Page 15 of The Breaking Pointe

stuck in time

COLTON

When I’m not eating a meal at my mother’s, she’ll have another distinct reason that she’ll call me. It could be picking up some groceries or a smaller task—the sanest excuse she can whip up. That is, if I’m not there just to exist in her presence.

This time, I’m here to try and fix a pipe underneath her sink. For the fourth or maybe even fifth time this year. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have any knowledge of what I’m doing, since I never have to do this for anyone. I also refuse to pay some guy to sit on her floor with his ass-crack out for a few hours. It’s taken me a few hours now myself, but my guess is that she can’t refrain from letting random objects fall down the drain. Something I’ve stressed to her, harder than anything else I might comment about.

However, I don’t mind helping her at all. It’s not like I have anything else I need to be doing.

But recently, she’s been so needy for me to be around that it’s a little concerning.

Her favorite complaints are always that I work too much, I won’t settle down. Or she’ll get really personal and tell me that I need to take my artistry more seriously or commit to boxing like I mean it. Otherwise, I’m going to live with regrets, and she would rather me have a life filled with butterflies and rainbows. I’m waiting for her to realize that my brain has been rewiring itself for years. I haven’t felt a perky bone in my body in forever, and my mental hasn’t seen the light of day since I was a kid. The last time I had a genuine smile was—well, Noelle, really. That’s more like the first time in forever.

I can manage with my mother being overbearing about any- thing she wants, as long as it doesn’t compare me to my father. It’s a line I’ve drawn a million times, yet my other family members still find a way to bring it up. Whether it be my hair, my build, or my career, I don’t wanna be compared to someone who valued a certain way of living over his time with his family. Then ended it all in front of the one who looked up to him the most. I’ll never be convinced that someone is as amazing as I believed he was ever again. Without the skills and forgiveness, he left my mom and me with so many issues. So many she could never get with a man afterward.

In the beginning, I thought she hated the idea of me boxing, only because she worries I might develop an addiction just like him. Doesn’t have to be painkillers or steroids. But in my case, something else. The thing that’ll take me out is my depressive episodes and manic breakdowns. Which may be hard to believe for her, but I’ve had every option to try everything under the sun when Trey isn’t around. I’ve declined every last thing.

Alcohol might be my only deal breaker. When things get tough, I might have a drink. But when I have a drink, I get emotional. You can probably guess what happens next, so beer is the best to go to. All in all, I hate the way it makes me feel. It’s the aftermath that always has me so torn. It took me almost two days to recover just from downing a few glasses of wine with Noelle, that I stupidly topped off with a bunch of beer. I’m glad she was thrilled enough to do most of the damage. The Canadian one was almost so sweet I could throw up.

“Colton, I’m talking to you,”

my mom says, interrupting my thoughts from above the sink.

“What’s up? Sorry.”

I peek out at her.

“What’s got you so distracted? You’ve barely said anything to me since you got here.”

She laughs.

I use the wrench I had in my hand to tighten one last bolt before scooting from underneath the sink, looking up at my mom. The only time she can ever get close to being taller than me.

“It’s nothing. I just had a weird couple of days, that’s all,”

I state, shrugging as I lift myself from the floor.

“Well, what does this weird couple of days involve?”

“Mom, it’s nothing.”

She raises an eyebrow, examining me for a moment before sending me a collusive smile. She then taps her finger on my neck, pressing against a minuscule bruise that Noelle had gifted me.

“What? Don’t look at me like that. Why are you doing that?”

I furrow my eyebrows, looking back at her as I cover my neck with one hand.

“Who is she?”

“Okay, no—we’re not doing this.”

I put my hands up, laugh- ing.

She’s never scared to get straight to the point.

My mom is the kind of parent who always wants to know everything. Who the woman is, what she does—even down to if I wanna marry her. The answer is usually me saying no in multiple styles, just so she can stop talking about it. This time I truly had no answer. Noelle had left me on read, ignored several of my calls, and basically ghosted me in a matter of two weeks”

Aw, but, Cole, I just wanna know, please? A little hint? Did she come over? Did you go on a date?”

she begs me, causing me

to laugh more.

“No, no. Nothing crazy happened.”

I chuckle.

