literature

Where do you live, Arry?

Deviation Actions

cassyme's avatar
By
Published:
6.9K Views

Literature Text

    The sound of sandpaper followed Arry everywhere that he went.  Dragging his feet behind him as he walked home, he recognized that godforsaken sound again.

    He heard it all day at work, he heard it in his tired, dragging feet, he heard it in the sound of tires across pavement and chipmunks running across grass.  It was forever present, forever torturing him.

    Arry was only 10 years old, yet he was working an illegal and dangerous job.  “Street rats” like himself didn’t usually get all that much protection from the government, and they didn’t ask for it.  If you wanted to live, you worked.  If you wanted to live, you dealt with the conditions of your job.

    In all his 3,653 days of Arry’s life, there were none so important as this.

    Arry just didn’t know it yet.

    To him, everything looked the same.  The cramped houses, the overflowing garbage cans, the damn raccoons, and the scrapes on his skin from work.  This was all just a part of the monotonous saga of Arry’s life.

    Scrapes, bruises- they were an occupational hazard.  They were worth it, looking down at the money in his hand, Arry knew that they were.

    Arry found himself in Target, and decided that after almost six months of wearing the same two outfits, he deserved a new one.  Usually, he put his money in his savings for school because he wanted to learn how to read and write.  Feeling the lump of money which was his savings in his shoe, he was tempted to spend it all.

    Arry left the store in new jeans, a tee shirt, and a cargo jacket.  He had done his best to wash himself in the bathroom, and had taped up his ratty old shoes with Scotch tape from the cashier.  He felt good, walking down the street, slightly more put together than usual.  Slightly better smelling than usual.

    And then, he saw Her- and She made him wish that he had done more than just wash off with some wet toilet paper.  He followed Her to the playground, and watched Her sit on the swings, but She didn’t actually swing, She just stared at  her feet.

    Arry approached Her; he came close enough that if She were looking up, She would see him staring.  Luckily, She didn’t look up, because Arry couldn’t take his eyes off of Her.  Arry wanted to say something, but he couldn’t think of anything witty and cute enough.  He started multiple sentences, but choked on his words every time.

    And then, he said probably the stupidest thing he could have- “Need a push?”  Maybe in romance movies that works but it just sounded creepy to him.

    She looked up at him and just stared for a little while before saying “No, I just want to sit here,” and resuming Her staring match with Her toes.  Arry turned around and started away, mentally cursing himself, when She called after him- “But I could maybe use a friend.”

    And a friend She received- a great one at that.  With the rest of his money Arry bought Her ice cream, and listened to Her talking for hours while they walked around the playground.   Her problems were admittedly a little petty, things like “I wanted my room to be painted yellow, but Daddy painted it gray,” but Arry still empathized.  The fact that he had never had a room before shouldn’t deduct from the fact that Her Dad painted Her’s the wrong color.

    Arry walked Her home.  It was on the other side of town, but he didn’t mind.

    “I want to see you again, Arry” She said.

    “Me too”

    There was a silence just then, but it wasn’t awkward.  Arry never took his eyes off of Her- She was the most beautiful thing that he had ever seen.  They just stood like that for a few minutes, drinking each other in and wondering what would come next.

    Then, She said the sentence that had been floating around in her head all night.  She had tried to ask Arry about his home, but he didn’t seem to want to talk about it.

    “Where do you live, Arry?”

    Arry had been hoping She wouldn’t ask that question.  He wished that it were that easy, but the problem was that Arry didn’t have a home, he had a box.  This box never moved from the street corner where he left it, but he didn’t know how to read, so he couldn’t tell where his box even was.  See, he wanted to tell Her more than anything, but he couldn’t.  He could take Her there, but where would that leave him?  Here he was, standing in front of Her gigantic house, how would She react to his box?  There was no choice, he couldn’t tell Her.

    “Cover your eyes.” He whispered, “and count to five.”

    On one Arry stared at Her, and brushed the hair away from Her face.

    On two Arry kissed Her on the cheek.

    On three Arry backed away.

    On four Arry was hidden.

    And on five, Arry was gone.

--------

    And so the unlikely relationship continued- the rich girl and the poor boy.   They met on the swings, and he pushed Her while She talked about Her school and Her parties and Her friends, and Arry never talked about his school or his parties or his friends, because he had none.  Sometimes She wondered why he never talked about his life.  Sometimes She wondered why he never asked Her out on a real date, or why he never bought Her more than an ice cream.  There were boys at school who would buy Her the world.

    And still, on one Arry drank Her in, on two he held Her, on three he backed away, on four he hid,

    and on five Arry was always gone.

    Every time She recited those words, those words that caught Arry off guard every time.  “Where do you live, Arry?”.  To Her, it was a ritual.  She didn’t even think about it any more, it was mechanical.  There was no meaning to those words, that was just what She said when She was saying goodbye to Arry.  She asks him, and then he's gone.

    For Arry, though, it’s a slap in the face every time.

    She lived in a mansion, and he lived in a cardboard box.  She deserved the world, and he had nothing to offer Her.  If She had known, She would have hated him.

    So Arry never told.

Until...


-----------

    One day Arry found Her in tears on the swing set, and he  couldn’t imagine what could have gone so horribly wrong, he just wanted to help Her.  He ran up to Her, and She fell into his arms.  Even though he was supposed to be upset for Her, he had never felt so at home.

    As it turns out, Her dad was sending Her away because of Her school and Her friends and Her parties.  Hearing about the problem made Arry kind of glad he didn’t have those things.

    This was his last night with her, and it was winding down the same way as always.  Arry walked her home, and they were on the street in front of her house.  The sun was setting  behind Her and She had never and always been so beautiful when she said-

    “Where do you live, Arry?”

    And Arry told Her to close Her eyes and count to five, and She did.  Except on five, Arry didn’t leave.  He stayed.  And when she opened Her eyes, he said, “Would you like to see?”

    “What?”

    “Where I live, would you like to see it?”

    “Really?”

    “Of course!”

    And they walked to his box, and when they got there She said, “Where is it?” and he said “Where is what?” and She said “Your house.” and he said

    “I don’t have a house.”

    She gasped and said “Oh, Arry” and threw Her arms around him and held him for a long time and all Arry could think was This. This is home.   She loved him even though he didn’t have a home or money and even though all he could buy Her was ice cream when She deserved the world and he had never been so happy.

    “I wanted to tell you, but I can’t read the sign.”

    “It’s okay, Arry, I don’t care.  As long as I have you, you could live in the sewers and I’d never be happier.”

    Arry counted to five.

    On one he settled his stomach.

    On two he held Her hands.

    On three he looked in Her eyes.

    On four he leaned in.

    And on five, he kissed Her.


------------

    Arry walked her home and he was happy because today was different.  Today She knew.  He wouldn’t have to brace himself for the oncoming hit, it was over.  When they were saying goodbye, She did it anyway, out of habit.

    “Where do you live, Arry?”

    Arry smiled and looked in her eyes, then he pointed at her heart and said one word:
    Here.

    This is my home.


   

sandpaper scratch, scratch, scratching.
feet behind him drag, drag, dragging.
© 2014 - 2024 cassyme
Comments8
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
DailyLitRecognition's avatar

Your wonderful literary work has been chosen to be featured by DLR (Daily Literature Recognition) in a news article that can be found here. Be sure to check out the other artists featured and show your support by :+fav:ing the News Article.


Keep writing and keep creating.