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Chapter 2 – Explanations
Freedom. Such a common word yet savoured every time it occurs. Such a lovely Sunday for a walk, no wonder I was in the forest this morning. If I could do it again I would, and this time I'd bring a camera. I stifle a yawn as I glance at my gas gauge, almost full. 5 minutes until I reach home, I can't stand the loneliness I need some entertainment. As I reach for the radio knob I see a squirrel crossing the street, Ah what's the point in slowing down if you can kill em' dang buggers. They're annoying anyways. I turned the radio to 99.9 virgin radio, just in time to hear a house mix of pit bull's "Don't Stop The Party". Pretty decent if you ask me, I hear faint squeak and my car runs over a little bump. How comical, it must've been that pesky squirrel. I love this. Just sitting in my car, alone, listening to modern music and losing myself in it as I bob my head along to the tune – Call me crazy, but this is my peace.
As I pull up to the driveway I see my mother sitting on the front porch and gripping a cup of tea, along with my brother perched beside her and his hand on her shoulder.
"Where have you been, Peter? You must've got some pretty fancy milk for old Pam, now lemme see it!" my mother shouts as I climb the stairs. What a nice greeting, now what shall I say? The milk is invisible??
"Yeah, and where's the bread and eggs Peter? I wanted to make myself a nice brunch!" Jerry complained.
"Now mum... and brother." I began awkwardly. "Don't fret but I had a bit of an accident, when I went hiking in the woods of course. I had just come back from the hospital and I have some stitches in the back of my head, and well some internal bleeding in my cheek. Tomorrow it'll show a big nice bruise for you all to see." I sighed and looked at them intently. Would they laugh and say I'm making an excuse?
"Oh Chicken! That's terrible!" my mother flailed her arms up in the air and walked over to me. She hugged me tightly and kissed my ears.
"Now let me see the back of your head, did they shave all the hair in the back? Did you feel the scalpel cutting your head open, or did they knock you out?" My mother was so full of questions. It's like she forgot of anything else.
"Now mum, I just.. What about you just check it out." I looked at my brother sitting on the porch swing staring at me oddly; he twiddled his fingers and raised an eyebrow at me. As if to say "you, of all people.. Getting hurt in the forest?" It is odd for me to get hurt anyways, it's not like I ever get injured.
"Aw common Jerry, you can see it too" I watched as he lunged from the chair and went to check out my head, tracing the fresh stitches. I heard the classic "ouch's" and "ahh!" and "Ewe, they missed a spot, look at it now!" My brother was practically mesmerized by my stitch.
"Now which cheek has the internal bleeding?" my mother boomed. She was never one to forget, but once she was hooked on something, she wouldn't let it go and she'd shut everything else out. Just like when Jerry was born, he started to eat baby food and mashed vegetables 2 months early, so of course my mother would treat him like some miracle child and only play with him until eventually the phase was over. But hey, it's 2013 now and I'm a 23 year old grown boy, while my brother is a 19 year old who is strongly interested in something like a stitched up head injury.
"The left cheek, mum. Really, I'm fine I took a painkiller before I left the hospital so it should wear off before I go to bed, then I can take an Advil and we'll see what happens in the morning. My mother began to turn my head in between her hands, examining my face.
"Leave it alone, for Gods sake!" retorts Jerry, opening the screen door with his right foot already in the house.
"Jerry Dean Collins!" Pam sheers "This is my first born son! I think I deserve to have some concern on his injuries, do you know how I – "
Jerry snorts and shuts the screen door behind him, and drowns out her voice with Much Music set to the highest volume setting on the T.V - classic.
"Okay then, I guess I should get going and give your brother the talk of respect. You'd think a boy of his age would know better" she sighs and follows Jerry into the house.
I glance at my watch 11:52 AM, I leap to the stairs and open the car door, my mind racing on what I'll do at work. For a moment my breathing becomes so low it almost stops. Then it all stops. Of course! It's Saturday, and there's nothing to do. My phone glitters in the seat next to me as I read a text that was sent by Jerry: "MOM IS GIVING ME THE TALK, COME IN LE CHATEAU AND TALK 2 HER ABOUT YOUR CHEEK. I DON'T NEED TO HEAR DIS RIGHT NOW!" I sigh at the text talk and send a devilish face back to him. Then I remember. Chelsea.
Dialling as fast as I can I hit the numbers with skill and accuracy: 555-417-6249.
