Post by Zane on May 29, 2022 21:16:48 GMT -5
January 2020
The Scott family home
Arlington, NY
A few weeks after Zane’s suspension.
“Where are you going, Zane,” Emily Scott asks, her tone pained, curious, and a little bit fearful. “Why are you going? I don’t understand!”
Zane opens the front door to the accompaniment of the sound of the expansion of the metal spring of the storm door and drops the duffel and the backpack down onto the porch. He turns and looks at his parents and grandparents, his eyes alight with fury. His mother walks up and places her hand on his face adoringly. He closes his eyes and leans into it, then takes it and slowly removes it, allowing it to drop back to her side. She meets his response with an anguished look as his father walks up and places a comforting arm around her neck. She leans back into her husband and sort of sinks into him as he lifts his other arm and completes the hug.
“I don’t understand what’s going through your mind, lad,” his grandfather Clyde says, his tone stern, but not judgmental. “But I don’t think this is the way to solve it.”
“I can’t be here,” He explains, gritting his teeth. “I’m angry in a way that scares even me and I don’t know what to do with it”
His grandfather, grandmother, and father all look at him curiously while his mother responds with horror.
“Are you saying that you’re so angry about what they did to you at your job that you’d hurt us” she demands, her tone a combination of the pain of betrayal and anger. “Why? What did we ever do to you? We’ve been nothing but supportive!”
“I know,” Zane answers as he momentarily looks at the floor. “That’s why I have to go. I can’t take the risk that I’d ever lose control.”
She reaches out, places her hand on the top of his chin, and pushes it up.
“Honey, we all love you and want you to be safe,” she explains. “Even if we’re in danger because of it.”
“No,” Zane replies flatly.
“No,” Emily asks. “You don’t think we love you?”
“That’s not what I meant,” Zane replies, waiving the remark off.
“What’d you mean?” She presses.
“I...,” his voice trails off. “I’m sorry. I’m going. Don’t try and find me.”
Tears well up in Emily’s eyes and she turns and buries her face in Charles’ shoulder. His grandmother Edna steps forward.
“Grandma,” Zane stammers.
Edna Scott puts her hand over his mouth.
“Ry...,” she suddenly stops. “Zane.”
She moves her hand to the side of his face.
Zane’s eyes widen. “You’ve never called me by my first name.”
“I’ve never needed your attention as much as I do now,” She answers. “Listen to me, and listen good. You’re my only grandchild and I don’t want to lose you. Please, whatever you do, come back home. I’m old, and I want my grandson to be at my side whenever the time comes.”
He nods silently.
“Maybe it’s better than I am not here when that time comes,” he replies, drawing an anguished look from his grandmother, concern from his father, and anger from his grandfather. “You always deserved a better son and grandson than you got with me. Now you don’t have to worry about it.”
He doesn’t wait for anyone to respond, he turns, pulls his bags off of the porch, then walks down the steps and the driveway and gets into a waiting taxi, leaving footprints in the snow. He throws the bags in, gets in behind them, and closes the door. The car drives away, accompanied by the sobs of his mother and grandmother, who’re framed by their house, which has been fully decorated for Christmas.
The Scott family home
Arlington, NY
A few weeks after Zane’s suspension.
“Where are you going, Zane,” Emily Scott asks, her tone pained, curious, and a little bit fearful. “Why are you going? I don’t understand!”
Zane opens the front door to the accompaniment of the sound of the expansion of the metal spring of the storm door and drops the duffel and the backpack down onto the porch. He turns and looks at his parents and grandparents, his eyes alight with fury. His mother walks up and places her hand on his face adoringly. He closes his eyes and leans into it, then takes it and slowly removes it, allowing it to drop back to her side. She meets his response with an anguished look as his father walks up and places a comforting arm around her neck. She leans back into her husband and sort of sinks into him as he lifts his other arm and completes the hug.
“I don’t understand what’s going through your mind, lad,” his grandfather Clyde says, his tone stern, but not judgmental. “But I don’t think this is the way to solve it.”
“I can’t be here,” He explains, gritting his teeth. “I’m angry in a way that scares even me and I don’t know what to do with it”
His grandfather, grandmother, and father all look at him curiously while his mother responds with horror.
“Are you saying that you’re so angry about what they did to you at your job that you’d hurt us” she demands, her tone a combination of the pain of betrayal and anger. “Why? What did we ever do to you? We’ve been nothing but supportive!”
“I know,” Zane answers as he momentarily looks at the floor. “That’s why I have to go. I can’t take the risk that I’d ever lose control.”
She reaches out, places her hand on the top of his chin, and pushes it up.
“Honey, we all love you and want you to be safe,” she explains. “Even if we’re in danger because of it.”
“No,” Zane replies flatly.
“No,” Emily asks. “You don’t think we love you?”
“That’s not what I meant,” Zane replies, waiving the remark off.
“What’d you mean?” She presses.
“I...,” his voice trails off. “I’m sorry. I’m going. Don’t try and find me.”
Tears well up in Emily’s eyes and she turns and buries her face in Charles’ shoulder. His grandmother Edna steps forward.
“Grandma,” Zane stammers.
Edna Scott puts her hand over his mouth.
“Ry...,” she suddenly stops. “Zane.”
She moves her hand to the side of his face.
Zane’s eyes widen. “You’ve never called me by my first name.”
“I’ve never needed your attention as much as I do now,” She answers. “Listen to me, and listen good. You’re my only grandchild and I don’t want to lose you. Please, whatever you do, come back home. I’m old, and I want my grandson to be at my side whenever the time comes.”
He nods silently.
“Maybe it’s better than I am not here when that time comes,” he replies, drawing an anguished look from his grandmother, concern from his father, and anger from his grandfather. “You always deserved a better son and grandson than you got with me. Now you don’t have to worry about it.”
He doesn’t wait for anyone to respond, he turns, pulls his bags off of the porch, then walks down the steps and the driveway and gets into a waiting taxi, leaving footprints in the snow. He throws the bags in, gets in behind them, and closes the door. The car drives away, accompanied by the sobs of his mother and grandmother, who’re framed by their house, which has been fully decorated for Christmas.
2013, '18, '23 
2013 