If My Memory Serves Me Right, chapter 2
"Jesus," I turned the name over in my mind. "And where'd you get a name like that?" I asked without looking away from his dark eyes.
"Bought it off the local 7-11," He replied without a pause. "It was the cheapest one available." I laughed and he smiled in a nice, relieved kind of way. Tunny was cracking up next to me, but I didn't really notice him. He seemed to almost worship Jesus, and it was clear that Jesus was considered a leader around there.
It was really unlike me to be attracted to someone like I was to Jesus. I mean I'd been in a lot of other areas, but I never really took notice of anyone like I did with Jesus. But he caught my attention for some reason. Maybe he was different, I tried to convince myself. I'd known too many assholes and too many perverts to be able to open up to just anyone, but Jesus was not just anyone. I could tell.
Jesus and I started walking and we were soon deep in conversation. He seemed intelligent, and I wondered how he had ended up in a place like Jingletown. I didn't ask though, because he didn't seem to want to talk about his past any more than I wanted to talk about mine.
We walked on for a while, stopping occasionally to meet people, other times only enjoying each other's company. He brought me to an alleyway in the center of town that was covered in graffiti. I recognized his name in red and black spray paint, and some other members of the Underbelly had clearly left their mark.
"And this is our canvas," he said, looking fondly at the graffiti-covered walls. "We call it the Center Of The Earth." I looked at the graffiti. It wasn't anything different than any other graffiti I had seen or done, but it this graffiti stood out to me like Jesus did when I met him.
Without warning, the same words that had echoed through my head so many times since I had left home came back to haunt me in that alleyway when I was with Jesus. My mom's angry, drunken voice seemed to echo off the very walls, and I heard her scream once more.
"Same shit, different town," the voice yelled. "No matter where you are, you'll never get away from yourself."
Jesus saw how my expression changed, and I felt his hand slip into mine. He didn't ask any questions, but he knew that something was wrong. I turned and saw him looking at me, his eyes soft and curious. In that instant, my heart went out to him like it had never done to anyone else. I realized that he had probably been through as much as me, but we were both in this town together, and we could both stay in this town together.
The voice was still reverberating in my head, but I started fighting it. As Jesus pushed me slowly against the wall, and as our lips connected, I could finally scream back to the voice in my head. For once I could tell it that I had finally found a different town, and even better, I had found someone who cared.
"Bought it off the local 7-11," He replied without a pause. "It was the cheapest one available." I laughed and he smiled in a nice, relieved kind of way. Tunny was cracking up next to me, but I didn't really notice him. He seemed to almost worship Jesus, and it was clear that Jesus was considered a leader around there.
It was really unlike me to be attracted to someone like I was to Jesus. I mean I'd been in a lot of other areas, but I never really took notice of anyone like I did with Jesus. But he caught my attention for some reason. Maybe he was different, I tried to convince myself. I'd known too many assholes and too many perverts to be able to open up to just anyone, but Jesus was not just anyone. I could tell.
Jesus and I started walking and we were soon deep in conversation. He seemed intelligent, and I wondered how he had ended up in a place like Jingletown. I didn't ask though, because he didn't seem to want to talk about his past any more than I wanted to talk about mine.
We walked on for a while, stopping occasionally to meet people, other times only enjoying each other's company. He brought me to an alleyway in the center of town that was covered in graffiti. I recognized his name in red and black spray paint, and some other members of the Underbelly had clearly left their mark.
"And this is our canvas," he said, looking fondly at the graffiti-covered walls. "We call it the Center Of The Earth." I looked at the graffiti. It wasn't anything different than any other graffiti I had seen or done, but it this graffiti stood out to me like Jesus did when I met him.
Without warning, the same words that had echoed through my head so many times since I had left home came back to haunt me in that alleyway when I was with Jesus. My mom's angry, drunken voice seemed to echo off the very walls, and I heard her scream once more.
"Same shit, different town," the voice yelled. "No matter where you are, you'll never get away from yourself."
Jesus saw how my expression changed, and I felt his hand slip into mine. He didn't ask any questions, but he knew that something was wrong. I turned and saw him looking at me, his eyes soft and curious. In that instant, my heart went out to him like it had never done to anyone else. I realized that he had probably been through as much as me, but we were both in this town together, and we could both stay in this town together.
The voice was still reverberating in my head, but I started fighting it. As Jesus pushed me slowly against the wall, and as our lips connected, I could finally scream back to the voice in my head. For once I could tell it that I had finally found a different town, and even better, I had found someone who cared.