"Hello, Chelsea here. If consulting for business inquiries please call this number: 555-427-8164. If you're a contact, please wait a moment and you will be forwarded to my cell phone." The phone emitted a beep.
"It's Chelsea! Who's this?" I thought she'd recognize my number right away by now.
"Hey. Chelsea! It's Peter Collins, you're boyfriend." I add in for good measure. She has a ton of connections; for all I know there might be another Peter that SHE knows.
"Peter, what's wrong? You never call me at this time of day." I feel worried. Does she not want to see me? I don't think so – she's my fun, loving Chelsea!
"Nothing, bunny. But, can you set up a break time or something? I think I need to talk to you about something that happened earlier this morning." The boy pops into my mind again, and then the seductive look of the male nurse, and the horror of the blood on the boy's neck. I shudder and try to erase Liam from my mind. Chelsea seems like she doesn't want to be spoken to. Is she with a client? Maybe I should hang up and call in 5 minutes.
"Sweety it's highly unlikely for me to get a break, I mean everybody wants to get a makeover by Chelsea, and I thought you hated talking about your feelings anyways?" her tone seemed to become less concerned, almost like she was fading away. Her voice cracks in the static of the phone. I have to get a new phone provider. Rogers is bringing me nowhere.
"Chelsea, I just think this needs to be spoken about. If you don't think you can make time I can come over now." Was she not hearing me? This is the first time I'm going to speak out to anyone, is she going to throw me away? Girls sometimes, they always want to be loved and cared for, but will they ever return the favour?
"Actually Peter, now is probably the best time. BUT Make sure to put on some cologne or deodorant or whatever you men wear. The place needs to smell good for the customers."
"On my way, bunnykins!" I raise my arm and take a deep whiff of my armpit. Do I smell? I think not. But for Chelsea: ANYTHING! I quickly run into the house and drop my socks, shirt and pants in the hamper. Running around the house half naked, a sight anyone would kill to see. I step into the shower and turn it on a light mist. Just removing the sweat and acidic scent of the hospital.
As I make my way out of the shower, I can't help but look at a coconut and honey suckle exfoliating scrub that my mother has set out. I pick it up and read the instructions: "Apply generous amount of exfoliating scrub to fingertips, rub onto the face in circular motion for maximum results, and rinse. Keep product away from eye area." Of course, I try stuff and my cheek gets irritated but hey, my skin never felt so smooth.
I dry off and pick out my clothing from my room: Light blue boxers, undershirt, red t-shirt, black sweatpants, black hoodie, ankle socks and red converse. I flip my hair and watch the water droplets fall onto the mirror, they look so perfect yet so.. Messy. I pick up my towel and wipe them off.
I get my bag and put it on. I just can't stop thinking about that boy, who was he? Why is he sticking to me? If anything, the poor kid should be bugging the guy that killed him. Not some innocent guy that just happened to be walking in the woods.
I stopped at the red light and slammed my palms on the steering wheel. Seriously? This is the 4th one so far. I swear, I could have jogged there and back by now. These stoplights are merciless. 30 seconds before the lights are going to switch a kid walks out in front of me and starts to wash my windshield. Dang Squeegee-Kids. "Pay up!" his raspy voice boomed through the window. I hastily pulled out 5 dollars from my wallet and shoved it through the little slit. Green light – Finally! I stepped on the gas and drove over to Chelsea shop as fast as the law would let me.
"There you are!" she squealed as I stepped out of the car, frustrated, rolling the keys on my fingertips. I exhaled and kissed her forehead as I put my arm on her back.
"Chelsea-Bunny" I sighed, how hard can this be? I just have to.. Say it like I think it, but calmer. "Hey there, how's business?" I steer the conversation over to her.
Girls. They can be so self-centered sometimes. You give them a topic they really like and they can't shut up. It's like Entertainment Tonight on repeat.
"Hello to you too, Peter." Oh god, did I say something wrong?
"Business is good, as always. I've gotten plenty of customers for the 2 and a half hours that I've been open." She looks unsatisfied.
"So what is it that you have to tell me oh-so badly?" She stifled a laugh and began tracing lazy figure eights on the back of my neck. Then her fingers ran over the stitches and her arm dropped completely.
"What the heck is this? Oh Peter, did you get into a fight? Common, let's go in the back room and you can tell me what happened." I can't believe it! She's suddenly interested, and pulling me by the arm into the building. I winced in the bright lights and stood there looking dumb until my eyes adjusted to the lighting. I hung my sweater on the coat rack and followed her into the light blue room, wondering what was next to come..
