4.1
Cries and Laughters
“Ah yes, naked girls — the universal language of boys.”
4.
An angel with a familiar face. Maybe from down the hall, maybe another class, maybe outside.
No, not from this world, but a face, an expression, that I know somehow.
What’re you smiling at? Do I have something on my face? Is something funny? Maybe laughing at my poor memory?
I love you.
I love you too. I think.
But some noise, some activity, is distracting.
Why can’t I remember? Why can’t I place you at all?
It’s OK, you’ll know everything when the time is right.
Who are you?
Time.
Time?
Better hurry, you’re going to be late.
Late for what?
Don’t you hear that?
I shouldn’t unless —
Panic.
Up! Get up! You’re going to miss it! Now, you idiot!
Too late, there it goes.
What now? Walk? Run? Can barely remember the way.
Yes, quickly, it loops around and stops at the other side . . . If I beat it to that stop . . .
No, I’ll never make it. I can see their faces now, all distorted with glee. Haha, look, it’s that loser! He overslept again! No, no, don’t stop for him!
Then what? Ask her for a ride? Yeah, she’d like that . . .
“Wanna see something hot?”
“Sure.” Stop grinning and let’s have it.
“She’s my favorite.”
“Nice face.”
“It gets better.”
Wow. OK, OK, let’s see the whole thing.
“Nice, huh?”
Ah yes, naked girls — the universal language of boys. A free country indeed, a whole magazine dedicated to it. Corrupt me, I don’t mind, it’s useless to resist. I’m already fallen, I don’t care anymore, why even pretend?
But it’s supposed to be a sin. Isn’t that what I was taught, isn’t that what I believe? Apparently not anymore. Used to be such a devout Christian, willing to take a beating, willing to make any sacrifice. What am I now? What do I believe?
Didn’t make sense, that’s why. Like saying it’s wrong to breathe, how can you not? Why should you feel guilty for being who you are, for being a person? Can’t prevent sexual thoughts any more than you can prevent breathing.
Why create us as we are, to begin with? Why make it irresistible to have these thoughts and then tell us it’s wrong? To torture us? If I create sentient beings that are unable to resist wrongs, I should be blamed, not them.
Didn’t count on it, did You? My imperfect nature, so imperfect, it doesn’t matter. You can say what You want, proscribe the heaven and the earth, and it still wouldn’t change anything, even something as simple as my desire. Blame it on the Devil, blame it on human nature, it’s still there, it’s still me, and it still won’t go away.
The original sin. That’s Your rationale. Because of Adam and Eve’s disobedience, we are placed in such an impossible situation, a sin we cannot get away from.
But how can this be just? How is this any better than my stepmother punishing me for things I’ve never done? How can anybody be responsible for Adam’s or Eve’s actions? Aren’t You supposed to be benevolent, aren’t You supposed to be morally righteous? What kind of God are You?
The story itself makes no sense. How can the knowledge of good and evil suddenly embarrass you of nakedness? Not because it’s evil! If it were, why did You tolerate it all this time? Why did You tolerate it until they realized it was evil? Is it all right to do evil if you don’t realize it? Still, You knew. If your children do evil things, do you let them until they figure it out on their own? No, you try to show them. How ironic, then, that You forbade them to eat the fruit from the tree of knowledge, that You became angry when they finally learned the truth, as if You’re angry that they stopped doing evil, as if You didn’t want them to find out.
Or was nakedness not evil until they acquired the knowledge? No, can’t realize something is evil unless it was already evil in the first place. Knowledge doesn’t create new truths.
How could you believe such a preposterous story? Because they expected you to? Because they all believed it? Because you’re too lazy to think for yourself?
You’re a sheep. You’d believe the moon is made of cheese if it made them happy. You just want to fit in, you just want their approval, you don’t care about the truth at all. They tell you the Book is the word of God, so you believe it. They tell you It’s beyond question, so you don’t. If It said it was your duty to kill your son, would you do that too? Abraham almost did it, why not you?
A coward. That’s what you are. You know the truth, but you can’t face the consequences, you won’t take responsibility. So go on, keep going to the church, keep professing to be a Christian, what’s the harm if you pretend not to know the difference?
“Nice of you to join us this morning.”
What do I say? How do I explain?
“Are you all right?”
Just act dumb. Like you don’t understand the question. There is some advantage to being a foreign kid with little understanding of English.
“Well, at least you’re all right. Have a seat, we’re doing exercises on page 47.”
Page 47 . . . This stuff again? Fractions. Decimals. Basic arithmetic. Keep reviewing the same thing, the same elementary school math . . . This is supposed to be an eighth-grade math class.
Wait, this whole book . . . What kind of class is this? It’s nice to get a fresh start on a subject I don’t like, but this is ridiculous, they must think I’m an idiot. And why wouldn’t they? I must look like an idiot, sound like an idiot, maybe even act like an idiot. That’s OK at home, but here . . .
Gum wrappers? Candy wrappers?
Just ignore it, they’ll get bored and stop eventually.
“Hey, you speak English?”
“Nope.”
“Hah! He’s funny.”
“Let me see that, I got a word for you.”
Some profanity no doubt.
“Here, you know this word?”
“No.”
“Why don’t you ask that girl to show you?”
Yeah, that’ll go over very well, stupid and perverted.
Actually, why not? I’m an ignorant foreign kid, and she’s rather pretty, would be worth it just to see the expression on her face. She can’t get mad at me. I’m just the butt of their joke.
“You know this word? They said I should ask you.”
“What? Who?”
Laughter.
“Oh, shut up! It’s not funny!”
Nice scene, that’s how the script goes. Happy with that little performance, an idiot boy making a fool of himself, her red face just a bonus on top. Be an idiot, and make them think they know you, it’s safe, isn’t it?
“That’s a nice report. Only took ten points off because it wasn’t typed.”
“Typed? But it wasn’t done. Was only a first outline of points.”
“Yes, but it was due this morning, it’d be worse if I didn’t grade that way.”
“How much worse?”
“About twenty points.”
“Then that’s what I should get.”
“But your grade will be lower.”
“I know, that’s what I deserve.”
“I don’t understand. You’d rather have a lower grade?”
“I’d rather have a grade I deserve, yes.”
“Okay, have it your way, no one’s ever asked me to lower their grade before.”
“Thank you.”
A serialized coming-of-age novel about a boy who must decide whether to live or die after surviving an abusive family and the death of his love. Read in order: 1.1, 1.2, 2.1, 2.2, 3.1, 3.2. Next: 4.2
