No Pads… No Helmets… Just Memories!

"Where exactly are we going?" Marc asked when his feet hit the ground as he dropped from the ladder.



"Remember how you said the water tower was like you 'special spot' but you showed it to me anyway?" I mentioned as he trotted behind me through the park.


"Well yeah...?"


"Well I'm going to show you my... a place that’s like my water tower." I smiled as we headed for the edge of the park.


“Nice wording…” he laughed.


“Yeah, yeah” I ushered waving a hand in the air, “He He I almost said id show you my special spot! I thought you were supposed to be the mature one!” I laughed back at him as we continued forwards.


We reached the edge of the park and I looked over at Marc to shoot him one last reassuring smile before stepping over the threshold into the woods. The woods weren't all that large in relation to the town, but for what they were it was a vast area. The woods were originally there to keep little kids from wandering onto the green of the golf course that sat just beyond them. But when initially building the course, it was said that a single man lived in the large home that sat in the center of the woods, at one point in time a single dirt road lead to the house and it once held great beauty and elegance. Because of the vast land the old man owned, the "barrier" was more of a forest in itself. When the man passed he wished the house to be left alone and his land to remain as a reserve in the town. With no immediate family on documentation or in the will, the house stayed, slowly through the years decaying and rotting away into the roots and rotten leaves of the surrounding foliage. It was often used for stoner teens to scare one another on Halloween night, or to creep out the new kid in town with stories of a old man who still haunted the home.


It was no true surprise to me when I pushed the final branch from my view exposing the large charred building. I looked over to Marc as his large eyes scanned over the sight in front of him in the open area. Even in its charred decaying state its beauty that once shined bright could still be made out in the dim areas the bricks weren’t chipped, the paint hadn’t stripped off the warped wood or the shingles hadn’t fallen to the earth below, it was still a magnificent site to view.


But the house its self wasn’t why I brought Marc there, or why I went there at all, it was just a bonus land marker. what I had intended to show him was the old tree house Alex and I fathers had built for us three years after they initially moved in. we basically grew up going to that exact tree house, it wasn’t much but to us it was pretty damn cool. It was a single “roomed” house with a now seemingly small front ledge where we would sit and look for small animals or talk about the house that sat just 300 meters away.


“Jasey, are we going to get in trouble for being here?" He asked as I grasped his hand and ushered him to the ladder of the old tree house.


I was hesitant to tell him that the man who owned it had been dead longer than we had been able to walk; I was afraid it might have freaked him out so I just silently shook my head and continued up the ladder.


"Are you going to tell me this is some magic tree house like in those stupid little books Jase?" He laughed trying to make light of his unknown surroundings.


"Nah man." I smiled reaching the top and putting out a hand for my friend, "this tree house is far from magical but it sure is something special."


“So why are we hear?” he asked positioning himself beside me on the small ledge as I slipped my old sketchbook from my drawstring into my lap.


“For the same reason you go to the water tower.” I smiled as I flipped open to a blank page.


“Are you going to tell me what's got you so beat now that we are here?” he asked.


I let out a sigh looking over at my friend; I guess I had to, didn't I? It wasn’t like I brought him there to sit awkwardly in silence while he watched me doodle. So that’s just what I did. I sat and explained him everything. Well the recent everything. I told him that Alex and I were friends before I left, and that we had the same sorts of correlation that he and I had. I told him that since I got back he’d been acting odd, and overbearing. I told him that Alex didn’t like me talking to Riley and I told him all about what happened at the party, I told him that ever since I got back it was as if my entire life was based on stupid boy drama, and drama I didn’t even want. I told him that I didn’t really want a boyfriend and that I had enough on my plate as is. all while I explained I sat vigorously drawing the abandon home that say before me, getting every nitty gritty detail as I went along, every crack, crevice, and splinter, the task preoccupying my mind so my words had no emotions attached as I spoke. All the while Marc sat listening, soaking in every stupid word I said. But in all honestly I had no idea why I was so caught up on things; I had no idea why I was even at the tree house.


I thought that by going there, everything would fall into place, like for some reason being back there would give me all the answers id been searching for since the moment I landed, but nothing, just the same question bounding itself through my mind.


“Well what are you going to do?” he asked bluntly.


“I honestly have no idea” I sighed, “nothing I guess.”


“Want my honest opinion?” He asked sitting upright.


“I’d rather you not lie to me.” I smiled never taking my eyes from my sketch.


“I think Alex is trying to do the right thing in the big picture, but doesn’t know what the right thing is.” he said looking into his lap.


“And for Riley?”


“I haven’t quite figured him out yet.”


“So what do I do?”


“I don’t know” he smiled leaning back against the tree house. “I haven’t quite figured you out yet either, what do you want.”


"I don't know what I want" I sighed.


"We never do." He smiled, "but more often than not, the thing we really want is what we are telling ourselves we don't, and that’s why we feel torn."


But what if what, or who I say I don't want is what could easily tear me apart. I wasn’t cutting myself off for their behalf, I was doing it for the greater good of my insanity, I was doing it to spare myself the misery, but then the question rises, is some misery worth suffering for?

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