Moments - Part I - Chapter 1: The Day I Met Jack

[Warning: This story will deal with child abuse and neglect. So, if you don’t want to read a story that deals with that, which I completely understand, then this story probably isn’t for you.]

Like most human beings, I don’t remember every single day, hour, minute, second of my life. What I do remember are moments, valuable moments that changed my life one way or another. I don’t remember taking my first steps or saying my first words or going to preschool. I remember quite clearly though my first day of kindergarten—the day I first met Jack.

“Will, Alex! Get dressed! We’re leaving in five minutes!” my mother yelled from the kitchen. My brother and I had already climbed out of our bunk beds and were getting dressed. I was wearing a striped polo, jeans, and hightop sneakers. I don’t remember what my brother wore that day. At my mother’s yell, we hurried up, grabbed our bags, and ran down the stairs two at a time. My mother was making breakfast in the kitchen while my baby sister threw cereal at the wall. As we sat, plates of food—eggs, bacon, biscuits, the works—were set in front of us.

“Hurry up and eat. I don’t want you to miss the bus,” my mother told us anxiously.

Now right now, you may be thinking my mother is a single parent. But you would be wrong. My father would usually be gone at work by the time we kids had to leave for school. This morning was no different.

HONK HONK!

“That’s the bus, Mom! We gotta go!” Will said, grabbing his bag off the back of his seat. “Come on, Al!”

“I haven’t eaten yet!” I whined.

“You’re only gonna be there for three hours. You can eat when you get home. Mom!”

“Will’s right, Al. Go on,” my mother told me. As we ran out the door, she called, “Look after your brother, Will!”

Will rolled his eyes as we ran towards the yellow school bus. “It’s school, not prison. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

Will was going into the second grade that year and so, in my eyes, was the epitome of cool. In reality, he was just an average seven-year old.

The bus ride was short and I sat in the front with the other kindergarteners. And when we arrived, a woman, who I later learned was our teacher, came onto the bus and called a few names off a list, of which, my name was included. “If I said your name, please follow me.”

I excitedly hopped off the bus and quickly followed the woman into a classroom full of little desks and matching chairs. As I was looking around the room, stimulation overload for my five year-old brain, the woman came up to me and asked me, “And what’s your name?”

“Alex!” I told her. “Alex Grayson!”

“Okay,” she laughed. And she helped me find my assigned seat.

Once we all were seated, she called everyone’s attention. But before she could say anything, another woman came in. This new woman was holding the arm of a boy about my age. “Ms. Vera? I think one of your students got turned around in the hallway,” she said, looking down sternly at the small, disgruntled child, clad only in a pair of overalls and some hiking boots. “This,” she indicated the boy, “is Jack Harlem. I believe he belongs with your class?”

Ms. Vera checked her clipboard. After a second, she replied, “Ah, yes! John Harlem Jr.!” Then, she added, “I’m so sorry, Principal Jennings. He must have wandered off while I was leading the children to the classroom.”

“It’s alright. I’ve got to go now.” She directed her attention to Jack, “I assume you’ll be good for your teacher?”

“Yeah, you assume that,” Jack quipped.

“Excuse me? Young man, that attitude will not fly at this school. Do you understand me?” Principal Jennings asked.

“Yeeaahh,” Jack whined, trying to free his arm.

“He’s all yours, Ms. Vera. If you have any problems with his behavior or otherwise, just send him down to my office,” Principal Jennings said.

“Thank you, ma’am, but I’m sure we’ll be fine.” After the principal had left, Ms. Vera showed Jack his assigned seat, which, due to alphabetical order, was right behind me. That was when she said to me, “Alex, why don’t you introduce yourself to Jack? I’m sure the two of you will be great friends!” I didn’t know it at the time, but now I’ve come to realize she said this to me only because she thought I’d be a good influence on Jack. And because Jack was in need of a friend.

Nonetheless, I nodded excitedly and said to her, “Okay, Ms. Vera!” She walked away and I turned around in my seat. “Hi! I’m Alex Grayson! I’m five! I have a brother and a sister and a mom and a dad! What about you?”

I remember his reaction very clearly. It was a mixture of surprise and amusement, with a touch of sadness, though I didn’t know why at this point in time. He replied, “Jack Harlem. I’m five...” At this point, he trailed off.

So, then, after a short awkward silence, I changed the subject. “You wanna be friends?”

He looked skeptical. “You wanna be friends with me? You don’t even know me.”

“I know you’re Jack and you’re five. What more do I need to know?”

That made him smile and he said to me, “Sure. We can be friends.”

That day, we stuck together through all the instructions and rules and lectures about what kindergarten would be like. We told jokes and played the hand slap game and laughed until, eventually, Ms. Vera told us to line up at the door and that kindergarten was over for that day and it was time to go home.

Everyone was happy because, while they had fun at kindergarten, they missed their parents and were ready to go home and eat lunch. Everyone was happy, that is, except for Jack.

After we got on the bus, sat next to each other, and the bus started moving, Jack apprehensively asked me, “Can I come to your house today?”

I answered offhandedly, “I don’t think so.”

“Oh,” Jack said dejectedly.

When my obtuse five-year old self realized my answer made him sad, I clarified, “I have to ask my mom if it’s okay before I invite anyone over. But I’ll ask her tonight if you can come over tomorrow.” Big mistake on my part.

“Okay. Yeah, sure,” Jack said dismissively.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, fine. This is my stop. I gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow, Alex, okay?” he told me.

“Okay,” I said back a little uneasily.

That night, I went home and ate lunch, waited for Will to get home, then went to the park for a couple hours, then came home, ate dinner, watched some TV, took a bath, and went to bed at eight thirty. Let’s just say, Jack did not.

Tags: Sad, Humor, Depressing, Hope, Dark,