May Sickness: 2

Chapter 2

The family Felix came from was that of the working class. His father worked in the city’s one remaining factory, there were once many factories but harsh economic times caused most to close and out source over seas, while his mother worked as a waitress at a small diner. His parents past were that of mediocrity, even them themselves where the embodiment of mediocrity, they were not particularly smart, but that of average intelligence. They did not have connections with any influential individuals, all they had were their strong backs.

Felix did not have much ambition; he knew how hard it was to succeed. Ambition would lead to big goals, and when those goals were not accomplished, sadness would fill your heart, and he knew that. It was best to dream small and be happy when things went well, as compared to dreaming big and being disappointed every other day.

Cold, heartless, indifferent and so many other words with similar connotations where used to describe him. The only solace in his life was the fact that he knew that a mothers love, as from his father. But he had no one else. Never had he kissed a girl, or even had much interest in them, but by no means gay. The added an unneeded amount of stress, which he already had. Felix never imagined he would find someone he could say he would love. He held no fantasies about him finding the love of his life.

Felix could easily remember that day, that sad day. It was a beautiful day, the sun shined bright, the skies were clear with a soft baby blue, and a refreshing breeze swept through the city. That day would change his life and lead him down a road of plaintive tears, but also one of peace and laughter.

The day started like any other. Felix woke up and dragged himself to the bathroom. Looking in the mirror he saw his reflection staring back at him. Staring at him with those cold dark eyes. He was small for his age, most likely from a life of being under fed.

His pants fell to the floor, as did his boxers and shirt. He stepped into the shower. The water hit his head, ran through his hair, and down his back. Felix turned opposite to the faucet, placing his hand against the wall and rested his head on his upper arm.

Letting out a long deep breath, “Damn, another day.” He watched as the water ran down the wall and to the drain. Felix started to to piss, it was a deep yellow. He did not trust the water that came out of his faucets. Living in the lower class parts of the city, most did not drink tap water. It might be the twenty-first century but water in the slums still could not be trusted.

Grabbing a towel, just beyond the shower curtain, Felix wrapped it around his waist, and walked to his room. The room was drab, with just a bed against the wall and a dresser next to the bed.

Felix sat on his bed and started digging through his dresser. He pulled out some underwear, a pair of jeans and a shirt. The jeans were typical off brand, the shirt was plain white, and the underwear, well, they were underwear.

He walked to the kitchen; there was nothing to eat, as always. His mother and father were already at work and school would, then, be starting soon.

It was quite a walk from Felix’s house to his school, but it was one he had made countless times. The length of the walk did, however require him to leave quite early. And even then, every morning when he woke up his parents had already left for work.

The school Felix attended did not segregate, but assimilate the kids from the various walks of life into one category, and that was student. Within all the city there were many injustices but the youth were blessed with being able to learn and live a few years before having to face the terrors that the world was to bring.

“Now everyone take your seats.” Felix’s math teacher commanded the class. He was a scraggly looking man, Mr. Snow was his name. Not particularly funny but that fact did nothing to stop him from making terrible jokes. All these aspects added to Felix hatred towards him. “Now that everyone is seated lets begin.”

His first class was mathematics, Felix was far from star student, but the class was easy for him. The school day went on as it usually did. He paid little attention in the classes he did not care for and made small talk at lunch.

At a glance one would say that Felix was well liked and had many friends, but those he talked to were not his friends, he did not like them. They were just tools, objects, to pass the time between classes. He was quite pessimistic and closed from the world. It was how he liked it.

After school he had errands to run; go to the post office, go to the grocery store and finally, go home. Indeed he saw returning home as an errand. He loved his parents dearly, they were all he had but  living in a sty would make anyone second guess going home.

On the way to the post office Felix walked past a homeless man setting on a bench.

“Young man, could you spare some change?” The homeless man asked in a feeble, hushed voice. His clothes looked like rags, much like those Felix would be wearing sometime later in his life; he did not have shoes, or even teeth. He was dirty and had a heavy scent of liquor on him. A pathetic excuse for a human.

With the bums mere uttering of those words it felt like everyone on the whole strip of side walk had their gaze shifted towards Felix. Like they all expected that poor boy to show some form of benevolence, something none themselves would have. 

