11/22/2007

"So, tell me your story."

Geoff let out a quick, "Heh" which was probably subtle enough that she hadn't even noticed. Before he felt the pressure of silence to respond, he was temporarily granted a stay as Marci continued.

"I mean, I feel like I've done so much talking--you know all about me."

The truth was, Geoff was glad that she did most of the talking. Usually if too much of the burden of conversation was on him, it would soon float into awkward silence. It's not that Geoff wouldn't talk at all, but much of the time he wasn't good at coming up with something to say. The few topics that Geoff knew much about are of a narrow interest. He could talk about himself, but he hesitated to tell people very much, unless he really thought they were interested, and trusted them. That usually meant if they specifically asked him something about himself.

Geoff had met Marci at the college he was currently attending. She was one of the rare girls who seemed to like to give him attention--or perhaps she liked to get his. Either way, it seemed most girls were cordial at best, with the majority simply ignoring his existence. So it seemed to Geoff that Marci must have some kind of fancy for him. It was certainly nothing serious. She was probably just being friendly, and acted the same toward all guys. Nonetheless they seemed to keep crossing paths, and had some friendly dialogue. Due to this it felt to Geoff like maybe they really were friends.

Geoff hadn't made many real friends at school. He thought a lot of that had to do with the fact that he lived in an apartment off campus. He just didn't see people much outside of class, so any "friendships" tended to be really more acquaintances.

Geoff had gone to college after high school, but didn't stick with it as he got involved in "the real world". After several years and unfortunate circumstances, he had returned to school. The interesting thing was, people thought he looked young, and so assumed that he had come straight to college from high school like the rest of them had. He didn't bother to correct them. He actually preferred to be thought of that way, as just another student. The truth was, he was afraid that if he let people know about his age, they would sort of place him in a different category, put up some kind of barrier. While they might be friendly, they wouldn't want to be his friend, or would think that he wouldn't be interested in being their friend, so Geoff thought.

That wasn't the only thing that people didn't know about him. In fact, his age merely meant that he had many other stories which he kept to himself. In a way carrying around secrets seemed fun. Well maybe not fun, but perhaps exciting--it was like being undercover. Geoff thought of himself as this totally other person, but it was like he was in disguise and no one knew it. He thought, "if they knew everything about me, they'd be shocked." But his disguise didn't allow people to even think him mysterious, since it wasn't apparent that there was a hidden story.

"So, like I said, tell me your story." This time, Marci paused, waiting expectantly for an answer. They had ended up having dinner together, rather accidentally. He had ran into her in the hall while on his way to grab a bite to eat. She decided to join him, as she had not yet eaten either. Geoff was not normally at school at this time, but was working late on a project.

"Oh, I don't know that there's too much to say."

"Certainly there's something--everyone has a story. Come on, tell me about yourself."

"Heh. You wouldn't even believe me." Geoff tried to say this mostly under his breath, but realized he'd been heard anyway.

"Sure I would. Try me."

"Nah, you don't really want to know."

"Sure I do. I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't want to know."

"No, no, I mean, you really don't want to know. It's not a good story."

"Geez. You make it sound like such a big deal. Come on, just tell me."

"No, I really don't like to talk about it."

"What is it? What's wrong?"

Apparently the tone of his voice and the distant look in his eyes had given him away. But he knew he had already made a mistake by hinting at the fact that he might be hiding something.

"Nothing, it's just that... I don't like to think about it."

"Why?"

Geoff realized it was going to be futile to try and dissuade her. He learned early in life that one thing which drives women crazy is when they think there is something to know which they don't know.

"You really seriously want to know?"

"Yeah, tell me."

"You promise to still be my friend after I tell you?"

"What?! Don't be silly! Of course I'm still going to be your friend."

"How much time do you have?"

"Geez, is it that long of a story? Now you have me really curious. I've got some homework to finish, but I can get to it a bit later. Tell me about yourself."

Geoff sighed. "O.K., fine. This is my story...."

"Well, to begin with, I'm older than you probably think. In fact, if you add ten years to what you'd guess, you'll probably be a lot closer." Geoff started.

"What?! How old are you?"

"Heh." Geoff sighed. "Thirty-two."

"No way! Seriously. You can't be."

"I said you wouldn't believe me."

"You are seriously thirty-two? You don't look more than like twenty-two or so."

"Thanks."

"So, what were you doing before you came here to college?"

"Good question. I did go to college after high school, but then..." Geoff hesitated, trying to figure out where to start. After a moment he continued, "First, understand I'm not from around here--not anywhere close to here. I came here to get away. I wanted to get as far away as I could."

"Geez, where are you from that's so bad?"

"I grew up in the mid-sized town of Oswane, in Cantwell." Geoff sighed, then added as an aside, almost to himself, "It was such a beautiful country."

"Was? Is it not now?"

"Well, let me tell you the whole story. I have mainly good memories of growing up. I had a loving parents and a close extended family. I remember many warm, sunny summer days playing out side with my brother and my best friend. We rode our bikes around or played by the creek near the railroad. Looking back now, everything seems like it was so simple and tranquil then.

"Things were going pretty well; everyone seemed simply to think that's just how life went, at least there. My dad owned a local business, which thrived on building custom homes. As I grew up, I expected things to be similar, as did everyone else. I figured I might be a project manager for my Dad, or maybe start my own business. Either way though, I had this picture of the life I was going to have, one which fit to my liking in which I was content and happy.

"My parents had always been conservative, and that's how I was raised. At the time, the conservatives were in control of the government. However when I was in my late teens, there was some doubt about the job the conservatives were doing, and therefore some concern as to if they were going to successfully lead us to our destined future of prosperity. Around that time, the reform party started to get some attention. They were like a neo-conservative group, and as time progressed, they quickly gained popularity. I was a strong supporter. I believed that it would only be through their help that I would be able to have the future which I was supposed to have. I promoted the cause of the reform party vigorously. Within a few years, they had gained control of the government on promises to improve life for everyone in the area.