The last thing I’m telling her is how I had sex with a woman in my living room. She’s insane if she thinks I’m giving any details about that.

She points at me”

You’re a bad liar, Cole. But if you say that nothing crazy happened? Then sure.”

I sigh, smiling as I shake my head”

Anyways, can you stop dropping things down the sink, please and thank you?”

She looks at the sink and then at me.

“It’s from cooking, I really swear it is—look, before you go, honey, we need to talk.”

Talk? Talks are for problems. Dear God, what now?

“Talk about what? What’s up?”

I ask, wiping my hands off on a dirty hand towel.

“It’s about me. And you and Steven.”

“Okay…”

I laugh nervously, dragging my words.

Her face resorts to a more serious expression, followed by her arms hugging herself.

“Oh, this is that kind of conversation,”

I say softly. She nods as her face fills with regret.

“Yeah. Um, Colton, I’m not doing okay, like—like health wise, if you will?”

My heart starts to beat harder. I don’t even want her to finish what I think she’s about to say. As a matter of fact, I know what she’s going to say. I want to be wrong, though. Just this once.

“Well, what is it? I can fix it,”

I say, shrugging.

“Oh…honey, I’m afraid this isn’t on the long list of things you can fix,”

she claims, placing her hand on my arm”

Let’s sit,”

she insists, trying to pull me to the dining table.

My eyes close slowly as I grab her arm back.

“What do you mean? Can you just say it? I need you to say it.”

She sighs, looking into the living room then at me, placing a hand on my cheek.

“I mean that I’m dying, Cole. I went to the doctor a few weeks ago.”

What in the actual fuck? I can’t open my eyes now. I am stuck in time. I have to be.

Going against my will, I open my eyes, looking down at her, finally breathing. The front door swings open, and Steven makes his way inside, holding an envelope. His laughs fill the house immediately, letting us know that he’s excited. Rushing, even. At the same time, my mom is struggling not to cry right in front of me.

“Hey, Colton, dude, I’m glad you’re here. I got something to tell you guys!”

he exclaims, closing the door.

He quickly shuffles over to us, taking the paper out of the envelope. But as he looks at both of us, he loses his excitement slowly.

“What’s wrong? Why do you both look like that?”

he asks seriously.

I look at my mom and then at the floor, clearing my throat”

Uh, why don’t you tell us what you’re so excited about, Steve,”

I say, forcing a smile on my face.

“Can you guys tell me? Please? You got all quiet when I came in.”

I look at my mom, her hand dropping from my face finally”

Your call,”

I say to her”

Just tell him…”

My mom sighs, remaining silent for a bit before looking at him”

I was telling Colton that I’m sick, honey. I wasn’t feeling okay, so I decided to go to the doctor.”

She glances at me for a second.

“I’ve been needing to talk to the both of you for a while—I just couldn’t find the courage. But the cancer isn’t getting better. I think it’s already too late,”

she whispers, pulling her sleeve to wipe her face.

She covers her face, burying it deep in her hands. I wrap an arm around her, pulling her close to me for a hug. Steven’s eyes are filled with horror. Like he’s looking at the most vile crime scene that anyone could ever imagine. The same look I got after my dad pretty much mutilated himself before my eyes.

“I just wanted to say that I got into NYU. I start in the fall…”

he says, setting the piece of mail on the counter before he spins his body around.

“Steven, wait, man,” I beg.

“Steven, I’m sorry, please,”

my mom adds to my pleading.

He marches along, speeding back to the front door and refusing to listen. Just as quickly as he was in the door, he leaves right back out, ignoring us. Ignoring the situation.

“I should’ve waited. I knew it,”

my mom weeps, stuffing her head in her hands again.

“Mom, don’t. There’s not a right time to tell your kids something like this. Ever,”

I say, attempting to comfort her as I hold her close to me.

“He can’t go very far, trust me. He’ll come back, don’t even worry about it,”

I say, kissing her head”

He just needs to process it, that’s all.”

I knew exactly how he felt: rage. What’s worse? It never gets any better when you become an adult. You just get more and more desperate for answers as to why life does these things. You’ll never get one, but it doesn’t matter. Life ultimately will go on, with or without you. It often sends me to wonder if that’s why my dad chose not to be sober through it all. He probably thought all the physical pills were easier to swallow than life’s theoretical ones.