Freedom. Such a common word yet savoured every time it occurs. Such a lovely Sunday for a walk, no wonder I was in the forest this morning. If I could do it again I would, and this time I'd bring a camera. I stifle a yawn as I glance at my gas gauge, almost full. 5 minutes until I reach home, I can't stand the loneliness I need some entertainment. As I reach for the radio knob I see a squirrel crossing the street, Ah what's the point in slowing down if you can kill em' dang buggers. They're annoying anyways. I turned the radio to 99.9 virgin radio, just in time to hear a house mix of pit bull's "Don't Stop The Party". Pretty decent if you ask me, I hear faint squeak and my car runs over a little bump. How comical, it must've been that pesky squirrel. I love this. Just sitting in my car, alone, listening to modern music and losing myself in it as I bob my head along to the tune – Call me crazy, but this is my peace.
As I pull up to the driveway I see my mother sitting on the front porch and gripping a cup of tea, along with my brother perched beside her and his hand on her shoulder.
"Where have you been, Peter? You must've got some pretty fancy milk for old Pam, now lemme see it!" my mother shouts as I climb the stairs. What a nice greeting, now what shall I say? The milk is invisible??
"Yeah, and where's the bread and eggs Peter? I wanted to make myself a nice brunch!" Jerry complained.
"Now mum... and brother." I began awkwardly. "Don't fret but I had a bit of an accident, when I went hiking in the woods of course. I had just come back from the hospital and I have some stitches in the back of my head, and well some internal bleeding in my cheek. Tomorrow it'll show a big nice bruise for you all to see." I sighed and looked at them intently. Would they laugh and say I'm making an excuse?
"Oh Chicken! That's terrible!" my mother flailed her arms up in the air and walked over to me. She hugged me tightly and kissed my ears.
"Now let me see the back of your head, did they shave all the hair in the back? Did you feel the scalpel cutting your head open, or did they knock you out?" My mother was so full of questions. It's like she forgot of anything else.
"Now mum, I just.. What about you just check it out." I looked at my brother sitting on the porch swing staring at me oddly; he twiddled his fingers and raised an eyebrow at me. As if to say "you, of all people.. Getting hurt in the forest?" It is odd for me to get hurt anyways, it's not like I ever get injured.
"Aw common Jerry, you can see it too" I watched as he lunged from the chair and went to check out my head, tracing the fresh stitches. I heard the classic "ouch's" and "ahh!" and "Ewe, they missed a spot, look at it now!" My brother was practically mesmerized by my stitch.
"Now which cheek has the internal bleeding?" my mother boomed. She was never one to forget, but once she was hooked on something, she wouldn't let it go and she'd shut everything else out. Just like when Jerry was born, he started to eat baby food and mashed vegetables 2 months early, so of course my mother would treat him like some miracle child and only play with him until eventually the phase was over. But hey, it's 2013 now and I'm a 23 year old grown boy, while my brother is a 19 year old who is strongly interested in something like a stitched up head injury.
"The left cheek, mum. Really, I'm fine I took a painkiller before I left the hospital so it should wear off before I go to bed, then I can take an Advil and we'll see what happens in the morning. My mother began to turn my head in between her hands, examining my face.
"Leave it alone, for Gods sake!" retorts Jerry, opening the screen door with his right foot already in the house.
"Jerry Dean Collins!" Pam sheers "This is my first born son! I think I deserve to have some concern on his injuries, do you know how I – "
Jerry snorts and shuts the screen door behind him, and drowns out her voice with Much Music set to the highest volume setting on the T.V - classic.
"Okay then, I guess I should get going and give your brother the talk of respect. You'd think a boy of his age would know better" she sighs and follows Jerry into the house.
I glance at my watch 11:52 AM, I leap to the stairs and open the car door, my mind racing on what I'll do at work. For a moment my breathing becomes so low it almost stops. Then it all stops. Of course! It's Saturday, and there's nothing to do. My phone glitters in the seat next to me as I read a text that was sent by Jerry: "MOM IS GIVING ME THE TALK, COME IN LE CHATEAU AND TALK 2 HER ABOUT YOUR CHEEK. I DON'T NEED TO HEAR DIS RIGHT NOW!" I sigh at the text talk and send a devilish face back to him. Then I remember. Chelsea.
Dialling as fast as I can I hit the numbers with skill and accuracy: 555-417-6249.