"However, not long after they had taken control, cracks began to appear. They didn't keep all of their promises, and began to consolidate control and crack down on freedoms. The liberals complained fiercely against these new developments, though they naturally hadn't been supporters of the reform party to begin with. They protested and petitioned and marched and complained. The more they did so, the more the reform party began to resist them and to become more forceful in their resistance. The situation deteriorated as the impasse dragging on. Finally, violence broke out as both sides' patience ran out.

"The country turned into civil war. I was torn. I still believed that the ideas of the neo-conservatives might be right, but I knew the reform party wasn't on track. Yet while I sometimes wanted to, I couldn't buy into the liberal party either. As the war began, the reform party disassociated and began to ignore me, despite how involved I'd been. Maybe they had sensed my doubt and uncertainty. Either way, at this point I was left orphaned in a sense. I was not a part of either side. In this condition, I was not a target of either party, but neither did I receive protection from either.

"I tried to stay out of the conflict as much as I could, but the war was going on all around me. There were always gun blasts and mortar shell explosions. One day I was shopping in the market next to my apartment. I heard a whistling sound but before I could even think it was followed by an enormous blast and explosion. For a second I saw debris flying through the air, walls crumbling and smoke billowing up, and I heard everyone yelling. The next thing I remember, I woke up in a makeshift hospital. I had been hit by some debris from one of the structures I had been standing nearby which had collapsed as a result of the explosion. Due to the situation, I was sent out of the hospital soon after I had regained consciousness and been bandaged up, but well before my wounds were healed.

"My apartment had also been destroyed in the attack, and so I found myself homeless in addition to being injured. My parents had moved before the fighting got bad, and everyone else I knew was either too far away to safely travel to, or in a similar situation as myself. So I wandered around and found an abandoned building where I rested. The problem was, it was falling apart itself. Whenever there was an explosion, rumbling, or if the wind even blew to hard, debris might fall from the ceiling or walls. I tried to let my injuries heal, but before long always seemed to get hit by some piece of shrapnel or debris which would reopen a wound.

"I basically lived this way for over a year. In addition to my physical wounds, it continually and greatly pained me to watch as the country I loved was being torn apart and blown to pieces. Part of it certainly had to do with the fact that I was watching my future plans and dreams go up in smoke. Likewise, it seemed like my thoughts had been blown into pieces as many a building had been. Trying to decide what to believe was like trying to piece together the parts from a wreckage--it was hard to know what to think or who to believe. When you're focusing on survival, all of your ideals come into question, and conglomerate into a pool of confusion.

"I kept wondering how things might have been different. What if I hadn't supported the reform party? What if others hadn't? What if the conservatives had kept control--or the liberals had taken control? Could this all have been avoided? Could it have gone better? I was haunted by all these questions.

"As I mentioned, traveling was difficult and dangerous because of the fighting. But finally I decided not to sit around and try to wait around for the fighting to stop and order to return. I decided to try and get out of the city and escape to somewhere. I managed to get out of the country. I met some people who became friends and helped me out. In fact, they are the ones who helped me to get here.

"Wow." Marci paused, obviously not quite sure what to say. "You're right, I don't believe you," she said with a hesitant grin.

"I certainly wish it weren't true." Geoff stated quite plainly, as if it needed to be said. "But unfortunately, that not quite the end of the story. When I finally got out of the country and ended up here, I had hoped to leave all the war behind and have a new start." Geoff reached over and touched the inside of his arm, feeling the scars he received from a shrapnel blast during the war.

"But I kept having flashbacks of that time. Well, not exactly flashbacks, like I thought I was actually there, but I kept remembering. It came and went, but sometimes I can't stop the memories. It's like I'm back there, reliving the pain, being wounded all over again. While I know that the life I had expected and hoped for will never be, I often find myself in the middle of a fantasy about it, as if it were just a matter of time. It is like being haunted by the apparition of a deceased future which never was nor will ever be."

"Wow. That's crazy. I'm sorry."

"Thanks, but I'm not looking for sympathy--I'd just like to find some answers."

"Yeah, I bet. I mean, have you thought about talking to someone... you know, getting some help?"

"Yeah, I feel like I could really use some help, but the thing is, I don't think anyone knows what to do for me. I did go and talk to one counselor for a while, but it didn't seem to help much. He mainly just confirmed I wasn't crazy. I mean, I feel like what I went through doesn't correspond to how I'm reacting to it. And I think that a lot of people don't or won't get it, like they'd think, 'why do you feel that way--get over it and move on.' I wish I could.

"I don't like to complain. What I experienced wasn't as bad as a lot of other people. And I don't hold anyone at fault. What happened happened. The problem now is just how I react to everything that has happened. I wish I could respond differently, but I don't know how."

The two of them sat silently for several moments. Marci finally spoke up, "Thanks. Thanks for sharing. I'm glad you did. Well, I don't want to be rude, but I should probably go work on some homework now."

"Yeah, thanks for listening."

"I definitely want talk to you again soon though."

"OK, great. Talk to you later."

Marci got up and left. Geoff continued to sit where he was. He felt like he ought to light a cigarette, even though he didn't smoke, it just seemed to be the thing to do. Geoff wished that talking about everything would help. He guessed he thought if people would understand, perhaps that would make things better. But nothing seemed to change. He could still feel the scars from the wounds he received. It was one more reminder of a past which couldn't be changed and refuses to go away.

 

"All I ever wanted was a good job and some bus fare... and a rocket, and a bomb..." Michael Knott

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