“I’m sorry, I just don’t have any extra money right now, not even change, I’m sorry.” Felix truly was sorry, but the miniscule amount of money he had was to buy groceries. If he had any extra money, that man would have been a few cents richer. As Felix was walking away from the man…

“Ah… go screw yourself you greedy little prick!” The man’s whispered voice roared. Felix heard his vulgar outburst, but he did not take any action. What had the man really done? Nothing. All he did was call Felix a name, no big deal. And that’s what Felix thought. All he could do was clenched his fist and passively walk away. He was not one to cause a commotion or even raise his voice.

After a few blocks Felix was in front of the post office. It was a large red brick building, with the only window being one in the large entrance door. It was quite bland to say the least.

He pushed open the large door and walked in. Inside was marble floors that shined bright and a high ceiling.

“Hello.” A short, fat postal worker greeted him from behind a long counter and the back end of the great hall.

“Hello.” Felix politely replied. He walked over to a wall with thousands of built-in postal boxes, and looked for his family’s box, 831. His footsteps echoed from the hard floor and off the great walls of postal boxes. A ring of keys jangled as he pulled them from his pocket. His index finger and thumb gripped a key with the number 831 engraved on it, and he opened the box.

The box was empty, devoid of any envelopes, any post cards, any paper what so ever. He could consider himself lucky, at least there were not any bills. Felix walked back across the marble floors and to the exit. He took a break breath and paused before opening the doors.

From the post office Felix walked to a small grocery store. The store was named after its owner, in quite a generic manner. It was just a few blocks from his house, therefore, Felix was a frequent customer, but he had not developed any form of a relation with any of the store’s two employees, as in most aspects of his life..

Felix placed his items on the checkout counter. The cashier and Felix made eye contact, but no real words were spoken, other than the price of the total for the purchase. A bag boy placed the items in a paper bag. First a bag of sugar, then a carton of eggs and finally a loaf of bread.

As Felix handed the cashier the amount due, he saw something out the store front window. Nothing major, just a police squad car driving by. The lights were flashing and the sound of the sirens howled. Oh well. He thought and proceeded on his walk home. The houses along either side of the street where dilapidated and in disrepair. To say the grass is greener in this case would take one to a whole other block. 

Felix was half a block from his house when he saw that a police car was parked along the side walk in front of his house. An officer was talking to his mother, Felix could not hear what the officer was saying, but he then saw his mother break down crying. Shit, what could have happened?

By the time Felix had reached the front door, the police officer had driven off and his mother was in the house. Who knew how long the officer was there, but one thing was for sure and that was that he was not there for that long. Maybe ten minutes.

Felix walked inside.

His mother sat in the dining room. She had stopped smoking years before, but she had, then, a cigarette between her index and middle finger. She took a drag and held it in for a few seconds and exhaled.

“Mom… what happened? Why was the…” He cut himself short. Tears were running from his mothers eyes. No it couldn’t be, it can’t! She sucked on the cigarette again and exhaled. She repeated this again and again for God know how long.

In times of tragedy such ill habits arise, ones that slowly kill. Maybe she loved her husband enough to want to die but loved her son more and bare the thought of leaving him alone. 

His mother did not acknowledge him or his words, she merely stared at the empty chair across from her. The chair his father would occasionally sit in the rare instance that all three of them would be home at the same time.

In his piss poor room he sat, looking at the stained carpet, trying to hold back the tears. Felix was not one to cry, in his resent memory he could not remember a time in which he cried. But there he was, his father was loss. The man that had sat him down and taught him how to read, one of the two people in his life that he loved.

In a state of depression, his newly widowed mother drank away her problems. If the answer was not at the bottom of a bottle, then maybe it was in the bottom of the next and if not then the next. The death of her husband might have been the perfect excuse, she no longer went to work, she no longer ate, she no longer slept. She became a drunkard, just like that homeless man. Who knew someone could be so drunk for so long?

It had rained the night before, the yard was a large pool of mud.

Such stories or moments of tragedy occur in dreary settings and such are created when the weather is most foul. Life works in such ironies, building an atmosphere of dread for humans to sense the impending doom.

