Where Childhood Meets Adulthood

The torture of childhood doesn't matter anymore. Get over it.

The past has a certain way of coming back and biting you in the a*s. Hard. I was never one to hold a grudge, but some things aren’t so easily erased by time. It was career day. I was with my daughter, Eliza, sitting in one of the too-small chairs in front of the students. He was speaking.

“So, that’s pretty much what it’s like to be in the army,” he finished. “Any questions?”

He was perfect. Happy and healthy, and just perfect. I hated his happiness. A child raised his hand.

“Do you get to hold guns?” he asked.

The perfect man laughed. “Sometimes.”

“Okay, that’s it for Quincy’s father,” the teacher said, hoping her students wouldn’t ask any similar questions. She led the class in applause and he sat down. “Next up is Eliza’s mother.”

I stood and they clapped again. I bet they were just ecstatic to hear my adventures in the free clinic. I told my story and my schedule. There were no questions. They just sat with their heads on their desks. I think I did well. I left after the last of the parents spoke.

“Hey, Kris.”

It was him. Why him?

“Hello, Jeremy,” I said, feigning a smile.

We stood in the cramped hallway. I stayed as far as possible from him. I’m sure he noticed.

“You look…good,” he continued, feeling uncomfortable.

He didn’t forget. Neither of us did.

“So do you.”

We were quiet. What else were we supposed to say?

“Uh…I know we didn’t really part on good terms,” Jeremy said. “So, I uh…just want to apologize.”

Another false smile. “It was years ago. I’m surprised you even remember.”

I wasn’t surprised. I was hoping he’d remember and feel pitiful. I hoped he had years of therapy like I did. I’m just immature like that.

“Well, I do remember,” he said and sighed. “I was a horrible person. Walk with me?”

I nodded and we walked out of the school. It was a small town with nice people. Well, mostly nice people. We strolled next to the small shops that lined the streets.

“What is it like in the military during war?” I asked for friendly conversation. I didn’t know why, but I just hated awkwardness.

“I think I said that when I presented,” he said.

“The uncensored version.”

He sighed. “Hard. It’s different when you’re on the frontlines. There’s more fear, and definitely more loneliness. It’s something you wouldn’t understand unless you were there.”

His pain showed and I felt some empathy. Only some. I still couldn’t forgive him and war didn’t change that.

“What is it like working in the free clinic?” Jeremy asked. He smiled. “The uncensored version.”

“Hard.”

He laughed. Apparently he didn’t realize how much I hate him. I’ve held a grudge for twenty years, there is no way I was going to change because he seemed like a better person.

“Listen, I know you apologized but…I don’t think I can forgive you so easily,” I said. I was pathetic. He obviously seen things he shouldn’t have, and probably has a wonderful wife and child. He grew, and I was wishing he would have ended up on the bottom of the social food chain. I always wished most of my childhood enemies would end up worse than me. It never worked out.

He understood and nodded. “I did give you a lot of crap.”

“Enough to get me in therapy,” I said. I stopped by one of my favorite shops as a child. I used to go there to buy dolls. “But you weren‘t the only one who gave me crap.”

Jeremy looked at the store guiltily. He remembered. Years ago, he left me alone right in this spot. I was six years old and I had gone to the store with him. I trusted him. He left me. I cried as I walked home alone.

“You do realize I was only a kid,” he said. He laughed miserably. “That still doesn’t take away everything, huh.”

I shook my head. He was good at leaving me. In the woods, in the street, anywhere we went, he always disappeared. I finally left him after learning my lesson and I never trusted him again. He wasn’t the only one, though. There were other children. They hated me, and I didn’t know why. I must have done something, but I didn’t remember. I guess I repressed those memories.

“Those kids were jackasses,” Jeremy told me. “I was still friends with them, though. To tell you the truth, we enjoyed torturing you.”

Children are just screwed up, I thought. They get their kicks out of hurting other kids. And for what? Where did it get them? Apparently, for Jeremy, the military. I thought of our children. Were they the same?

“I could tell,” was all I said. “Just one question. What made me the target?”

He shrugged. “You were small, new and alone. You just moved from another state, so you seemed to be the easiest mark.”

Yes, children are screwed up. It was hard to imagine I was one before. I was so ignorant, thinking it was normal for people to treat me that way. The fights, the teasing, and the overall crapiness of my childhood. It all seemed normal.

“You know what. I forgive you.”

Jeremy looked at me. “Why?”

“Because we were idiots.”

It was true. We didn’t know better. We were trapped in our little world called childhood and trying to enjoy it as much as possible. We were idiots, vying to make it to full-grown adults. It took a lot of time.

“You’re damn right,” he said. “Thanks.”

We parted ways. I’d never see him again. That was okay. I didn’t really care about him. I had a good life, a wonderful family, and most of all, my sanity. I didn’t need any bull from my childhood. I just had to get over it. When Eliza came home, I asked her.

“Are the kids treating you good?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “I have a new friend! Her name’s Gabby!”

I smiled. “Good.”

Yes, it was all good. I looked at my husband, and thought of my past. Those children can have their happiness. I had mine, after all. I didn’t care about them anymore. I lived and that’s all that mattered.

Author's Note

Part of this I took from my own childhood. If you find any spelling or grammar mistakes, just tell me. Also, tell me if you like the writing style. It's a little different than how I usually write. Tell me if there's anything I should add.

Reviews

[thecoolone52]

i wish you woulda kicked the army guy's a*s in the story........ haha i know that kinda sounds immature but i think it would of been entertaining............. thanks for entering my contest.............. it was a decent piece but theres 2 many good writings........ your prob not gona place.......... haha im such a dick........ anyway nice write

[Dustin Chang]

Old grudges don't die eh? I enjoyed it. Come to think of it, I wasn't on the receiving end, bulling I mean, when I was little. It's very regretful that someone might still hold grudges against me after all these years. Not a happy childhood I had but it goes same for most of people I know though. I don't even hold my parents responsible. Part of the growing up no? Or am I oversimplifying things? Your writing feels real and honest. Want to check out your usual writing style now. No spelling mistakes as far as I can tell. There is a period missing after: "I always wished most of my childhood enemies would end up worse than me. It never worked out"