When It's All Over - 1

When It's All Over We Still Have To Clean Up
Chapter One


The only sound in the house was Gretchen's slippers scuffing up and down the lonely hallways. The birthday cake she had made for me sat untouched on the kitchen table only inches from where I sat. There was no one to share it with. There was no joy in the colourful letters that read 'Happy 15th Birthday Bryson!' The exclaimation mark only enhanced the sorrow, not the excitment. Not even the two whom I expected to call did. Everyone had let me down today. Just once I wanted to be wrong, once, for my sake.

"Why on earth are you still here, Byrson, my child?" Gretchen shuffled in, her tanned arms full of clean white linens. What a contrast. The one thing that never changed, the only constant in my life, the control subject, the only one I could honestly count on, was Gretchen.

At one time she was hired as a nanny and as the story goes, I out grew my need for her. I was reading to her. I taught her the difference between acute, obtused and right angled triangles. Before I was even in school I could quote Whitman to her while she folded my bed sheets. I watched her tears ruin the crispness of the linens. I once hoped she would dress my bed with those pillow cases. She was my best friend, my only friend. Gretchen was the only person would refused to let me down.

Gretchen's whole body was generous. When she moved, even if slightly, her breasts bounced and her thighs wiggled. Soon enough the rest of her body would follow the same pattern. She had large, oval eyes that could see through almost any lie I attempted. Through trail and error I realized there was no sense wasting engery on bending the truth with her, but save it for the punishment I would get either way. Although Gretchen admitted money was the only reason she took the job, she explained constantly, I was the reason she stayed.

"Did Kiera call you today?" Gretchen asked, laying the sheets on the table. It had been days since anyone had eaten there making it a safe bet for clean laundry. We didn't want the space to go to waste. There would be many more empty days to follow.

"The phone hasn't made a sound in days. Several days, I believe," I explained, pushing my finger into the blue icing H on my cake. I smudged the letters with my finger it so it read only "15th Birthday, Bryson!" It felt right that way. Half of my mouth smiled.

"I'm going to go to my room and contamplate my existance," I said, storming towards the stairs like a child. I slammed the door, huffed loudly, stomped my feet and grabbed a physics book from the shelf above my bed. There were many shelves around my room, holding stacks of books I'd collected. When I ran out of room they took over my desk, almost completely hiding my computer. They sat on top of my fish tank, under my bed, on my bed. I felt there was never enough to read.

Before I started reading, I scrolled through the very few numbers on my cellphone looking for my sister's. Eventually finding it, I dialed and waited ring after ring until the familiar answering machine picked up.

"Hey, you've reached Kiera. Clearly, I'm too busy. Leave one and if I feel like it, I'll call you back. Maybe, if you're lucky." There was giggling. Sweet giggling. It was a sound I longed to hear in person. It had been over a year, almost two years. Months since we'd talked on the phone. If I took a moment I could have figure it down to the minute. Almost 10 seconds after the beep, which was followed by a long silence, I finally hung up and sighed. The time on my cell phone read 9:18pm. 2 hours and 43 minutes until my birthday was offically over. I was enthusiastic for the day's end. It wasn't what 15th birthdays were supposed to be like. It was void of all the essentials: Friends, family, balloons, music, laughter. Most of all laughter.

The words and numbers on the page were the only thing that made sense to me. My notes were already in the margins, smudged over time by my own fingers, corners bent, and pages worn thin. All this I could figure out, but not for the life of me could I understand how everyone had forgotten my birthday.

The sun was almost completely set. My room was glowing pink. There were no sounds of anything. No birds, no voices, no phones ringing. I kept reading, trying to take everything in as quickly as possible. The end of the chapter came way too fast, so I closed the book and started listing all the states alphabetically, then in reverse. Eventually I started making up my own patterns, trying to slow myself down. A C B D F E... Z A Y B X C... I couldn't trick myself. I'd been through this all many times before. I thought about my parents and Nick, who had forgotten me just like everyone else. I put them into Shakespearian plays as I rehearsed the lines.

Eventually, I turned off my lights and laid in the darkness. The world was absent in the black of night. I wanted it to stay that way. Life was simple, nearly flawless when I couldn't see or hear a single thing. I only had my thoughts of Romeo and Juliet, my thoughts of angels and fractions. It was almost as if I didn't exist. Only my thoughts. It was a shame I couldn't switch off my thoughts as well.

I tries to sleep. Count sheep? My mind couldn't focus on one thing long enough for sheep counting.

Why couldn't they be there on my fifteenth birthday? Kiera, my parents and Nick, they had all abandon me. Another year wasted on people who couldn't even find it within themselves to celebrate my existance. I couldn't find it within me to celebrate either.

