one of them stood up, chair scraping back. This was a bad idea. They didn’t look safe at all anymore, they looked-hopeless, sad and dejected, they looked at him like he was little more than a piece of meat.
“No, wait.” His build seemed vaguely familiar, the voice sending shivers down his spine. But Justin didn’t recognise him in the brightly lit diner. His hair fell messily around his face and he was only a little bigger than Justin in size. He had a dimple in one corner of his mouth when he smiled and Justin wondered what the hell he had to smile about.
“Don’t go. You’re the guy from the other night. I’ll get you a coffee, my treat.” Justin stood mutely, not responding at all. This guy was barely older than he was, his skin was smooth, hair natural and body toned, yet Justin could see the harsh realities life had brought him and he couldn’t be mad for his intervention that night.
“Don’t you think there’s enough competition as there is?” Someone said and Justin wasn’t quite sure what he meant, he only knew he felt resigned to this.
“Nah, new faces help keep the regulars regular, man.”
“I’m Cam.” Cam placed a steaming cup of coffee in Justin’s hands, ignoring the conversation going on around them. His eyes were friendly, apologetic and dead. “I’m sorry about the other night-“
Justin shut his eyes, blanked out that night. “Don’t. I don’t want to talk about it. People do what they have to do.”
Cam nodded, a half smile gracing his face, giving his expression a little life. “Ain’t that the truth?”
Cam pushed Justin towards the group of boys, made room for him and sat him down. Justin knew there would be a price for their kindness, but it was a price he’d rather pay than the alternative.
Justin dialled his mom’s number with shaking fingers. He couldn’t do this anymore, not now the money had run out and he couldn’t stay in the dive they called a hostel.
He couldn’t do *that* to get money, not again. It wasn’t like he came from a shitty home, he wasn’t abused as a child and he was doing well in school. He didn’t deserve to be on the streets. How fucked up did that sound? He could feel their stares, it was as if they knew he was a country club brat and he had no business being here. He should go back. Back to the lover who never wanted him, the mother who dumped him on the lover who never wanted him and the father who left them all because of the son and his disgusting lifestyle.
He listened to the never ending ring and prayed his mom would pick up. His heart jumped into his throat when he heard that telltale click. Relief washed through his body and he wilted against the cool glass of the booth.
“Taylor residence.”
His pulse started to beat painfully and tears beaded in his eyes, rolling down his cheek. He promised himself that he wouldn’t fall apart, that he’d be brave and not show in the tone of his voice how very afraid he was. “Dad?” His voice cracked, and he forgot all about the arguing, the disappointment. He just wanted his father to come and pick up, tell him it was all a bad dream and to forget it, like he used to.
“Justin, is that you Justin?”
“Yeah, it’s me.” He clutched the phone tightly, feeding the slot the rest of his change.
“Where the hell have you been?”
He had forgotten, in the depth of his father’s voice, the slight lilt to his words, that they hadn’t left on good terms, that he would never be the man who took the nightmares away again.
“I’m sorry…Is mom there?” Please let her be there.
“She’s sleeping at the moment.” The sentence was loaded with other meanings and Justin felt his heart break into tiny pieces.
It was OK, he could do this, he could speak to his father and not fall apart, he could agree to whatever terms he wanted, if only he could go home.
“You’re getting on better?” He gave a little cough, clearing his throat as the words got stuck.
“Apart from your disappearance, we’ve been getting along much better. I suppose, we should thank you for bringing us together again.”
Panic settled like ice inside his bones, it calmed him, gave him clarity and the strength to talk to the only man who, he’d once thought, would love him forever. “I’m glad you’re not fighting anymore.”
“Your theatrics are getting tiresome. When you’re here you cause trouble and when you’re not you cause it. We have other people to think about here. Your sister is getting sadly neglected with all your hysterics. When are you coming home, Justin?”
