The Front Of The Car | Partayke | Creative Storytelling For The Soul
That’s where it all went down. I’m sitting there watching from the back seat of the car like I’m at a drive in theater. All that was missing was the popcorn and jujubees. I hear screaming. “grab his legs.” They grab his legs and drag him to the front of the car.
He gets punched multiple times until the screaming stops. He’s barely holding on. A gun emerges he gets shot right before me. Blood splashes across the windshield. The funny thing is I wasn’t scared. I thought I was one of them and this could never happen to me. As I sat watching I justified it thinking he must have done something really bad to deserve this. But on second thought this was just a feeble attempt to quell my first thought which was this is totally ridiculous and nothing more than a misunderstanding. A misunderstanding that could have easily been resolved.
It seems that some code was broken. A code that could be seen as just a misunderstanding led to someone’s death. As they were cleaning up the scene I kept hearing someone say “he’s in the car.” Could they be talking about me? I was a part of them but always took a back seat when things got too heavy. Maybe because I was younger or because they knew my upbringing did they let me take a back seat role. My Grandmother raised me after my parents died. She was a tough cookie and everyone in the neighborhood knew it. They didn’t mess with her so they didn’t mess with me too much either. Truth be told they didn’t seek me out I sought them. Maybe because I was younger or because they knew my upbringing did they let me take a back seat role. My Grandmother raised me after my parents died. She was a tough cookie and everyone in the neighborhood knew it. They didn’t mess with her so they didn’t mess with me too much either. Truth be told they didn’t seek me out I sought them.
I liked the camaraderie, the laughter, the trash talk, the good times. How we would walk the neighborhood with impunity as if we were kings. No one dared messed with us.
There were many good times but at times it wasn’t. Times I just didn’t understand. Like I didn’t understand how someone accidentally stepping on a shoe could mean death could soon follow. Some things just didn’t make sense to me. I think they sensed this about me and gave me passes so I didn’t think too much about it. It was like I was part of them but not at the same time. In that sense I guess I enjoyed the best of both worlds. I thought the passes would continue. There were signs along the way and silent whispers but I told myself that could be chalked up to my own guilty conscience speaking to me for being a part of something I knew deep down I shouldn’t have been. But like I said I needed the camaraderie. I needed to feel a part of something and this, it seemed, was it.
School came easy. I excelled academically and had many so called “intelligent friends”. They wondered how I could be friends with such riff-raff. I tried at times to merge the two sets of friends but it never worked out. They were seen as too square, and rightfully so, so I stopped trying.
Suddenly the door opens and they jump in. I remember being squished in the backseat and cracking jokes about my middle position. We were all laughing. The laughing stopped abruptly and I suddenly had an uneasy feeling. I knew my time was up. I asked where we were going. No one answered. I suggested we stop for chicken, my treat! No one passes up on free chicken so we pull into the chicken spot. I don’t just get out, I run out. I knew my passes had run out. I ran into the chicken spot. They ran behind. I jumped behind the counter and quickly explained my situation. The employees hide me in a large bin and tell them I ran out the back door. They pursued. I emerged from the bin and ran in the opposite direction as fast as I could. After what seemed like a few miles of straight running, I paused for a moment.
Once I caught my breath I called my aunt who lived in another state. She was happy to hear from me almost as if she was expecting my call. She said of course I could stay with her. I called my grandmother to let her know what happened and that I would not be returning anytime soon. I thought she would be upset but she was understanding and gave me her blessing. I got a bus ticket to my Aunt’s and never looked back. On the bus ride to my Aunt’s I couldn’t help but to smile. I was smiling at the fact that as soon as I got on the bus the door slammed closed. It actually slammed so hard the bus driver had a hard time prying it back open.
I believed in God but wasn’t the most spiritual person. I also wasn’t a complete fool either. I know that with that door closing as it did right after I got on was a sign that God was sending me. He was letting me know that it was time to close that chapter in my life and never look back. It also served as a metaphor of sorts that life is nothing more than a series of doors opening and closing. It’s up to us to decide which doors to go through and which doors to close.
PARTAYKE.COM
CREATIVE STORYTELLING FOR THE SOUL
Originally published at https://www.partayke.com.