It has to be one of the most defeating things to realize, growing up. Especially when you don’t have a choice. Nobody wants to be told to get over something that pains them to a point that it becomes physical. Or that maybe it’s whatever God is up there trying to throw challenges at you. One day, something happens and suddenly you realize, oh shit, life is real. But it’s always the hardest smack in the face. Nothing is gradual. One day ,you notice that you’ve been doing it for years, and you accept things for what they are. I have yet to do that part. I don’t want to, and I don’t want Steven to have to.

I never really imagined navigating the rest of my life without either of my parents around. Not at twenty-seven. I barely know who I am, let alone what the hell I’m even doing. Poor Steven is only freshly turning eighteen. It hurts to know that he’s somewhere flipping his shit. And I don’t blame him for doing so. I wish I knew what my dad would say in this situation. I wonder what he would do. I could take a guess.

He’d probably say, “Looks like we’re bringing the bucket list back from retirement,”

or something to that extent. And then my mom would laugh, and we would be okay for a moment.

Things will never be beautiful like that ever again. No running in the woods or playing in trees. Sadly, Steven will never really know about Dad—the good side, at least. Hell, he barely knows about the bad side, which is probably a good thing in and of itself. I try to only remember the good. Not the drunken, incoherent, yelling monster who came alive at night. Instead, I think of camping in our backyard. Sweet tea with eighty-degree weather at nine o’clock at night. Pretending to be pirates on an old stump, high in the sky. I’m on top. Everything else was underneath me. When you’re young, you truly know nothing.

* * *

The studio’s silence is loud. My grunts and fists jabbing the bag are the only things causing any kind of ruckus. I can never punch hard enough when I’m upset. I don’t know if I’m mad or hurt. Both? I’m scared, too. Maybe I’m everything and all of it, all at once. They say that it’s possible to feel multiple feelings simultaneously, I’m pretty sure.

My mouth closes as I use my nostrils for all of my air circu- lation instead, throwing my fists harder now. Pretending it’s all my problems wrapped up in one giant, stuffed dummy. I’m getting head high, feeling my blood rush to my ears now.

“Yo, Colton! Chill, the bag isn’t going anywhere!”

Trey’s voice echoes through the studio as he grabs my arm, drawing my attention.

I wasn’t expecting his presence at all, and my nerves are already shot. It’s not like he would know, but you can’t sneak up on someone who’s currently rage-punching an object.

I mean, it’s just common sense. Turning my body around, my arm swings back, flying toward Trey. He ducks his body quickly before stopping me completely. I yank my headphones out of my ears, looking at him with exasperation.

“Hey. Chill. What’s going on, you can’t announce yourself? I didn’t know you were coming, isn’t it an off day for you?”

he scoffs jokingly.

My chest repeatedly rises as I drop my arms, finally breathing out completely. I use my forearm to wipe my face, grumbling, “Don’t do that.”

He raises his eyebrows, looking at me harder now”

Something going on that I need to be aware of?”

“I’m fine,”

I say, now wiping my mouth of sweat, turning and walking to the bench to sit down where my water and towel are”

So, what made you come here at this time then? ‘Cause this

is pretty unlike you. Training when you know you have free time for yourself, at least,”

he points out.

Plopping down, I rest my head in my hands”

I’m fine. I’m just tired,”

I bristle, finding it hard to be calm now”

I wanted to blow off some steam.”

I can hear him walking over, and soon, I can see his shoes standing in front of me, fixing to sit down beside me. He sighs”

Not to be a nosy ass, but uh—that sounded like a little more than tired,”

he suggests, patting my back.

“Well, I’m not exactly good at explaining my feelings,”

I quietly confess.

“Don’t apologize to me. You wanna vent, then vent,”

he says. My hands drop, resting my elbows on my legs as I hang my head”

How does one find peace?”

I ask him, hearing the weariness

in my own voice.

I wasn’t expecting him to have an answer. I guess it’s a rhetorical question. But I wish there was an answer. Everything feels so loud sometimes.

The volume is slowly turning up as time goes on. Finally, it reaches its maximum capacity, and then everything feels too overwhelming to handle.

“I think you have to make it for yourself, bro. Nobody can do it for you,”

Trey chimes into the conversation again.

