cadence
in a quiet garden
joey could remember the first time he was slapped.
he was five years old, bright crayola markers in each of his hands as he scribbled on the dusty pink walls of their trailer. his dad was in the living room watching the sunday game; he knew because he always yelled louder than the tv when he was watching football. joey never knew why he always watched the game when it made him so angry but he learned to be thankful for those rare moments of peace. when he was yelling at glass instead of him or his mom for once.
his mom was the first once to see his drawings on the wall; drawings of his whole family standing under an out-of-order rainbow. she smiled, at first. she told him it was such a good drawing but that he should use paper next time. he could remember crying when she left to get a rag, wiping away his picture that he worked so proud of. his crying must have interrupted the game because his dad walked in next, already angry at him for crying but even angrier when he saw the half-erased drawing on the wall. he grabbed his wrist and pried the markers from his hands, slapping him on the cheek with all his might.
it was the first slap of hundreds. he got used to it after a while. he learned to duck away when his dad raised his fist; to protect his face. he was used to it. joey, however, was not expecting nina to slap him. he sees her hand in the air before he can move away; all he can do is flinch. her slap is nothing compared to what he's used to but it hurts nonetheless. he brings a hand to his cheek immediately, cringing at how it already feels hot to touch. the way it burns and stings in the way he's used to.
he knows he went too far. he knows he deserved the slap. but then nina is speaking again and she slams into his shoulder and joey is pissed. "what the fuck?" he shouts, his voice shaky as though he'd been crying even though he hadn't. he threw his empty cup in the sand and began to follow her, determined to finish the fight she had started.
he managed to walk a couple of feet before someone's hand was on his chest, stopping him in his place. "bad idea, bro," said the voice joey recognized as some snob from his second period class. he doesn't argue, though. nina's not worth the fight, he tells himself. he grabs the hand by the wrist before shoving it away from him, running a frustrated hand through his hair before ultimately turning on his heels, taking a seat on the driftwood log beside Skylar.
"stop staring," is all he says to him, almost pleading. he can see the way skylar is looking at him, demanding some sort of explanation. he didn't have a reasonable excuse and he sure as hell didn't want to talk about his feelings. he and skylar had never had one deep conversation between them and joey liked it that way. he exhales, the feeling of guilt and regret and anger all crashing into him at once. he buries his head into his hands, his blunt still pressed between two fingers and his thumb unconsciously rubbing against the handprint-shaped mark on his cheek. he rubs his eyes, already tired of this goddamn night.
he was five years old, bright crayola markers in each of his hands as he scribbled on the dusty pink walls of their trailer. his dad was in the living room watching the sunday game; he knew because he always yelled louder than the tv when he was watching football. joey never knew why he always watched the game when it made him so angry but he learned to be thankful for those rare moments of peace. when he was yelling at glass instead of him or his mom for once.
his mom was the first once to see his drawings on the wall; drawings of his whole family standing under an out-of-order rainbow. she smiled, at first. she told him it was such a good drawing but that he should use paper next time. he could remember crying when she left to get a rag, wiping away his picture that he worked so proud of. his crying must have interrupted the game because his dad walked in next, already angry at him for crying but even angrier when he saw the half-erased drawing on the wall. he grabbed his wrist and pried the markers from his hands, slapping him on the cheek with all his might.
it was the first slap of hundreds. he got used to it after a while. he learned to duck away when his dad raised his fist; to protect his face. he was used to it. joey, however, was not expecting nina to slap him. he sees her hand in the air before he can move away; all he can do is flinch. her slap is nothing compared to what he's used to but it hurts nonetheless. he brings a hand to his cheek immediately, cringing at how it already feels hot to touch. the way it burns and stings in the way he's used to.
he knows he went too far. he knows he deserved the slap. but then nina is speaking again and she slams into his shoulder and joey is pissed. "what the fuck?" he shouts, his voice shaky as though he'd been crying even though he hadn't. he threw his empty cup in the sand and began to follow her, determined to finish the fight she had started.
he managed to walk a couple of feet before someone's hand was on his chest, stopping him in his place. "bad idea, bro," said the voice joey recognized as some snob from his second period class. he doesn't argue, though. nina's not worth the fight, he tells himself. he grabs the hand by the wrist before shoving it away from him, running a frustrated hand through his hair before ultimately turning on his heels, taking a seat on the driftwood log beside Skylar.
"stop staring," is all he says to him, almost pleading. he can see the way skylar is looking at him, demanding some sort of explanation. he didn't have a reasonable excuse and he sure as hell didn't want to talk about his feelings. he and skylar had never had one deep conversation between them and joey liked it that way. he exhales, the feeling of guilt and regret and anger all crashing into him at once. he buries his head into his hands, his blunt still pressed between two fingers and his thumb unconsciously rubbing against the handprint-shaped mark on his cheek. he rubs his eyes, already tired of this goddamn night.
JOEY MORRISON
coded by weldherwings.
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