RP: Hollow
Date: Sunday, May 1, 2011
Character: Stephen Ross
Location: Dunkin' Donuts
Status: Complete
Summary: Last night, Stephen saw Tyler. He goes to his favorite place to think over what it means to him and the secret he's been carrying for years.
The Dunkin Donuts down the street from the frat house was Stephen’s refuge. In the mornings after riotous parties or games, he would pick his way over the debris strewn living room and walk the twisting mile down overheated pavement to the orange and pink storefront. The grinning lady at the counter would pour him the extra large coffee, no milk and heaping teaspoons of sugar. She knew his order by heart and always handed over a free boston creme donut with a wink as if she also knew that it was his sole indulgence on an otherwise carefully moderated diet. He always gave her a winning smile back though it vanished as soon as he turned around.
There was a corner table that let him put his back to the wall and stare out the window onto the parking lot. He brought nothing with him, just sat and watched cars roll in and out as he sipped his way through the coffee and demolished the donut in neat bites. It was peaceful to sit at the mauve table and think of nothing. Normally.
This morning, he had too much to think about. The night had started out promising with a bar crawl. He was, as usual, the designated driver, preferring to drink alone in his room later, then to get shitfaced and forget himself in front of others.
By the time they’d reached Angel Abbey, his friends were far gone, laughing and tumbling into the bar that one of the girls with them claimed to adore. As soon as they go inside, it was clear that it wasn’t their kind of place. They had only stayed for a round, drawing a lot of attention to their loud party.
It had been long enough.
Long enough for him to see the bartender’s face.
Long enough for him to recognize it, despite the slight changes from his memory.
Long enough for him to watch the familiar eyes sweep quickly over his face without recognition.
He’d slipped outside then and stayed there until his friends came tumbling out, laughing and shoving at each other.
Now, hands wrapped around his styrofoam cup, it seemed distant, dreamlike and highly unlikely. He drank his coffee in careful measured sips, feeling only more sure as he thought it over that it was his brother.
Dim thoughts of reconciliation had run through his head for months...years really. His childhood hero worship of his brother may have been tarnished over the years by their father, but it had never quite been destroyed. A part of him long for that kind approval that Tyler had given to him without reservation. That part wanted instant reconciliation and reunion. The rest though...
Stephen had a secret. A secret he had kept since his brother had left the family home and he fully comprehended how bad being different could be.
Stephen Ross, all American boy, was hollow. Where other people kept their feelings and private hopes, he had a yawning dark pit. He felt almost nothing, cared for precious little and had no particular desire to change.
He wasn’t sure if he had always been that way or if it happened gradually. All he knew was that the things that other people held sacred barely touched him.
He could love. Did love his parents in a deep abiding way that kept him loyal to his father long after it became clear that he shouldn’t be. He loved his brother, who he continued to yearn for through the years despite his careful disposal of all evidence to the contrary.
No one else touched anything deeper than skin. Heartfelt hugs from relatives, tender first kisses and once an angry punch from a classmate, barely registered. They never knew though. He became practiced at looking normal. He could simulate happiness and sadness. He laughed when he was supposed to and could make heartfelt eye contact when appropriate. Stephen Ross, all American chameleon.
Most of the time, he didn’t mind being empty. It make life very easy to drift through.
Tyler though had never been numb. He was the passionate one, vibrant and alive. Would he be disappointed in what his little brother had become? Stephen tried to imagine their meeting and failed. He couldn’t even think of how it would begin. He had learned how to mimic by watching everyone else carefully, but he’d never seen anyone reunite with an exiled family member.
He licked his fingers free of icing. There was only one way to find out. Someday soon, he would have to walk into the bar and order a drink. He would have to look his brother in the eye and tell him who he was.
He finished off his coffee and stood to leave. The smiling woman behind the counter waved at him as he headed back outside.
“Hi, Tyler.” He said quietly to the pavement, practicing as he often did. It helped if he watched his face in the mirror, but it was too late in the day to expect uninterrupted bathroom time. “I’m Stephen. “
Usually he would mime out the whole conversation, but he let it rest there, repeating the words over and over again in different inflections. They all sounded flat to him. Something strange occurred to him just as he reached the house: So what if it sounded flat? He was flat. Maybe, just maybe, Tyler would accept him as he was and that would be one person for whom he could stop pretending. The thought stirred something in the emptiness. Fear maybe. Or excitement.