Wandering my eyes to him, my head follows as I fully look at him.

“I’m not happy, Trey. I’m tired. Not physically, but…mentally. I feel like I’m losing everything. I can’t seem to keep anything good in my life. It never stays, or sticks,” I lament”

My mom is sick—I have no idea what to do with Steven. He’s not even processing it, I don’t think,”

I add, pausing.

“And neither am I. Go figure. I’m being hypocritical to him. I’m just not good at this shit, Trey. I feel like I’m a lost kid. I have everything and nothing all at the same time.”

Trey sighs”

Look, Colton. That’s where you’re so wrong. Okay—it’s not about having everything or everyone. Or anyone,”

he gloats, firmly shaking my shoulder.

“It’s about having yourself, brother. As soon as you realize that part,”

he stands up, looking down at me now, “you will be fine. I promise.”

He smiles.

I sigh, looking down before standing up”

Yeah. Sure.”

I nod, still feeling defeated even though he made his point.

He is right, in a way. It’s just that I have felt alone so much recently, I’m starting to find words of comfort to be not as strong. But it’s different, knowing that he means what he says”

Now c’mon. You wanna get to work, or what? Let’s get it!”

He laughs, holding his fists up, squaring up with me, even bouncing a little.

Giving a half-suppressed laugh, I quickly get into my stance, holding my fists up, too, as we make our way back to the bag.

I have myself, but having myself doesn’t feel like enough. Not to me. To everyone else, I’m tough, or I have a good head on my shoulders. I’m not strong in other departments. In the departments that matter, I’m sensitive, insecure, and confused about a lot of things. My outsides don’t mean anything when everything around me is dying or leaving me hanging. Or when I have to pretend to continue to be someone I’m never gonna be okay with.

I’ve lived with a lot of guilt for leaving Steven behind with my mom. Sure, I take care of them however I can. But they each could have a better life. It wasn’t always happy for us. Mostly for my mom and me. I’m grateful to have made Steven’s path to adulthood nicer than mine was. It wasn’t really until I started working with Trey that things changed. Before that, I was just like anyone else. Or so I felt. I just didn’t get along with people. They didn’t like me. I was too smart, or too fat, or weird. The stereotypical bullying archetypes.

At home, I could be comfortable, but only for so long. My dad would have a drink. Then my mom. Then they would fight. Then it was my fault, and my mom was fighting to protect me. Next thing you know, he had violated her, and she’d go on pretending nothing happened the next day. She claimed she didn’t remember.

When I was old enough to get out, I left without the remorse I now hold onto. I was angry, desperate to get away. But by that time, my dad was already gone. I wouldn’t have left if it weren’t for him. I could never stay in that house after he did all those things. It’s why I bought my mother a new one and crushed the old one. It’s haunted me in a way that’s life altering. I don’t think we’ll ever know the exact time it started to eat at me, but I know that when I watched him put that gun to his head, I wasn’t going to be normal anymore.

I was coming home from school at thirteen. Just about to finish middle school.

I remember I had just gotten braces, and I couldn’t stand the pain. I needed some kind of relief, and I knew one of my parents would have an answer. My mom was at work, but Dad? He didn’t do that. So, he had been at home for the regular work hours of the day. That meant that he was in his office. Pretending to be the big wig that he once was. He would sit and re-watch his matches from his fighting days. Reminiscing and drinking. Never doing anything with his life that you could look back on and feel accomplished about.

I wanted to ask him where the medicine was. This stupid numbing gel that was supposed to make it better that had been prescribed. The year was 2007, so they were doing anything crazy to help with the pain. It was that or force a few over-the- counter pain pills down. And any pill that came through our front door never lasted more than two or three days. My mom’s way around that was buying anything but pill form or drowsy supplements. So you could speculate that being sick in our house was a living hell to endure.

The house was really quiet that day. When my mom wasn’t home with Steven yet, there were some days I would hang out with my dad until they’d get there.

That day, I had the normal plan. I came straight inside and walked around the house, calling around for my father before I noticed his office door was closed. At first, I gathered that it could’ve meant he was doing something that I had no business witnessing.

I was frightened, thinking of how I would’ve had to explain that to my mom.

