Through the Window

(August 18)

I threw a punch. My closed fist ripped into my brother's eye. He threw a punch, and it landed in the back of my head, slightly disorienting me.


* * * * *


My brother stole my battery today. It was charging upstairs in the laundry room and I fell asleep. I was supposed to call Jason today, and figure out plans for the next 6 months of my incredibly not busy life. I asked my mom if she took the phone, and she said it should be where I left it, she just put it in a small box. Of course, the small box was a horded box filled with envelopes, small screws, and infinite papers. No phone.

I would have so much more to life if I had a job, or a car, or a place that doesn't corrode the inside of my throat so that every 9 minutes I have to clear my throat like a dying old man hooked up to an oxygen machine. Earlier this morning I went into my friend's work, the only place of work I was referenced at. The only place that I was sure was a sure thing. I had my dad drive me down the 6 minute drive which for my dad somehow took 21 minutes.

I walked through the double doors with my resume, my references, my birth certificate, and even my passport, and the first thing the receptionist asked was, "Did you bring your DMV printout." I haven't driven for 3 months. My license is expired.

On the ride home my dad told me I wouldn't get anywhere in life because I was rude and selfish. I asked my dad to drop me off at the grocery store across the street from my house. I took the cookie samples they have at the bakery. Take one, I took four. This is the life. Self proclaimed PUA, staying in walking distance, having to steal cookies, asking my dad for rides. I'm in 8th grade all over again.

I came home. My dad didn't say much. I can't do anything here, I can't. I've tried. I wanted to ask Jason if I could move in with him in Marin, just until the trade job takes me in 6th months. But, I couldn't find the number in my dad's phone. It was in my old phone I left charging. No phone. No call. No way out. Please hold one moment.

My brother came home. I opened the door and walked to the kitchen.

"You have my phone."
"I'll have it in a sec."
"Give me back my phone."
"Okay okay," he pulled my red Kyocera phone out. "I don't have the battery."
"Where's the fuckin battery."
"I gave it to a friend, I'm about to get it right now."
"Why the fuck did you steal my phone in the first place."
"I don't know Jaypee, I don't have a room."

What the fuck!

I told my brother that we were going to get the phone right now. We walked outside, and we passed our designated garage. He threw a bunch of things. I waited. He threw a bunch of things. Grabbed a few scraps of paper. I waited.

"Okay let's go."
"You know we're walking right?"
"Why are we walking, you have the key to your car."
"I can't fucking drive you fucking idiot, my license is fucking expired."
"What, you afraid of some cops man."
"It's fucking illegal."

We walked back and forth in the apartment parking lot as my brother called my nigger and fucking Ameri'can. And don't I know, that he got beat up by cops. It was ten years ago when my brother left for jail before he left Highschool. It was ten years ago. And every morning I've woken up to the same fucked up story about how he got beat up by cops.

"I just fucking want, my fucking battery!" I said.
"Don't follow me."
"It's my fucking battery."
"You want to walk, we'll walk."
"Okay, we'll fucking walk." I could see the cars staring at us yelling at each other as we walked back and forth on the street.
"Don't follow me."

He walked up to me, his chest pressed forward. He nudged me with his elbow. I threw his face back by his neck. I shot in, tackling his legs. And just like that traffic stopped as my brother and I decked into the street, my thumbs ripping into his eye sockets. He pushed me off and I followed him back to the sidewalk, walking back home. Back where we started. I followed short of him, while he told me I was an Ameri'can and I was a Nigger. I turned around, and I pushed him before he could say anything stupid. I threw my fist into his face, and he threw one into the back of my head. I shot for his legs and he kicked me off. "I get it, you think your tough," he said.

"Don't you know I'm on probation," he said leading up the stairs to our house. "Hurry up, before the neighbors see."
"Exactly!" I said, "Why do the fuck do you do this stupid shit then."

My brother sat on the porch as I walked into my house. I threw my shirt off my shoulders and put another one on while I sat on my bed. My brother left. I could see him through my window.

* * * * *

"I don't know Ivan, I've been here for 2 years, don't you think I would've got a job by now," I said into the phone. I know out of all people, Ivan didn't want to hear from me. I haven't been back to church since I left a year ago. Maybe more.

"Dude, it's your fuckin attitude. I know it's not what you want to hear but you need to stop being fucking rude, and be realistic," he said. I promised him that I was listening. But, he knew I wasn't.