I could hear Gretchen closing down the house and leaving for the night. I wondered where she went when I went to bed. Did she have children she abondon for her job? These thoughts made me angry at her. How could she do that to them? She never once talked about them. Did my father not talk about me either? I tried to smother these horrible thoughts. It was fruitless.

I must have fallen asleep. There was light when I woke. How long had I been out? For all I knew it could have been days. If I were lucky, weeks. The light burn my eyes, causing me to keep them squeezed shut and yank a pillow over my head. For all the hours I must have slept, I sure didn't feel rested. Something was wrong, so I poked my head out, looking for a clue to what was going on.

The light wasn't coming from the window at all, but from my hallway. Sillohueted in yellow light stood a small framed figure. Too tall and too lean to by the figure of Gretchen or even my parents. My eyes couldn't focus for more than a second at a time as they fought to adjust. Rolling over, I grabbed my cell phone. 10:38pm. Still my birthday. Sadly, I hadn't slept through it yet.

"Bryson, dude. Are you awake?" It was Nick's voice, full of energy, as always. His feet moved across the carpet. Before I could tell him to leave me alone he jumped on my bed, landing half on me. His bones pushed into my side, causing me to yell out, pushing him off. His scrawny elbow squared me in the back as he attempted to sit back up. The bed bounced and shifted under our movements.

"Leave me alone," I groaned into my pillow, wishing he would shut the door to save my aching retnas. My head throbbed from the combination of light and sound. The blankets were scratching at my stomach. My shirt was twisted tight around my chest, leaving my belly bare. Embarrassed I tried to conceal myself from Nick.

Nick, as all the girls put it, was perfection. Extremely thin, with hip bones even older women seemed to envied. His hair fell perfectly in front of his small hazel eyes. His clothes were tight in all the right places. No, his clothes were just tight in general. When he'd stretch his stomach would show and giggles behind hands would errupt all over the classroom. That's the way it had been from the moment I'd met him. His cell phone had reached his max number of phone numbers before he had ever spoken to me. When asking for my number he told me he would delete Autumn's number from the list. I'd flinched, wishing I had Autumn's number in my cell phone.

"Come on, dude. Come on. Its your birthday. We have to celebrate. Get up!" He was shouting, pulling the covers off me, jumping up and down on the bed.

"It it were such a priority you would have made time earlier to come see me. You could have atleast called. Your chance is over. Goodnight."

"Shut the fuck up and get the hell out of this goddamn bed. You're ruining your fucking fifteenth birthday," Nick told me, pulling my arm. My body weight must have doubled his. I didn't budge. He didn't give up.

"You're too late."

"I've been busting my ass all day trying to get your presents together. My whole day was about you and now you're doing to waste it because you didn't get your way and you're pouty? Get out of bed!" His voice was actually angry. Nick didn't get angry at anyone, but we were best friends. His pulling wasn't what dragged me out of the bed. It was his voice, his tone.

"What did you say you spent all day doing?"

"Getting your present, but I don't know if you deserve it now."

"Please?" I yanked at my shirt, hiding my soft stomach. Males aren't supposed to be this insecure. My father never cared. It was my mother's paranoia. Her fears has rubbed off on me.

"You know what. You take everyone for granted. The only person you care about is you. I don't want to be used anymore!" Nick stepped closer so I could feel his hands brushing against mine. It felt awkward being touched. How long had it been since the last time? Had I ever been touched before? His breath was hot on my face. I was covered in goosebumps.

"Nick...I..."

"Save it. I'm out of here." He turned around and headed toward the door; shoulders straight, head held high. My face fell. My heart felt like it had stopped beating. My breath was near extinct. What had happened? So much so fast that I couldn't even grasp it. My only friend from school was walking out the door because I felt abandoned. It wasn't logical. It didn't make sense.

I followed him into the hallway, not saying a word, scared I would make it worse. It was common knowledge in school that I didn't know how to relate to people. My years of solitude had really taken a toll on me it seemed.

Nick rushed down the stairs. I stood at the top, watching him spiral around and down toward the front door, which was still wide open from when he entered. There was a car idling down the front steps. A black Jaguar. His mother's. We sat in the front seats when she'd first brought it home waiting for the day Nick turned 16. That was four months ago and we had yet to sit in the front seats again.

He slammed the door behind him, causing the pictures on the wall to shutter. The chandlier above my head shook. It sounded like rain on the windows for a moment. I collapsed onto the steps. Nick hadn't ruined my birthday. I had. My head fell into my hands. The tears would have come, if I let them. But I was 15 now. Time to grow up.

"Just kidding, dude!" Nick was back in the foyer holding a duffle bag with a huge smile on his face. At first I couldn't move, still unsure of what was happening. My head needed time to sort out the details.

"I just wanted to see what you would do. You okay?"

"Yeah. Fine."

"You're not fine. It was a joke, Bry. Seriously. A joke."

"I know it was funny."