Thinking about that, I stood outside of the door for what still seemed like it could’ve been hours, but it wasn’t. I wanted to see if I could hear him, but all I could hear was his television playing some tape.

After I contemplated enough, that’s when I decided I would be strong and open the door. Subjecting myself to my very own horror movie.

Trey’s way of thinking sounds morally correct. I thought about it all the way home, justifying what excuse I could think of to disagree, but I can’t discredit his opinion when it’s that genuine and true. Yet it’s hard to make yourself funnel your thinking enough to abide by a mindset like that when you’re juggling billions of issues. It reminds me that he’s my manager for a reason. I feel guilty being bigger than a handful, but I don’t want to confide in anyone else. I have trouble even with my therapist—who also says I should try to work on expressing myself better for the sake of defending myself in my relationships. It wasn’t in those words, but she toyed with my brain until I understood it as such.

I think I want to be with someone, just as much as I want to feel better because I’m tired of being alone. I’m possibly stuck in the moment with Noelle, but I felt something before the sex. A very different and fanatical feeling, leaving me with the agony of a cliffhanger. It’s already been almost two weeks of me fighting the urge to call her or text her any more than I have. I’m never one to give up on something I want. But she isn’t just something. She’s much more—and they say that if it’s meant to be, it will be.

So, that’s what I keep telling myself.

* * *

After my shower, I made sure to feed Bonnie, and then myself. I made a sandwich and got a bottle of water from the fridge.

Usually, when I’m off and I’m awake like this, I’m doing some form of artwork. This time, for once, I’d rather not look at a sculpture or a drawing for at least one day. Television doesn’t seem close to being tempting, either.

Sitting on the couch, I pick up the remote and turn it on, anyway. I start flicking through channels, getting to TBS to see Chandler Bing and Monica Geller squabbling across the screen. Sticking with that, I take a bite of my sandwich, grabbing my phone. I had a few notifications, but none of dire importance. Not even one. My mom texted me about dinner this week, which I already knew about, followed by a loving message that I wasn’t ready to get myself into—and the other being Steven requesting money on Apple Pay. There is a shit ton of social media notifications. Those matter the least. It’s either hate or creeps.

Unlocking the phone, I go to my messages and then navigate to Noelle’s contact, tapping it to open our messages. It sucks her first thought was to leave me on read, since now I can’t stop staring at the last message I sent.

Not that she has to, either. I think it hurts more to see that you were left on read than it does to just simply not get an answer back. My only concern is if she felt the same way I did, or if my wine selection was so good I looked like her favorite celebrity. Furthermore, I want to know if there’s any more to her than ballet, Chicago, and Daniel. I don’t want her to be my real-life one who got away.

Sighing, I take a few more bites of my food, locking my phone as I look at the TV. Ross had just eaten the key lime pie that Monica made.

His tongue was getting more swollen by the second, making me smile a bit at the quirkiness of their acting.

I finish my sandwich, then grab my bottle of water, still watching as my phone starts raging in vibration, startling me with the ringtone.

Looking down, I read the caller ID.

Noelle.

The mouthful of water that I had immediately shoots out of my mouth, making me drop my phone.

“Fuck! Don’t hang up, don’t hang up, please!”

I panic. Hurrying, I set the bottle down before picking up my phone, drying it on my shirt as fast as possible. It’s like she was allowing it to continue ringing in order to see how long it would take me to answer. Managing to finally answer it, I still almost drop it once more.

“Hello?”

I say in the calmest tone possible.

“Colton—hey. I’m glad you answered, I was beginning to think you weren’t gonna,”

she says as if her speech was besting her wording”

I would’ve understood,”

she says kindly. I grab the remote, turning the volume down now.

“No—no. I’m here,” I say.

I hear her shuffling with something before some things clunk together.

“So, how are you? What are you doing?” she asks.

Way to be casual. Maybe I’m the only one who thinks two weeks means let it go.

“Um, I’m okay,”

I lie through my teeth before finding the truth”

I’m better now.”

There it is.

“I’ve been dying to hear your voice.”

I soften my voice as I continue.

She sighs softly”

Believe me—I mean it when I say I’m so sorry. I’ll be real with you, talking to men isn’t my forte. Actually, dating isn’t, but we’ll say that I dug deep and found some courage tonight.”

