Session Nine

Post from March 31^st:

            I took Mr. H’s advice, but in a different way.  I actually did what I wanted to do this Spring Break.  This really caught Adam off-guard.  He’s used to me just going along with his stupid ideas and I actually told him no.  It was kind of fun to see the look on his face and he just said, “Okay.”  Sweet.

            I think I let this newfound power go a little to my head though.  I got into an argument with my mom yesterday.

            She was having Jay and Christa over for Easter dinner.  That wasn’t going to be until about 5pm, so I was still planning on going to visit Mr. H.  My mom refused to let me go because schoolwork was not for holidays and I was needed at the house to peel eggs.  When I told her I wanted to go, she laughed.

            She actually had the fucking nerve to laugh at me.

            “No you don’t, Ethan, don’t be silly.  You’re not going and this discussion is over.”

            I realize now I should not have exploded like that.  I just got so angry that I couldn’t take it anymore.  I thought of all the crap I’ve had to put up with from her and snapped.

            “You ALWAYS think everything I do is stupid, that I can’t think for myself!  My opinions don’t matter and you only care how your kids make YOU look!  I don’t need you to treat me like a baby all the time!  I’m going to see Mr. H. because it’s MY decision.  I’ll be back before dinner.” And I left.

            I rode my bike so fast smoke was almost coming off of the gears.  With all that built-up energy I got to Shady Pines quicker than I ever did in the car.  I walked down the hallway and saw Christa standing there, biting her nails.  Did Mom call her? 

            Christa saw me and said that she tried calling my phone.  “Mr. H. isn’t feeling well,” she said.  “You should go home and I’ll meet you there.”

            She looked really sketchy.  I asked her what was wrong.  She sighed.

            “It’s Easter,” she said.  “All the residents’ families are here for brunch, except for Mr. H.”  I asked where they were and she shook her head.  “I don’t know.  He’s been here three years and they’ve never visited, ever.  Most times he’s okay. He just stares out of the window at the parking lot, like he’s waiting for them to come, but they never do.  It’s terrible.”

            Wow.  I couldn’t imagine.  I asked Christa why I couldn’t go see him and she looked hesitant.

            “He doesn’t want to have anything to do with anyone.  He won’t even touch his iPad.  You can go in, but don’t expect much.”

            I nodded and Christa opened the door.  Mr. H’s hands were at his side, face turned completely towards the sunny window.  Christa gave me a pat on the shoulder and closed the door.  I cleared my throat.

            “Happy Easter, Mr. H,” I said.  He didn’t look up.  I stood there awkwardly for a moment before sitting down.  “I know we haven’t read in a while, but we can pick up where we left off.”  I opened my old Harry Potter book and my phone beeped.

            I looked up and Mr. H. was staring at me again.  I didn’t realize that my hair was stuck to my forehead and my shirt was drenched.  I really peddled hard.

            “I rode my bike here,” I answered.  His eyebrows raised in surprise.  “My mom and I kind of had a fight.”  He waited for me to go on, so I did.  At the end of my rant I said, “I’m just sick of her always acting like I don’t matter.  I finally took a stand, and I’m proud of that.  I mean, that’s a good thing, right?”

            Mr. H. hesitated before nodding slowly.  He typed on his iPad.

            I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

            BEEP!

            I sat there staring at the text, thinking.  I knew he was right.  Mr. H. was staring out the window again.  I debated with myself for a minute and decided to do it anyway.  “Mr. H?” I asked hesitantly.  “What happened to your family?”  He stared at his lap for a long while. I added, “Please.”  He finally began to text like he’s never done before.  Words poured out of his fingertips at lightning speed and I struggled to keep up with reading them.

            BEEP!

            BEEP!

            BEEP!

            BEEP!

            BEEP!

            BEEP!

            BEEP!

            It was a long time before I could look at Mr. H.  My chest felt heavy.  When I finally looked up, he was staring out the window again, but this time his eyes were wet.  I sat there for a while until the hour was up.  I didn’t know what to say.  There wasn’t anything I could say.  So I just patted his arm and left.

            Christa drove me home.  I didn’t tell her about what Mr. H. said, and she didn’t ask.  When we got back to the house, my mom mumbled an apology and I let it go.  I sat down and peeled the eggs.

            This morning I went to Mrs. Felton’s class.  She said that since no one but me had more than two volunteer hours that we aren’t required to do any more.  The project is over.