Come and pick me up, take me in your arms and tell me that monsters don’t lurk in dark corners and then tell me you love me. “I’m not coming home. I phoned to tell mom I’d got a job, that once I’m settled I’ll call and give you my address.” Someone knocked on the glass, making Justin flinch, he turned away, pressing the phone closer to his ear.
“Where are you, Justin? What about school.”
“I’m running out of change for the phone, I’ll call later with details, give mom and Molly my love.” He placed the receiver into the cradle with a bang, his hand was shaking. He wiped away his tears until his cheeks were dry and his eyes burned.
He stepped out of the phone booth and took out his sketch book, looking at old drawings of his dad, of his mom, sister and Brian, then of later drawings, the tourists of New York, landmarks he was sure would make him enough money to stay in the hostel an extra night.
Raindrops fell on the pages, blurring pencil lines and buckling the paper. They were just marks on a page, meaningless in value and personally, no wonder no one wanted to part with their money for them.
He stopped next to an overfilled bin, pulling pencils out of his pocket he threw them on top, and with one last look at a blurred picture of his father, he shoved the sketchbook deep into the garbage.
He wondered through the streets for a while, not wanting to stay in one place for too long. The rain soaked through his jacket until he was painfully numb. There had to be a way he could make this work. It was time he did things on his own and didn’t rely on people. It was unfair to be such a burden to Brian, and if he was honest with himself, he knew that it couldn’t work, not in the long term. He had thought he’d always end up back with his mom, once she’d gotten used to his life style, but that wasn’t an option any longer either.
It wasn’t such a big deal. Hundreds of people did it every day. He could take care of himself, he’d make a new life for himself, let karma attack him at full force for the stress he’d put on every one.
Maybe it was what he’d deserved.
He believed in fate, everything happened for a reason. He frowned inwardly, or maybe it was karma he believed in. What goes around comes around. He’d taken his filthy lifestyle away from his parents and they were finally getting their act together.
He’d refused to give up his filthy lifestyle and now it might be the only thing that would save him.
He stopped walking, looking up at an old building, more windows boarded up than not. He could make out a sign saying Night Stop Café and he peered through the grimy windows, towards a table of young boys leaning into the centre, littered coffee cups and empty crisp packets all around them.
It was a pathetic sight, but it looked safe, and warm. It was a million miles away from his old life and that was how he wanted it now.
He pushed on the door, the bell tinkling weakly above him.
Everyone stopped talking and looked at him, he was rooted to the spot and not even the warmth was enough to keep him there. He stepped closer the door again, intent of getting out of there when one of them stood up, chair scraping back. This was a bad idea. They didn’t look safe at all anymore, they looked-hopeless, sad and dejected, they looked at him like he was little more than a piece of meat.
“No, wait.” His build seemed vaguely familiar, the voice sending shivers down his spine. But Justin didn’t recognise him in the brightly lit diner. His hair fell messily around his face and he was only a little bigger than Justin in size. He had a dimple in one corner of his mouth when he smiled and Justin wondered what the hell he had to smile about.
“Don’t go. You’re the guy from the other night. I’ll get you a coffee, my treat.” Justin stood mutely, not responding at all. This guy was barely older than he was, his skin was smooth, hair natural and body toned, yet Justin could see the harsh realities life had brought him and he couldn’t be mad for his intervention that night.
“Don’t you think there’s enough competition as there is?” Someone said and Justin wasn’t quite sure what he meant, he only knew he felt resigned to this.
“Nah, new faces help keep the regulars regular, man.”
“I’m Cam.” Cam placed a steaming cup of coffee in Justin’s hands, ignoring the conversation going on around them. His eyes were friendly, apologetic and dead. “I’m sorry about the other night-“
Justin shut his eyes, blanked out that night. “Don’t. I don’t want to talk about it. People do what they have to do.”
Cam nodded, a half smile gracing his face, giving his expression a little life. “Ain’t that the truth?”
Cam pushed Justin towards the group of boys, made room for him and sat him down. Justin knew there would be a price for their kindness, but it was a price he’d rather pay than the alternative.