NatsuHe shakily got to his feet, his knees still feeling like strawberry jello. If anyone would ask him why strawberry, Andy wouldn't know what to say, other than he simply liked strawberry. But right now, even the thought of strawberry jello felt like it might send whatever was in his stomach right back up to his mouth. He didn't realize he was panting hard, scrambling out the door and into the light as quickly as he could, for fear that it would shut again and leave him in the darkness. He leaned heavily against the wall, his breath coming out accompanied by long, unintelligible whines. High pitched, filled with panic, he forced himself to calm down, not wanting to have a heart attack in this kind of place.
When Andy finally caught his breath and forced his stomach and heart rate back down, he noticed that he was in a window-lined hallway. Gray steel walls lined with black windows. How strange, he had ben certain it was daytime when he was outside. He swore he couldn't have been in that horrible blindness room more than an hour at most. Did time not pass normally here? He supposed that would make as much sense as anything else in this strange sci-fi world. He passed by one window, casting a sideways glance at it. And then he paused, his eyes widening at the sight before him.
In the window was a young woman, with pale skin, a heart shaped face, and long, wavy blonde hair cascading down her back. Her eyes were green and warm, with crinkly lines under them from suntans and smiles. She was perhaps a few years older than he was, 22 or 23, thin, with a small waist and tiny breasts. Her skin was dotted with freckles, more numerous than stars in the night sky. She had a chipped front tooth, one that showed when she gave one of her big, red lipstick smiles. Her nose was slightly crooked, having been broken once as a child. She was absolutely gorgeous, the most lovely woman he had ever laid his eyes on. She was warm, soft, loving, and understanding. And her attention was focused on the small child in front of her.
He was small, young. No more than five. Andy immediately recognized the chubby boy with white-blonde hair. He was drooling, dressed in overalls and a baseball hat, his sticky fingers clutching a toy truck. His keen eyes were trained on the woman, and when she smiled, he smiled his drooling, gap-toothed smile back at her. Outside of the window, the adult Andy smiled, feeling a stab of pain in his heart. His mother. What an angel she had been. A young widow working as a waitress at a crappy in-n-out diner in Oklahoma City, with a son everyone thought was retarded. But she knew. She knew he was smart. She had always believed in him. He couldn't speak, or read lips, or read at all back then. But he didn't have to know her words to know her love.
Then the scene changed. The woman was gone. Andy knew where, she had gone six feet underground in a tiny plot in Willow Creek Cemetery, courtesy of a drunk driver. An older Andy, now 6 or 7, sat alone on a schoolyard bench, dust blowing in the air. He was in clothes too big for him, basketball shorts and a mens medium t-shirt so baggy it hung off his shoulder. He had hated his baggy clothes, his thin arms and legs sticking out of them like twigs. They made him look like a white version of those emaciated Ugandan kids on the cover of the National Geographic magazines. Though, given that he lived on a diet of rice, cornbread, and sour milk in those days, emaciated he might well have been. Parkington's Home for Troubled Boys said it fed kids, didn't mean it fed them well. Protein and vegetables were for special occasions, or when state inspectors came down to visit. Even then, it was tripe.
Out of the corner of his eye, Andy spotted movement. Three boys, all bigger and older than him, were coming up behind him. They didn't even bother trying to be sneaky, they knew he couldn't hear. Besides, it wasn't like he could have run anyways. But the way they suddenly fell upon the young Andy obviously took him by surprise. They had him on the ground in seconds, stomping and kicking on him. Andy turned away, closing his eyes. He couldn't watch anymore. He knew where this went. This kind of routine would happen every day until July 28th, 1966, when he'd meet Simon. Simon would take care of him, Simon would teach him. Simon would be his older brother. Until Simon abandoned him to be an aid worker in Africa, the orphanage went bottom up, and he left to become a wandering farmhand. He didn't need to see anymore. Keeping his eyes forward, he refused to look anymore at the windows, until he finally came to another door.
He hoped it wasn't another dark, torturous room. When he opened it, thankfully, it was brightly lit, almost exactly like the room he had been in before the blind room. But this room was different. There were two other people in here.
Startled, Andy almost took a step back out of the room, bumping into the now closed door. Yep, these definitely looked like people, if not the weirdest pair he had ever seen. A young prepubescent girl dressed up like a roman princess, and a scary looking, pale young man who's ethnicity seemed hard to place, though Andy got the faintest suspicion he might be hispanic. His clothes struck him as odd, all black and sharp, like those punks one might see in the big cities up north, Boston or New York City. He was wary of them both, not sure whether this was a trap or another test. He waved cautiously to them, wanting to be certain that they were real people, and not illusions or wandering lotus eaters. He had had enough of both for now.
