Memory

So there I was, standing quite naked in the midst of my shower, when I was hit by a memory. I'm not entirely sure what had sparked the memory. It was just after Chapel, I was skipping my Ethical Reasoning class (I had a good reason) and I hadn't showered yet, so I went to clean myself. The Chapel sermon was led by our fair president who said many things that made a lot of sense, none of which I am able to remember the next day.

Suddenly, my mind transported me back to a place where I haven't been for a long time. It was one of those memories that you weren't aware was actually a memory until you think of it for the first time since the event actually happened. Most of the time, your memories happen over and over, you rethink the same situations over in your mind. Perhaps because you keep going over exactly what is was that you said to insult your mother. Or maybe you just didn't want to forget exactly what it felt to be kissed for the first time. Then again, sometimes traumatic things happen and you can't help but think of that single instant every time you get too close to someone.

This was not one of those memories. Perhaps traumatic, which is why I'm still able to think of it, but this is, to my memory, the first time that I've thought of it since it happened.

When I was 9.

My friend James and I were out behind the church on a Sunday afternoon. It was a beautiful day out, right in the middle of spring. We were meandering through this small, well kept lawn that is sandwhiched between the back of the church and the fence keeping us from entering into townhouse backyards. James and I decided it would be a terrific idea to throw some rocks across the road that ran alongside the church. We started digging around the bottom of the hedges that were shapped into a cross, well, if you looked at them from the roof of the church or whatever. We got some good rocks, found some more in the ditch next to the road, and started chucking them into the field on the other side of the road. James would've been about 10 then. Eventually even this proved tiresome, even though we had to make sure that we only threw them when there were no cars on this semi-busy road.

So we didn't wait for the cars to be gone. We started trying to get them across as soon as a car would pass. I figured I could time it well enough so that I could throw a rock as a car would pass but before the next, which was right behind it. This was more challenging, so I had some fun with it. Suddenly I realized I was playing this game alone. I looked back down this green exterior hallway and saw James running for the end of the building.

"Where you going?" I shouted after him.

He made no reply, just turned and pointed to the road that my back was now facing.

So I looked where he pointed, and suddenly running away seemed like a very good idea. A huge (probably teenage) guy and some girl were coming after us. I just now realized that a vehicle had stopped and was parked right next to where we were throwing rocks. So I ran, following James. I looked back and was relieved to see the guy run away from me, but the girl was chasing me. I knew I could outrun her - she was a girl. The guy, on the other hand, was fast, but he was going around the other way. I hoped I could make it all the way around the church before he did.

So I ran, and I ran.

I turned the corner at the end of the hallway and ran towards the next corner. I saw James ahead of me, he had made it to that corner, but instead of turning into the closest door he was going for the main entrance. He hadn't realized the guy was going the other way around. As soon as I got the corner I could see what was happening in the parking lot. When I saw, my body froze.

The teenage guy was faster than us. James was trying to dodge his grasp, but was running out of room. He was close to the big yellow school bus that I had yet to be on. The one the youth kids sometimes disappeared on. The guy grabbed James by the front of the shirt, forcing him back a few steps.

Slam.

James' body was hit up against the body of the church bus.

My body was unfrozen.

I turned and dashed for the door, practically feeling the claws of the girlfriend around my neck. Safety, for both of us, lay within. I fumbled with the door handle. Bloody thing wasn't opening. Open. Open. Open. OPEN!

It opened.

I ran down the carpeted hallway and into the closest gym entrance. Safety, for both of us, lay within. This door opened easily enough, and a wave of chaotic mennonite noise washed over my ears. They were happy. They were joyful. They were smiling. How can they do this while James is dying outside, being slammed against metal, having his body broken, forcing tears from his eyes. How can they wait?

Then, salvation itself was spotted. My dad.

I dashed past mothers and daughters, dodging what used to be neatly placed tablesettings, now reduced to grape juice stained wrinkled sheets lying ontop cheap round tables. My dad. Sitting with six other men in a circle of flimsy wooden and compromised metal chairs. All these men. All these saviors, sitting together. This, was heaven.

"He's getting hurt!" I shriked, I screamed, I yelled, I cried.

I was assured, I was told to calm down, I was told to repeat myself.

"James. Is outside, and some GUY is HURTING HIM"

James' dad was first to move. Then mine. My dad moved faster, towards the front entrance. Where James had wanted to go. The other four men stood to move as well. I went back the way I came. I felt safe. One was following me. My dad was on the move. It was all going to be ok. But I was still tense. How was James to be saved?

I ran back out the door I came in while my father exited the other one. I ran towards the front doors to watch the scene from behind some parked cars. I didn't want him to see me.

James was crying. James was being half dragged towards the front entrance by his shirt collar by some man of no compassion. Some beast. Someone that didn't understand. The injustice of this act. For what reason were we being chased? Why were we being hurt? My dad walked out the doors towards the guy dragging James. The tides turned.

My dad's hands lunged out, grasping for the collar of the man holding the collar. Irony. One man dwarfing one boy, suddenly dwarfed by another man. By a real man. Words exchanged. James was released, I felt guilty, though I knew not why.

The memory ends.

Later on, I would sit down with my dad and he would explain what happened. The guy was worried about his car, thought that James and I hit it with rocks. We hadn't. We were warned to not throw rocks across the road again. I haven't. My dad got a look in his eyes when he finished this part. He looked at me and said that he shouldn't have gotten physical with that guy. He wasn't a fighter anymore.

Not anymore.

He was once.

But not anymore.

Yet, he was still my savior. And continues to be. And will always be.