I have gone beyond a point of no return I do not think many people in this world have. Despite what people may think I do not believe that makes me or her bad people. We simply fell into something. Something beautiful. Something healthy. Something we both needed. I just want that understood in case anyone found out and is to read this. I don't feel shame and neither does she. We love one another and that is enough reason to excuse our behavior. As if we needed one anyway.

      I would say it all started on the day of my graduation, but if we're honest it started earlier. Even if not charged with the emotions it inspires now, it seems in life all actions can have unexpected outcomes down the road. It really started with him dying.

      Wires jutted from machines into him. His skin was pale except the redness around the entry wounds of the equipment. When they fed him his chest jutted and his back arched as the mush was pushed into his stomach via feeding tube. He made noises, not words. Noises that only a man with no soul left could allow to escape himself. My dad was dying. I was 13.

      That was the last time I saw him. Five feet behind me was Mom signing the paperwork with the nurse to unplug him. I was mad at her for awhile; I thought she was killing him. But I realized eventually he wasn't living. Even the term 'unplug' associated with 'no longer breathing' sets the tone for what he really was in that state. A machine. Empty, hollow, clicking by and marking time with every revolution of automatic systems. Nothing more.

      I grew up, through the years I became more and more the man of the house. Mom never asked me to take more responsibility and I never said I would, I just did it. I was happy to. With that kind of weight on a kid's shoulders he tends to faulter and such as it was with me. I was an okay student but not good enough for college. I had a few friends who, like adolescent friends do, flew away to other flocks till' their were only one or two left. I knew my future and I was okay with it. I was gonna be in my hometown the rest of my life. I was gonna work in the same building or start my own business, see the same customers, and drink after my shift with the same people over and over again. That's fine with me. Sounds kinda charmed, a priviledge to get to know one facet of the world so intimately.

      So a few months before my graduation, it was no surprise that I was begging Mom not to do anything big for a celebration. We were there in the kitchen when the scuffle ensued. She wore her white tank top and basic jeans, the usual attire of Mom at home. Although the last couple years it seemed she did away with the bra. If it wasn't for her being my own parent I might've been liable to be hypnotized by the nipples protruding from the stretch fit fabric.

      "It's your one day, buddy! How could I not want to celebrate it big with you," Mom giggled.

      "I told you, Mom, it's not necessary. Everyone who would show up will be around a long time. I have decades to party it up with the same ten folks," I retorted with a laugh.

      "Ugh, I wish you'd stop saying stuff like that. I'll always be happy if you're around but can you at least pretend like your future has some hope?".

      "I have a 2.0 GPA, I'm near to a truancy notice, and the few colleges I applied to didn't even bother wasting paper for a rejection slip. According to Academia, I have no hope,".

      "Many, many men became successful without a college degree. You're father included in that list,".

      Her face went a bit stale, it had been years but for both of us Dad was always a sore subject. That's something funny I noticed. Pain, real deep stuff, never goes away. It just gets smoothed over, or numbed. You can even ask an old lady who lost her husband 40 years ago about him and if you pay attention enough you still see it. The pain. In the raise of an eyebrow or the heaviness of a breath those we lose live in those gestures forever. A part of their soul deposited into us.

      Mom straightened up though and smiled warmly at me, reaching out and rubbing my hair between her fingers. I always thought she was beautiful when she smiled. She sported that shorter, blonde hair and her skin was slighty tanned. A few freckles mottled her complexion and she had what she called a "child bearing body". Curvy as hell but still thin where it counted I was told by my friends when I was 14. I think I punched that kid after he said it.

      So a few months passed and there I was with a cap on my head and my gown tripping me on stage. I'm sure everyone got a picture of that one, my luck. When we left the ceremony Mom was glowing at me, she seemed so proud. That hug from her was the first of many that seemed warmer than any I had had before.

      We turned down our street and to my surprise only two other cars were parked in our street. Mom had actually listened. And I knew the two cars by sight. Regina and Adam's. My two friends. Twins they were however if you ever asked them they'd say the other was adopted.

      "Thank you," I told Mom as she parked the car.

      "What for?" she asked.

      "For listening. You've always been good at that. So, thank you,".

      Mom gave me that warm smile of hers and we went in.

      It was maybe the lamest graduation party of all time but to me it was perfect. The only three people in the world I cared to talk to sitting around me, good food I didn't have to share all that much, in clothes I didn't have to care about looking good in. I think people take that stuff for granted. Mom was in the kitchen preparing another serving of food while the three of us friends shot the shit around the table.

      "No, no, no. Mrs. Mullens was the worst teacher," argued Regina, pointing her fork at her brother with every word.

      "You say that cause she caught you cheating on a test once. ONCE. And now you can't let go of a grudge," Alex retorted. "The worst was Mr. McKay, no debate,".

      "I had to take drastic action or I wasn't gonna pass, Alex. Pardon me for trying,".

      "Cheating isn't trying. It's cheating. Mullens is a sweet old lady doing her job,".

      Regina with an eyeroll turned to me.

      "What about you? Who was the worst?".

      "Ehhh, I don't know," I gave back weakly.

      The truth was I didn't think any of them were bad. I preffered some over others, had ideas on how things could be better, shit like that. But I'm not a teacher, I don't know what it's like to contend with hundreds of Regina's and Alex's a year. Besided, pretty much every bit of trouble I got into was my own fault. 

      "You don't know? I don't believe it. In fact, I bet I can guess who you don't like," joked Alex.

      Me and Regina looked at one another, laughed, and then looked at him and begged him to try.

      "You really didn't like Ms. Tankers," he said.

      My eyes went wide. Ms. Tankers. I hadn't thought about her in a few years. Well I did but I didn't. My face must have given away my worry.

      "Hah! I'm right, aren't I?" Alex rejoiced.

      "Nah. Nope. She was fine," I lied.

      There was a history with Ms. Tankers. One i'll get into later. But she was swimming rent free in my head at that moment.

      "Before she left the school you would always be giving her death glares and shit, dude. You spent more time in detention because of her than anyone else," Regina added.

      "It wasn't like that. She was a... nice woman. Nice teacher. She did some things I didn't agree with sometimes but I never thought she was bad," I responded, doing my best to pull myself together.

      I think the two could tell the subject rubbed me a certain way and they dropped it. The rest of the night went on without a hitch and before I knew it I was ushering them out the door and waving goodbye as they entered their shared car. Yes, shared car. Trust me, I hear about it all the time.

      Watching their car peel out and down the road my mind drifted back to Ms. Tankers. If only they or anybody else knew the true story. I'm sure whoever's reading this can already guess but to confirm, yes, this part of my life is that stereotypical. Her first name was Marion. And I knew that because I spent a lot of my senior year moaning it.

      Yes, in fact, Marion Tankers and I had a... relationship I'm sure the school would have had a field day with. Luckily they never found out. And Alex was right, I did spend a lot of time in detention by Mary's doing, but it was no punishment. She loved having her brains fucked out by students and I was more than happy to oblige.

      As I stood in the doorway, fantasizing about our past escapades, I heard footsteps behind me that made me close the book on that chapter. I turned and saw Mom beaming with pride at me although the bags around her eyes told me she was tired.

      "My little boy, the graduate," she said, then leaning in for a hug.