She giggles nervously.

I love that melody.

“I don’t know if I’m reading too deep, but you don’t sound so good, is everything okay?”

she asks, filling our pause.

“I’m…hanging in there,”

I say, buckling slightly.

“Wanna talk about it? You can vent to me. I love listening,”

she politely offers.

Contemplating, I resume the momentary silence. When you ask that sweetly, it makes it hard for me to still feel uncomfortable.

“You don’t have to. I understand,”

she says quickly.

“Nah, it’s not that I don’t want to. I just don’t want to bore you with my pedestrian problems.”

“I called you, okay? I don’t mind, Cole…can I call you that?”

she queries.

My face reddens at her words, laughing to myself”

You can,”

I stage whisper.

“Good. I—I mean, cool. I mean, that’s a good thing—”

she groans.

A bigger smile takes over my face as I lick my lips”

I left you a voicemail and a few messages. I’m sorry if that was invasive.”

“No—God no. I listened to them, though,”

she admits”

I don’t know what to say in these situations. It’s unusual for me. I…I’ve been going to these new meetings and the people there tell me to branch out. It’s sort of hard,”

she says in an inside

voice.

“I understand.”

I take a deep breath”

Can I ask what kind of meetings?”

“Um…for trauma.”

She keeps it short. No need to force her, then.

“Well, either way, I get it. My mom is sick. Honestly, when I sent them, I guess I was looking for something to distract me from the bullshit. I’m kind of freaking out inside,”

I say, tensing up.

I can hear her tiny gasp at what I had said as she listens”

Colton, that’s awful. Oh my God, I’m so shitty. I should’ve answered,”

she says wistfully.

“It’s fine, truly. I’m feeling a little overwhelmed is all. I just feel like I’m being pulled in every direction,”

I confess.

“You know, it sounds like what you need is to do you and focus on yourself. Take a break,” she adds.

Maybe take a break in my dreams.

“Unfortunately, I think I’m incapable of being selfish in that way. I have too many responsibilities,”

I respond.

“Y’know, one day you won’t have a choice, Cole. Would you rather it be your own decision or someone forcing you to be that way?”

she inquisitively asks.

Well, fuck, I don’t know, Noelle.

I sigh”

Okay, you might have a point.”

She begins to talk to some people in the background. A door closes, and I can hear silence again.

“Hey, you know, if it means anything, I had such a good time that I even had a few dreams about it.”

She hesitates”

I hope that doesn’t sound insane, but I’m so overwhelmed with good feelings that it feels like I’m being trolled,” she says.

What the hell did that man do to her?

“That’s a shame because I can do way better than the museum and an unplanned dinner date at my house.”

I chuckle.

“Funny. I bet you can, Kennedy,”

she says enticingly, with a honeyed laugh.

“I’m serious, y’know,”

I press, standing from my seat as I check the time.

“Yeah, I bet. Let me know when that is,”

she says sarcastically.

“What are you doing right now? This very moment?” I ask”

Right now?”

she stutters”

I’m getting ready to find my

train. I just left the coffee shop I work at,”

she says quietly as I listen to people chat in the background.

“Where are you standing?”

I chip at her for more of a description, thinking of a plan.

I listen to her earrings tapping on the phone, assuming she’s figuring it out”

Uh, it’s a karaoke bar?”

she laughs softly.

“Oh, that’s perfect,”

I say, walking to my bedroom”

Stay there. I’ll meet you.”

“Wait—I’m not dressed for a date, Colton,”

she intercepts”

Who cares what you’re wearing? We both know you have

a sense of style, Noelle. You’re always beautiful. This is about singing abilities only. What’s the place called?”

I excuse her, chuckling.

“No way you’re serious,”

she says, pausing for dramatic effect before she responds”

It’s called Maru.”

“Give me twenty minutes. I’ve been there a few times. Don’t leave, okay?”

I reply as I get a few clothing items out.

“Okay…what should I do until then?”

she asks apprehensively”

Get us a video room. Order whatever you want. Just wait for

me,”

I tell her.

I would never pass up this kind of chance with someone I’ve been more than diehard to see again. She is the only good thing lining up in my life correctly as of now. I will not fuck it up.

I continue talking to her, keeping my voice assuring”

I’ll be there.”