When Andy finally caught his breath and forced his stomach and heart rate back down, he noticed that he was in a window-lined hallway. Gray steel walls lined with black windows. How strange, he had ben certain it was daytime when he was outside. He swore he couldn't have been in that horrible blindness room more than an hour at most. Did time not pass normally here? He supposed that would make as much sense as anything else in this strange sci-fi world. He passed by one window, casting a sideways glance at it. And then he paused, his eyes widening at the sight before him.
In the window was a young woman, with pale skin, a heart shaped face, and long, wavy blonde hair cascading down her back. Her eyes were green and warm, with crinkly lines under them from suntans and smiles. She was perhaps a few years older than he was, 22 or 23, thin, with a small waist and tiny breasts. Her skin was dotted with freckles, more numerous than stars in the night sky. She had a chipped front tooth, one that showed when she gave one of her big, red lipstick smiles. Her nose was slightly crooked, having been broken once as a child. She was absolutely gorgeous, the most lovely woman he had ever laid his eyes on. She was warm, soft, loving, and understanding. And her attention was focused on the small child in front of her.
He was small, young. No more than five. Andy immediately recognized the chubby boy with white-blonde hair. He was drooling, dressed in overalls and a baseball hat, his sticky fingers clutching a toy truck. His keen eyes were trained on the woman, and when she smiled, he smiled his drooling, gap-toothed smile back at her. Outside of the window, the adult Andy smiled, feeling a stab of pain in his heart. His mother. What an angel she had been. A young widow working as a waitress at a crappy in-n-out diner in Oklahoma City, with a son everyone thought was retarded. But she knew. She knew he was smart. She had always believed in him. He couldn't speak, or read lips, or read at all back then. But he didn't have to know her words to know her love.
Then the scene changed. The woman was gone. Andy knew where, she had gone six feet underground in a tiny plot in Willow Creek Cemetery, courtesy of a drunk driver. An older Andy, now 6 or 7, sat alone on a schoolyard bench, dust blowing in the air. He was in clothes too big for him, basketball shorts and a mens medium t-shirt so baggy it hung off his shoulder. He had hated his baggy clothes, his thin arms and legs sticking out of them like twigs. They made him look like a white version of those emaciated Ugandan kids on the cover of the National Geographic magazines. Though, given that he lived on a diet of rice, cornbread, and sour milk in those days, emaciated he might well have been. Parkington's Home for Troubled Boys said it fed kids, didn't mean it fed them well. Protein and vegetables were for special occasions, or when state inspectors came down to visit. Even then, it was tripe.
Out of the corner of his eye, Andy spotted movement. Three boys, all bigger and older than him, were coming up behind him. They didn't even bother trying to be sneaky, they knew he couldn't hear. Besides, it wasn't like he could have run anyways. But the way they suddenly fell upon the young Andy obviously took him by surprise. They had him on the ground in seconds, stomping and kicking on him. Andy turned away, closing his eyes. He couldn't watch anymore. He knew where this went. This kind of routine would happen every day until July 28th, 1966, when he'd meet Simon. Simon would take care of him, Simon would teach him. Simon would be his older brother. Until Simon abandoned him to be an aid worker in Africa, the orphanage went bottom up, and he left to become a wandering farmhand. He didn't need to see anymore. Keeping his eyes forward, he refused to look anymore at the windows, until he finally came to another door.
He hoped it wasn't another dark, torturous room. When he opened it, thankfully, it was brightly lit, almost exactly like the room he had been in before the blind room. But this room was different. There were two other people in here.
Startled, Andy almost took a step back out of the room, bumping into the now closed door. Yep, these definitely looked like people, if not the weirdest pair he had ever seen. A young prepubescent girl dressed up like a roman princess, and a scary looking, pale young man who's ethnicity seemed hard to place, though Andy got the faintest suspicion he might be hispanic. His clothes struck him as odd, all black and sharp, like those punks one might see in the big cities up north, Boston or New York City. He was wary of them both, not sure whether this was a trap or another test. He waved cautiously to them, wanting to be certain that they were real people, and not illusions or wandering lotus eaters. He had had enough of both for now.