Character: Stephen Ross
Location: Dunkin' Donuts
Status: Complete
Summary: Last night, Stephen saw Tyler. He goes to his favorite place to think over what it means to him and the secret he's been carrying for years.
The Dunkin Donuts down the street from the frat house was Stephen’s refuge. In the mornings after riotous parties or games, he would pick his way over the debris strewn living room and walk the twisting mile down overheated pavement to the orange and pink storefront. The grinning lady at the counter would pour him the extra large coffee, no milk and heaping teaspoons of sugar. She knew his order by heart and always handed over a free boston creme donut with a wink as if she also knew that it was his sole indulgence on an otherwise carefully moderated diet. He always gave her a winning smile back though it vanished as soon as he turned around.
There was a corner table that let him put his back to the wall and stare out the window onto the parking lot. He brought nothing with him, just sat and watched cars roll in and out as he sipped his way through the coffee and demolished the donut in neat bites. It was peaceful to sit at the mauve table and think of nothing. Normally.
This morning, he had too much to think about. The night had started out promising with a bar crawl. He was, as usual, the designated driver, preferring to drink alone in his room later, then to get shitfaced and forget himself in front of others.
By the time they’d reached Angel Abbey, his friends were far gone, laughing and tumbling into the bar that one of the girls with them claimed to adore. As soon as they go inside, it was clear that it wasn’t their kind of place. They had only stayed for a round, drawing a lot of attention to their loud party.
It had been long enough.
Long enough for him to see the bartender’s face.
Long enough for him to recognize it, despite the slight changes from his memory.
Long enough for him to watch the familiar eyes sweep quickly over his face without recognition.
He’d slipped outside then and stayed there until his friends came tumbling out, laughing and shoving at each other.
Now, hands wrapped around his styrofoam cup, it seemed distant, dreamlike and highly unlikely. He drank his coffee in careful measured sips, feeling only more sure as he thought it over that it was his brother.
Dim thoughts of reconciliation had run through his head for months...years really. His childhood hero worship of his brother may have been tarnished over the years by their father, but it had never quite been destroyed. A part of him long for that kind approval that Tyler had given to him without reservation. That part wanted instant reconciliation and reunion. The rest though...
Stephen had a secret. A secret he had kept since his brother had left the family home and he fully comprehended how bad being different could be.
Stephen Ross, all American boy, was hollow. Where other people kept their feelings and private hopes, he had a yawning dark pit. He felt almost nothing, cared for precious little and had no particular desire to change.
He wasn’t sure if he had always been that way or if it happened gradually. All he knew was that the things that other people held sacred barely touched him.
He could love. Did love his parents in a deep abiding way that kept him loyal to his father long after it became clear that he shouldn’t be. He loved his brother, who he continued to yearn for through the years despite his careful disposal of all evidence to the contrary.
No one else touched anything deeper than skin. Heartfelt hugs from relatives, tender first kisses and once an angry punch from a classmate, barely registered. They never knew though. He became practiced at looking normal. He could simulate happiness and sadness. He laughed when he was supposed to and could make heartfelt eye contact when appropriate. Stephen Ross, all American chameleon.
Most of the time, he didn’t mind being empty. It make life very easy to drift through.
Tyler though had never been numb. He was the passionate one, vibrant and alive. Would he be disappointed in what his little brother had become? Stephen tried to imagine their meeting and failed. He couldn’t even think of how it would begin. He had learned how to mimic by watching everyone else carefully, but he’d never seen anyone reunite with an exiled family member.
He licked his fingers free of icing. There was only one way to find out. Someday soon, he would have to walk into the bar and order a drink. He would have to look his brother in the eye and tell him who he was.
He finished off his coffee and stood to leave. The smiling woman behind the counter waved at him as he headed back outside.
“Hi, Tyler.” He said quietly to the pavement, practicing as he often did. It helped if he watched his face in the mirror, but it was too late in the day to expect uninterrupted bathroom time. “I’m Stephen. “
Usually he would mime out the whole conversation, but he let it rest there, repeating the words over and over again in different inflections. They all sounded flat to him. Something strange occurred to him just as he reached the house: So what if it sounded flat? He was flat. Maybe, just maybe, Tyler would accept him as he was and that would be one person for whom he could stop pretending. The thought stirred something in the emptiness. Fear maybe. Or excitement.