Over a month had passed since Felix’s father’s death, his mother was then just an obstacle to walk around in the morning. Always drunk. Always passed out in the middle of the family room. After it had happened the word spread across the school and people began giving Felix their condolences and the like. Felix paid no mind to the other students words. They were nothing, just like him they would not amount to anything, another even playing ground. But one conversation stood out, showing prominence over the copious and inconsequential others.

It was during lunch that one of his class mates, a girl named Molly, asked, “Hey Felix, you okay?” She was a stout ginger with long red, on that day she wore pair of pink sweat pants and an ugly striped hooded sweat shirt.

Felix answered honestly, “Yeah, I’m okay, it’s just going to take some time.” Some time indeed. He was taking time for himself

“Well, has there been an investigation, or anything? Will they catch the guys that did it? They just have to!” This question, so sincere, so sweet, unlike the others her words were meaningful. She was being honest, not just trying to make small talk. That girl actually cared for his father’s justice.

That question, with so much meaning, forced him to answer and think about the worth of his father’s life. His father had been murdered in a crowded street in the middle of the day. And yet not a single individual had came forward.

“No there hasn’t been any investigation, no one is giving a description, so to the police it’s an open and shut case.” In the eyes of the world, in the eyes of justice, his father’s life was worthless. The conversation ended with the ringing of the next hour’s bell. It was confusing, he had never spoken to Molly before and quite honestly he could not remember who she was. Who was this girl? He could recall the names of every person in each of his classes. Could she have been so homely to be neglected from his memory? Or was she just a silent observer from afar? Oh well.

That night it rained. It was a down pour, the night sky starless with thunder and lightning. A dreary sight, indeed.

Felix awoke to the sound of horns from the traffic in front of his house. It was four AM, three hours before he had to leave for school. Felix lay in his bed, looking at the ceiling, debating whether he should go to school or not. Much was how most of his mornings began and more often than not he stayed in his bed. For an hour he was in that state. If closing his eyes and sleeping forever was an option, he would have taken it. Death would have been a viable option, a perfect alternative to how his life was. It was not so much that his father had been taken from him but that combined with the fact that his mother had in a way left him, that made him dread life.

Rolling out of bed he staggered into the bathroom, deciding to just wash his face rather than take a full shower. Much like that of his mother Felix’s hygienic state had deteriorated. It did not matter how clean a person can make themselves, in the end the die either way, in the case of his father he died coated in his own blood.

Felix left two hours early, spending much of his morning walking around the city. The streets were empty, for the most part, and all the shops had yet to be open. When the time came to head to school, Felix took his time not caring whether he would be late or not. The teachers paid no mind to him at this point. He never spoke and all he did was lay his head down during class.

The day went by as they all did and he started his walk home. There were not any errands to run, no shopping to do, but just go home and sleep. Felix spent most of the time sleeping, but he did not do it out of grief, no, it was because with his mother drunk there was not anyone to talk to. Plus in his dreams he would do anything, be anything... in his sleep he allowed himself to feel enjoyment. It was best to get home, sleep, wake up, go to school and repeat.

With one selfish action Felix was thrown into the world to fend for himself. The love his mother had for him... it’s worth...

When he opened the door the usual aroma of musk and alcohol enveloped his sense of smell, but there was something else, a new smell. The smell of rust and festering flesh. Looking back Felix had known what was to be expected when he opened the door...

The lights were off, the shades were closed and with the storm clouds dimming the sun’s rays, the house was pitch black. Maybe a few silhouettes from the furniture but it made no difference.

Felix’s shoes were covered in mud, he took them off and left them at the front door. His mother would get mad if he were to track mud across the house.

The light switch was not on the wall next to the door, as one would enter, but on the wall opposite to the front door, about twelve feet away on the facing wall. Another staple of subsidised housing, poor floor layout.

“Hello? Hey mom you here?” Felix asked, his words entering the darkness, but with no answer. Like a bear trap his words entered but try as they might they would never return.

Felix walked into the dark, toward where the light switch was...

He moved slowly through the darkness, pushing aside beer bottles and cans with his feet. Squash! He had stepped in something, something wet. It seeped through his socks and wetted his feet. He could feel the liquid, for what ever it was, go between his feet. Beer? A half empty can must have fell over. Damn it, now I’ll need clean socks. It only.