"Hello, Chelsea here. If consulting for business inquiries please call this number: 555-427-8164. If you're a contact, please wait a moment and you will be forwarded to my cell phone." The phone emitted a beep.
"It's Chelsea! Who's this?" I thought she'd recognize my number right away by now.
"Hey. Chelsea! It's Peter Collins, you're boyfriend." I add in for good measure. She has a ton of connections; for all I know there might be another Peter that SHE knows.
"Peter, what's wrong? You never call me at this time of day." I feel worried. Does she not want to see me? I don't think so – she's my fun, loving Chelsea!
"Nothing, bunny. But, can you set up a break time or something? I think I need to talk to you about something that happened earlier this morning." The boy pops into my mind again, and then the seductive look of the male nurse, and the horror of the blood on the boy's neck. I shudder and try to erase Liam from my mind. Chelsea seems like she doesn't want to be spoken to. Is she with a client? Maybe I should hang up and call in 5 minutes.
"Sweety it's highly unlikely for me to get a break, I mean everybody wants to get a makeover by Chelsea, and I thought you hated talking about your feelings anyways?" her tone seemed to become less concerned, almost like she was fading away. Her voice cracks in the static of the phone. I have to get a new phone provider. Rogers is bringing me nowhere.
"Chelsea, I just think this needs to be spoken about. If you don't think you can make time I can come over now." Was she not hearing me? This is the first time I'm going to speak out to anyone, is she going to throw me away? Girls sometimes, they always want to be loved and cared for, but will they ever return the favour?
"Actually Peter, now is probably the best time. BUT Make sure to put on some cologne or deodorant or whatever you men wear. The place needs to smell good for the customers."
"On my way, bunnykins!" I raise my arm and take a deep whiff of my armpit. Do I smell? I think not. But for Chelsea: ANYTHING! I quickly run into the house and drop my socks, shirt and pants in the hamper. Running around the house half naked, a sight anyone would kill to see. I step into the shower and turn it on a light mist. Just removing the sweat and acidic scent of the hospital.
As I make my way out of the shower, I can't help but look at a coconut and honey suckle exfoliating scrub that my mother has set out. I pick it up and read the instructions: "Apply generous amount of exfoliating scrub to fingertips, rub onto the face in circular motion for maximum results, and rinse. Keep product away from eye area." Of course, I try stuff and my cheek gets irritated but hey, my skin never felt so smooth.
I dry off and pick out my clothing from my room: Light blue boxers, undershirt, red t-shirt, black sweatpants, black hoodie, ankle socks and red converse. I flip my hair and watch the water droplets fall onto the mirror, they look so perfect yet so.. Messy. I pick up my towel and wipe them off.
I get my bag and put it on. I just can't stop thinking about that boy, who was he? Why is he sticking to me? If anything, the poor kid should be bugging the guy that killed him. Not some innocent guy that just happened to be walking in the woods.
I stopped at the red light and slammed my palms on the steering wheel. Seriously? This is the 4th one so far. I swear, I could have jogged there and back by now. These stoplights are merciless. 30 seconds before the lights are going to switch a kid walks out in front of me and starts to wash my windshield. Dang Squeegee-Kids. "Pay up!" his raspy voice boomed through the window. I hastily pulled out 5 dollars from my wallet and shoved it through the little slit. Green light – Finally! I stepped on the gas and drove over to Chelsea shop as fast as the law would let me.
"There you are!" she squealed as I stepped out of the car, frustrated, rolling the keys on my fingertips. I exhaled and kissed her forehead as I put my arm on her back.
"Chelsea-Bunny" I sighed, how hard can this be? I just have to.. Say it like I think it, but calmer. "Hey there, how's business?" I steer the conversation over to her.
Girls. They can be so self-centered sometimes. You give them a topic they really like and they can't shut up. It's like Entertainment Tonight on repeat.
"Hello to you too, Peter." Oh god, did I say something wrong?
"Business is good, as always. I've gotten plenty of customers for the 2 and a half hours that I've been open." She looks unsatisfied.
"So what is it that you have to tell me oh-so badly?" She stifled a laugh and began tracing lazy figure eights on the back of my neck. Then her fingers ran over the stitches and her arm dropped completely.
"What the heck is this? Oh Peter, did you get into a fight? Common, let's go in the back room and you can tell me what happened." I can't believe it! She's suddenly interested, and pulling me by the arm into the building. I winced in the bright lights and stood there looking dumb until my eyes adjusted to the lighting. I hung my sweater on the coat rack and followed her into the light blue room, wondering what was next to come..
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