Storied Life: Steve

He loved a good bridge. Not the metal structures, which allowed cars to travel from one bank to the other, but in music, those breaks in the melodies, which play with the motifs of a song, heighten your expectations a drop you off somewhere different. These are the places where you could drop a guitar solo, or play in ranges that did not belong in the rest of the song. Inside of a bridge is a mystery and a journey. They are not nearly as enjoyable when they happen in life.

He was looking forward to the birth of his sister, at least as much as fifteen year old does. He already had a brother, but this would be different, but because she was a sister and the distance in years between them. He remembered contemplating what it would be like, in his bedroom in Idaho. That seemed like a different life now, a place he knew was gone. Tinted with sadness.

Susie had been born and it was like the melody of his life completely changed. It was as if someone punctured the container that held all the color and it drained onto the floor. The excitement about his sister was completely replaced, when he learned his mother would not be coming home. She, with the emotions and chemicals flooding her from childbirth, was loosing her battle with depression. It wasn't exactly clear, but it sounded like she intended to hurt herself. His mom could hurt herself and he had a new little sister. The room he used to be able to feel safe in, was invaded with conflicting thought.

He came up for air, ready to get back to a normal life. Steve's dad explained to him what needed to happen next. Over a bare table, the Air Force captain looked serious and thoughtful. His eyes looked sad. He explained he couldn't watch Steve or his brother here in Idaho, so they would be going to their grandparents in Colorado. It was crap. Steve could let himself into the house, make dinner, he could stay home and get his stuff done. They could stay together. He said none of this. There was no point. Additionally, his new sister would not be going with them, she would stay in Idaho while his dad finished out his commission. It was just for a few months.

The months came and went and were not all bad. Steve missed his mom and dad, but he managed OK. His mother was better and the family was reunited, but something had happened. The color did not return. His Mom would yell at his Dad and his dad would plead with her. They both seemed to want their lives back, but didn't know how to get there for where they were. Then, after Steve heard the echoing voices through the vent stop, would wait. Would it be his Mom, telling him how his Dad lacked ambition, how they would never return to England, or would it be his Dad telling him he was unhappy about being yelled at all the time, tired of this new ultra-demanding woman. If they were preparing him for a divorce, he wished they would get to it already.

Even though Steve was only a teenager, he knew his place. Keep the damage to a minimum. He listened to his parents and tried to console them, playing the councilor. When his mom was demanding he worked hard to meet her demands, to please her ever escalating requirements. When his dad commented on the craziness of what was being asked of them. Steve agreed. No waves. Waves kept you from getting back to normal.

When his dad walked out of his room, Steve thought about the party he would go to. Others there would be drinking or maybe doing drugs. He didn't need any of that, it was enough for him to not be home. He just needed to be out of everything. Needed the pressure to stop.

He slid the headphones over his ears and waited to the moment he could leave. He closed his eyes and listened, "Don't open your eyes, you won't like what you see. The devils of truth steal the souls of the free...". The bridge is all beatings and torture.