Reaching out toward the wall, he felt for the light switch. His fingers ran along the wall and through something. It was wet, gel like, and it fell to the floor as he moved over it with his fingers. He picked up a small piece of what ever it was and felt its texture, by rolling it between his fingers. As his hands ran across the walls surface his hands became wetted.

His fingers found the switch and the lights flickered on. There are some cases in which darkness without the slightest bit of light is much better than an sanctuary of light. It was hell that awaited him.

There on the floor lay his mother, in her hand a forty-five calibre revolver. What the hell? Where did she get a gun? It was possibly from shock that made him have such a retarded statement. The back of her skull was gone and in its place a fist size hole. What looked like small pieces of grey sponge fell from the hole into a pool of blood below. Like little icebergs, the bits of brain floated in the ocean of blood. Jagged pieces of skull accompanied the icebergs and, like ships, sunk into the sea, while smaller pieces floated.

Felix looked down and saw a pair of bloody foot prints. God, I stepped in it! In his trek across the room he had been only inches from stepping on his mother’s body.

On the wall a foot or so away from the light switch was a pattern resembling a sun, with a faintly visible hole in its centre. A circular pattern of red, with random streaks that ran in every direction. Pieces of skull protruded from the dry wall, lumpy masses slid down the wall and streams of blood ran down to the carpet. But, I didn’t hear anything, no gunshot. Wait... He looked down at his hand, they were red, covered with his mother’s blood. Felix looked in horror, his face contorted... I’m alone.

Gunshots were not uncommon in his neighbourhood, but they never went unnoticed. He did hear the gunshot, but because he thought it was a stranger, he had blocked it from his mind. A neighbour heard the gun shot and had called the police.

Blue and red lights illuminated the curtains. A police officer walked into the small house. Slowly, staying for the longest time in the threshold of the doorway, in shock. Even for a trained police officer the corpse of a woman should be no easy sight, and in that case the ghastly seen was almost to much for the officer.

The officer was thin and looked weak, nothing like an officer should. His hair slicked back, large sunglasses covered most of his face, and his uniform, clean and neatly pressed. He looked more like the stereotypical policeman that one would see in porn.

The officer saw the woman’s body, with a gun in her hand, and he saw Felix. Felix was looking straight ahead, not moving, not blinking and, it appeared, not breathing. It was too much of a shock for poor Felix, he was alone.

The officer looked into Felix’s eyes, once just cold, now dead, the officer was afraid. Why is there a corpse standing there, how is that possible?! A preposterous thought, but it was true. At that moment Felix was did.

“Hey kid, you okay?” The officer asked, looking at Felix.

No answer, just an empty stare. Dead eyes, paling skin. Maybe he was dead.

“Kid, you okay?” Again he asked, becoming more concerned with the state Felix was in.

The officer’s stare turned back to Felix’s mother’s body. He pressed the button on a CB, that was attached to his jacked. “Yeah Dispatch, I’ve arrived at the residence of the reported gun shot. It’s not good, we have a self inflicted gun shot wound to the head, she’s dead.” He turned back to Felix.

That day the coroner carried away his mother’s body. Felix did not go to the morgue to see her one last time. What was the point of seeing her off, earlier he was in the same position with his father. Just one more body for the incinerator. They were not rich, she would not be buried. They had no other family, even if there was someone, no one would come to her funeral, if there was one. That day the last bit of himself died, he walked away from everything, what was there to go back to? Nothing.

Felix was in a state of non-existence, what he saw, what he felt, what he heard, none of it seemed real. A zombie was what he was, but he was not in search of food, he was not searching for anything. His life was meaningless. No home, no tangible possessions, no emotional attachments, Felix wished he could just disappear.

Felix’s school became curious about his absence, but soon everyone knew about what had happened, but no one knew where he was. In such a large city finding one person was quite literally one in a million, or more precisely, one in about five million. Kids at his school missed him, while some started rumours about him and where he was. It was for that reason that Felix truly hated them.

“Hey did you hear about Felix?” One girl ask to another.

“No, what happened?” The other girl replied

“I hear that after his mother died he jumped in front of a subway train.” The first girl answered not truly knowing what had happened only wanting to better her position in the gossip circle. 

“He drowned himself in the ocean.” Another interjected.

