The hustle and bustle of Central
Park united in a slow motion hum and just as the woman came close enough to
realize what was going on and fill her lungs with air to scream, time stopped
completely. Colin stood there at that
moment alone and frozen with the rest, hands clawed, confusion on his face but
clarity in his eyes, and destruction cold and waiting gripped in his thin
fingers. It had built to this moment
slowly, they had pushed him and hit him, made fun of him and called him names,
they had picked on him and had done all but destroy him.
They
spotted him again after school and when their eyes met he ran as fast as he
could. His books strapped together in a
belt dragging and bouncing down the sidewalk on 67th Street until he
flung them down an alley by some trash cans just before he hit Eighth
Avenue. Colin darted across the street
into the traffic oblivious to the oncoming cars, horns, and screeching of
brakes that formed and orchestra of panic around him. Martin, Tommy, and Lance gave pause at the
noise and congestion that had formed giving Colin a little more time to make it
through to the Tavern and into the park.
Martin, the largest of the three looked at his two cohorts and after
looking at Lance and seeing the hesitation gave him a hard shove and ran into
the halted traffic. Tommy turned and
socked Lance in the shoulder and then took off after Martin towards the park.
Out
of the Tavern and into Sheep Meadow Colin ran turning a hard left and feeling
the burn in his legs as he darted out through the green and into the open. He gained ground but by the time Martin and
Tommy emerged into the Meadow he was exposed and spotted easily. Up the Meadow and through Cherry Hill they
ran with Martin and Tommy slowly gaining ground until finally they caught him
just before Bow Bridge. Martin lunged
with Tommy close behind and clipped Colin’s feet sending him sprawling and
tumbling across the grass and onto the sidewalk before the bridge. Tommy caught up and grabbed Colin by the
shirt hoisting him upward and punching him soundly in the chest knocking the
wind out of him and crumpling him back down to the ground.
Martin
was up and drug Colin back to his feet and over to the bridge. Tears streamed down Colin’s face as they
hoisted him up and onto the railing of the bridge. He looked up at them and sniffled. “Why?” he asked quietly. Martin laughed and pushed Colin into
nothingness. He hit the water hard, head
over heels into the freezing lake that was still seeking warmth from the early
spring sun. It shocked his system and
drowned out his tears. He stayed down in
the cold blackness until his body found itself again and pulled for the
surface. When he broke the water and gasped
for air the boys were gone. He looked
around and the bridge was empty, for as busy and full of life as the park was,
there was nobody around, nobody to help, nobody to care.
He
swam toward the bush-lined shore and crawled his way up. Through the mud and into a clearing he sat
down shivering, pulling his legs tight to his chest and burying his head in his
knees. He didn’t understand what he did,
he didn’t understand why they picked on him, what he ever did to deserve
this. He was quiet, he kept to himself,
didn’t bother anybody or have any friends to speak of, spent most of his time
reading and writing and drawing. Martin
and Tommy had never even noticed him before, but this year they came back from
summer vacation bigger than most kids and mean.
All year they had picked on him, all year they had made breaking him
their special project.
He
finally stood, anger coursing through his veins. Colin wanted to scream, he wanted to yell, he
wanted to break something. He found a
pile of rocks and grabbed one, turned, and threw it as hard as he could into
the lake. Another, then another, one
more, and then…and then he stopped cold, arm trapped mid-throw. He glanced back at his arched arm and traced
the shape and the ridges, the safety lever, and the pin that kept the whole
world from exploding around him. Colin
looked around quickly and withdrew his prize from the open and buried it with
both hands into his chest. He walked
back through the park dripping, with his bravery hidden under his shirt to
retrieve his books and make his way home.
In
his bedroom with his prize hidden safely under his pillow, he slept peacefully
for the first time all year with dreams of being able to live quietly again.
The
morning came quickly but the day drug on.
He held his prize close all day and it made him feel safe, it made him
feel protected, it made him feel secure.
That day, school ended like it had every other day that year. Their eyes met outside of the school and he
turned and ran, down 67th street and through Eighth Avenue, the
squeal of brakes, the sound of horns, they were closer this time and it
happened.
Louder than the
horns and the screeching of tires, stopping him cold, spinning him around as
soon as his feet hit the curb on the other side was the dull wet thud of skin
and bones on metal. Colin turned as
Tommy’s limp body flew through the air and he landed unnaturally like a broken
wet rag doll in the middle of the street.
The screams came from inside the cars on the road but the loudest was
Martin, running to Tommy’s side and lifting him from the pavement, Tommy’s neck
cracking sickeningly as his head hung back on his shoulders grotesquely. Colin’s eyes shifted from the horror to
Lance, still on the curb across the street with a large wet spot forming on the
front of his pants and a vacant look on his face.
Colin ran. Out of the Tavern and into Sheep Meadow Colin
ran turning a hard left and feeling the burn in his legs as he darted out
through the green and into the open. Up
the Meadow and into Cherry Hill he kept hearing it, every time he blinked he
kept seeing it. Tommy’s body, Martin’s screams,
Lance’s numbness. It seared in his brain,
overwhelmed his senses. He slowed
through Cherry Hill until he came to a stop.
He looked around at the trees that surrounded him, the pink flowers emerging
in the cool spring air. It all looked
like death.
The hustle and
bustle of Central Park united in a slow motion hum and just as the woman came
close enough to realize what was going on and fill her lungs with air to
scream, time stopped completely. Colin
stood there at that moment alone and frozen with the rest, hands clawed,
confusion on his face but clarity in his eyes, and destruction cold and waiting
gripped in his thin fingers.
The pin hit the
ground. The safety pin ejected into the
air. The screams came and tears streamed
down Colin’s face. He looked up at the
sky between the cherry blossoms and sniffled.
“Why?” he asked quietly.
(Photo: Diane Arbus - Boy with toy hand grenade, Central Park 1962)
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