"Then what's wrong?"

"Nothing. My birthday's almost over," I reminded him.

"I know. We need to get the fuck out of here. Come on, let's get dressed," Nick rushed up the steps passed me, not waiting for me to stand. Again, I trailed behind him wanting to know exactly what he was up to.

"Well, I went shopping for us. I called your Nanny and asked what size you wore," he explained. My face burned, "She's the maid." He had probably spent the whole afternoon laughing while visiting the obese section of Sears for my clothes.

"Dude, look at these. Will you try them on?" The pants Nick was holding up almost made my eyes bludge out of my head. They were right. Really tight and low.

"Nick, those look like girls pants."

"They don't look like girls pants. They are girl pants, dude." He tossed them in my direction and moved in front of the mirror. His sleek body moved so nicely in his tight jeans. I looked at my own buldging thighs. There was no way...

"And I got these sweaters for us. Vest things."

"I can't wear that, Nick. I can't wear these clothes."

"And yet you'll wear khakis and preppy shirts your mother makes you wear?" Nick wasn't angry, just pointing out a fact. I knew this about him. He was always honest.

"As opposed to girls jeans and old man sweaters? I'd rather my own clothes. But thank you," I told him, dropping the pants into the bed and sitting down.

"You're annoying me, Bryson. Why not just try the damn clothes on?"

"Because you're trying to make me into someone I'm not," I protested. Is that the way I felt? No. It was what I thought, but now how I felt.

"You don't know what you are or aren't. You've only known one thing your whole life. Without any choices you'll never know who you really are. I'm giving you options," he tried to convince me.

"And I choose not to wear those ridiculous clothes."

"Fine. Then I choose not to stay here anymore." Again, he was walking out the door, "Call me tomorrow or something, before your parents get home. Maybe we'll hang out."

"Nick," I started, but couldn't force out the words.

"Yeah? What?"

"I'll try them on."

"Okay. I won't watch you."

And so I changed. It was a chore trying to pull the jeans on my thighs, but once they were up I was almost comfortable.

"How do you fit your..." I shifted in the pants, trying to adjust myself in them.

"Your package? Take off your boxers, dude."

"What did you say?" My eyes widened.

"Take them off. Seriously." He really was serious. His eyes looked at the boxers sticking out from my waist and bunching at my thighs. I looked awkward. I could feel it. I moved toward the corner of my room to undress and re-dress, leaving my boxers on the floor. I pulled one of my white collared shirts on, leaving it untucked and the sleeves unbuttoned. I pulled the brown and beige argyle vest over my whole attire and stood in front of the mirror.

It was almost like looking at a fatter, messy haired Nick in the mirror. My thighs and waist didn't look as ballooned as I had imagined they would. Actually, it was quite the opposite. I looked thinner than normal. I could have even passed for decent. Nick came up behind me and brushed all my hair forward before pushing it to the left of my face, leaving one of my brown eyes hidden.

"That adds a bit of a mysterious side to you. Which you don't really need, since even I can't figure you out sometimes, but physically, it suits you," he explained slipping something thin and plastic into my hand. Bring my hand to my chest, I looked at my palm. A government document. I noticed the emblam and flipped it over to see exactly what it was. The face of a shaggy haired Mexican faced me. His eyes looked up at me curiously. If I were Mexican, we could have been related. Same small foreheads, round faces, beady eyes, and soft jaw. The only difference, I looked as if I hadn't seen the sun in years.

"I know he's not white, but you two actually look quite alike. Its scary. You don't know how hard it was stealing this from him. His wife, who's my father's secratary, that damn woman knew I was up to something. Never left me alone in her house for a second. In the end I talked Juan into picking me up beer so that if she asks...Well, no news is never good news. Lesser of two evils, I guess." Nick started laughing. My eyes moved back to the ID.

"I don't want to buy beer or anything like that, Nick."

"I know you don't, but I want to and I want you to. So, we're gonna go and you're going to have fun. Trust me, dude," he said taking my father's visa from my dresser. Without another word we were locking up my front door and starting up the Jaguar. The music started.

"Teen drinking is very bad. I've got a fake ID though." His MP3 player read: Tipsy by J-Kwon. I didn't exactly enjoy the music, but it started my adrenaline. I felt good, alive. Maybe it was the fresh air. My lungs were happy to breathe it.

It was different seeing my drive way at night from inside a car instead of the house. Everything was strange at night, almost eerie. I felt five years old again. Everything was new. I stuck my hand out the window into the warm air and laughed.

"What are you laughing at?" Nick asked, smiling.

"Nothing. But thank you."

He sped up and took the corner so fast I had to hang on to my seat. It was now 11:59. My birthday was almost over. I should have known Nick would salvage the last remnants of the day and turn it into something great.

"When It's All Over - 2"  [18+]

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