There were numerous rumours, the ones that started them had no real interest in Felix’s well being, they just used the rumours as a way to gain some attention. There was, however, one person that did care. The one that had once spoke to Felix after his father’s death, Molly. What started as a brief interest had turned into full infatuation. She wanted to be with him, and hoped to one day see him again. However, that would never happen, she did not know, but soon his heart would be given to someone else.

One evening Felix sat on the banks of one of the city’s canals. He was staring at the flow of the water. Watching the water helped him find peace, obtain some acceptance and, more importantly, it helped him sleep.

Days before, he sat on the docks at a pier, his feet resting in the water. He had sat there watching the waves hit the shore, watching the ships go by. It had been days since he had slept, but some how, the next morning he awoke. Felix had fallen asleep and the horn of a passing ship had awaken him.

Felix sat there watching and listening. Late that night he fell a sleep by the melody of of ships, the few remaining seagulls that had yet felt for the night. The moon shined bright, it was a beautiful night. The tide was high and his close became damp by the mist from the ocean waves.

“Woe! Box, look, do you think he’s dead?” Came a girl’s voice. Felix felt a sharp pain in his side. He slowly opened his eyes. A girl’s face slowly came into focus. “Good he’s not dead.” The girl said, holding a stick. A dog licked his face, “Ain’t that sweet, Box likes you.”

“What the hell are you doing?!” Felix asked as he started to sit up. Becoming aggravated by the girls actions and from being woke up from one of the few times he had fallen asleep.

Poke! She jabbed him with the stick again. “I’m pokin’ you with a stick. Duh!” She smiled.

“Well stop! It hurts, and what the hell is this “Box” thing?” He looked for anything that might be considered a Box. Though maybe it was only to insight a conversation, even still tired he still had wits enough to him to be able to use common sense. He knew the dog was what the girl was referring to.

“Box is this adorable puppy.” She knelt down and started to scratch behind the dog’s ears. Box, however, was not a puppy, standing three feet off the ground, he was the largest Golden Retriever Felix had ever seen. The girl then added, “No! I won’t stop!” She poked him again, that time not as hard and in a more frolicsome manner. “So why are you laying out here like this,” then with a big ear-to-ear smile she said, “aren’t you afraid of grass stains?” She tried to ease his ill temper with a joke.

No answer.

“So kid, what’s you name? Why you out here all alone?” She stood, looking down at Felix with her hands on her hips. Trying to create an assertive and commanding presence. Though with a nature essence of joy she did quite a terrible job at it.

“Felix. Is there someone I’m supposed to be with out here?” He waited, then added, “What do you mean by kid? You can’t be that much older than me.” Felix was sixteen years old, his height was average, about five-six. The girl, Rose, however, was older than him, by one year, and several inches taller than him. She was easily over six feet tall.

“Well I’m old enough to know you’re a kid for laying around and getting poked by sticks, without even fighting it, unless you like that kind of stuff.” Again smiling. She bent over and started petting Box again, adding, “My name is Rose.”

Rose was also homeless, but she never told Felix why, and he would never ask. If she wanted him to know she would have told him, that’s what Felix thought. She respected him in the same manner. It was a mutual, unspoken agreement.

At first Felix and Rose just “hung out”, then they started to be with the other for the most part of the day and soon they were always together. With Rose, Felix started to live, possibly for the first time, not just surviving, but living. With her he did not feel alone, with her he forgot about his past. Felix no longer thought about where he had been, only about where he was going and that it would be with Rose.

“Felix, how do you feel about me? Do you love me?” Rose asked one day. At the docks they sat on a bench, while Box lay underneath. It had been six months since they had met, and he did love her, and she loved him. They had a care free life with each other, that was all they needed.

“Well, we’re just kids,” Felix looked at Rose, a frown was replacing her smile, “but that means nothing to me. I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to be by your side forever. Love is a strong word but still it’s not strong enough to describe my feelings for you, no word is. I…” He was interrupted in a way that showed him that she loved him just as much as he loved her. They kissed on that bench for what seemed like forever, it was not a terrible forever like how time drags on when one dislikes a situation but more like the happy instances when life is good and one indulges in the moment. But it did not last forever. Ships passed, waved crashed on the shore and the sun set.