He was 11, I was 12.
The kids on the block called him a whiner, a big baby, what have you.
Light blonde hair, big blue eyes, he was taller than most kids, and had a huge smile.
I remember his father very well. He was an alcoholic that probably has skin cancer now because he fried himself every summer by sitting outside by the pool. When he got drunk he would get angry at this boy. I remember as a small girl we were playing outside and he didn’t do the chores his father asked him to. It was only afternoon time and he was already wasted. I watched as he lifted the boy off his feet by his neck and threw him to the ground like a rag doll. I didn’t know what to do, I panicked so I went to help him up and make sure he was ok. The father screamed at me to go home. I did as I was told. I cried walking home down the street for I feared for him.
That boy began to get angry very easily and would fight with other kids on the block almost everyday. We started to hang out everyday and I ended up having the biggest crush on him, just like any young girl would have. He was my first kiss, the first boy I ever like at all actually.
One summer day we all went to another kid’s house. His name was Tim. He was an asshole of a kid, dirty as hell, and always had something smart to say. For some reason he hated the boy I liked and made fun of him constantly. We had all snuck in his house and were smoking the butts of cigarettes that his parents left in the ash tray. My boy and Tim started arguing, just like every other time. The boy then went in the other room and came out with a rifle, all of us froze…
He pointed the gun at the face of the boy. I’ll never forget his words “I’m gonna fucking shoot you, how bout that?!”The boy covered his face and turned just as Tim pulled the trigger, sending a bullet through his hand skinning his face, blowing off his ear, and coming out the back of his head. The boy ran as he grabbed his head that was gushing blood. He jumped down a flight of stairs before running out front and collapsing on the front lawn. A mutual friend Kyle ripped off his shirt to put pressure on the wound as the boy cried in agony. Another boy Andrew wrestled down Tim, and the police were called. As the police came rushing, with an ambulance not far behind, there were video cameras and news anchors taping as they rushed him into the ambulance.
He was in the hospital for 5 months and didn’t full recover until a year afterword. The bullet missed his brain by only a few centimeters. He was lucky to be alive. I went to the hospital, I saw his father weeping. The man who had beaten his son when he was drunk and angry was crying because his son almost died. I saw that man and his wife this morning while I stopped to get my regular cup of coffee before work. His father has been sober since the day that happened.
As I stood talking to the boys parents this morning I looked to my right as he came walking out the door. It was him, his name is Brent, but everyone always calls him Buddy. Buddy walked out and said “what is this? A family reunion?! Wheres my invite?” The boy who was almost killed walked out, his head held high, that big smile that I remember so clearly, he was handsome, and had the kindest look in his eyes. He greeted me with a big hug. His hand still scarred, as well as his ear and neck. But, that small boy (Buddy) has grown up and is loving life more than ever.
If he can, shouldn’t we all?
edlives
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