The only light cutting through the thick
blackness of the room came from the humming TV set.
Coals that had glowed earlier in the brick fireplace
next to the television had long since died.  He
reclined alone on the couch across the room, a scruffy
looking teenage boy, deep in a dreamless sleep.
Often, he watched TV until the strength in his eye
lids left, ‘til all the thoughts in his head were
numbed and he could drift into slumberland without a
care in the world.  The TV was a path of escape that
he could open with a click of the green button on the
remote.

       “Look who’s finally joining us,” pointed out the tall
boy, Sean.
       “When did you guys get here?”  His recent sleep was
obvious in his voice.
       “Don’t know.  Not very long ago.”  The visitors’ eyes
were again glued to the video game on the TV screen.
       “Cool...  Are ya’ll ‘bout to sleep here?”
       The two unexpected guests glanced at each other.
“Naw,” they said in unison.
       “All right, all right.  I get it, you just come to
use my TV and then bounce when you’ve gotten enough.
My house is like your ho, but for free of course.
Leave, right now.”  A stranger might have been worried
that the host was offended, but these guests were
seasoned veterans of his sarcastic quips.  They didn’t
even blink.
       “Yeah, that’s what we do.  Uh huh.”  Their minds were
on the game.
       The host tried to sit up, but was instantly greeted
by a twinge in his stomach.  He lifted his shirt to
reveal a scar.
       “How’s the cut?” Sean asked, noticing his friend’s
pained expression from the corner of his eye.
       “It’s fine,” he said.  The truth was, there seemed to
be a gap in his memory.  How did he get the scar?  “I
guess...”
       “That's good.”
       “So, what did you guys do tonight?”
       “Not much,” said the other visitor, Nick.  He was
broad shouldered with blond sideburns.  He looked like
a frat boy.
       “Yeah, not much.”
       “You should have called me,”  he said.  “I was hella
bored.”  He couldn’t really remember being bored,
either, but assumed that an evening in front of the TV
would be boring.  Besides, what would his friends
think of him if he didn’t call a night alone at home
boring.  He had always gone about life worried more
about others than himself.  So much so that he
routinely changed his personality to accommodate what
he thought others wanted.  Some would say he was self
sacrificing, others would say he was merely insecure.

       “How’s your girlfriend, dude?”  asked sideburns,
Nick, who sat alone on the smaller couch.  It sat at a
right angle to the larger couch occupied by the other
two.
       “She’s good, I think.  Hurry up and finish your game
so I can get a turn.”  The host deflected the subject
away from Natasha.  It had been a long time since they
had seen each other.  How long?
       “Let’s switch to a different game.  ‘Grand Theft
Auto’ is way funner.”
       “More fun,”  he quickly said, a hint of anger in his
voice.  The host’s Obsessive Compulsive Disorder
didn’t flare up often, but when it came to grammar, he
couldn’t stand mistakes.  “Eh, Sean, go get me some
water.”  He tried to use the pleading eyes that his
two friends had taught him to deal with his
girlfriend.
       “Why would I get up for your water?”  asked the tall
visitor, Sean, who shared his couch.
       “You’re closer,” he said with a smile.  “It’s the
rule.”
       “Eh, let me get one too,”  Nick said.
       “Fine.”  He lifted his tall frame from the couch and
lumbered towards the kitchen.

       Sean returned with only one bottle of water.
       “What’s up, dude?  Where's mine at?” Nick asked.
       “It’s all he’s got.”
       “I swear my mom got more.”
       The tall boy suddenly tossed the bottle into the air,
up for grabs.  The scruffy host seemed to leap into
the air immediately, but he missed the bottle.  A keen
eye would almost swear that his hand passed right
through it as it made its way into the outstretched
arms of Mr. Nick Sideburns.
       “No hands!”  Nick taunted.
       “Oh shut up,” the host said.  “Just finish your
game.”


       Often, midnight trips were made to a 24/7 fast food
place so they could quiet their always hungry
stomachs.  Then, after sitting in the car eating their
feast of dollar burgers and chicken sandwiches, tacos
and fries, they would generally drive as illegally as
possible back to his house, where rules were lax and
video games were plentiful.  They talked about
everything: adult issues and politics to childish
bathroom humor.  Time seemed to zip by when they
gathered for late night chill sessions.  Tonight, they
stayed at the house.

       “So, Nick.  How’s the whole abusive relationship
going?  I hope you don’t have too many bruises.”  The
host sent this playful putdown across the room to
Sideburns.
       “Shut up, cuz,” Nick said as a huge grin covered his
face.  Nick began to giggle, probably nervously, then
threw a box of tissues at him.
       “That was a low blow.”  Sean managed to get these
words out through his hysterical laughter.
       “I mean, it’s true.  I gotta check in with my homeboy
every once in a while, check if he needs some backup,”
he said, again commenting on Nick’s breakup waiting to
happen.  To everyone but Nick, the 16 month
relationship had lasted 16 months too long.
       Nick just glared into the TV set.  “Fuck!”  he
exclaimed out of nowhere.
       The Host thought maybe he had gone too far with his
innocent prodding, but then saw Sean jump up from the
seat next to him.
       “Touchdown!”  the tall boy hollered.
       The host’s eyes darted to the TV.  He watched a
nameless college football player trot into the end
zone as the time winded down.  “Damn, Sean.  His
girlfriend already abuses him, now you gotta do it
to!”
       “A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”
       Nick, meanwhile, sat dejectedly on  the other couch.
He tossed his controller at the coffee table, but it
landed smoothly, silently.
       “Your turn?”  Sean asked the games owner
challengingly.
       The host took his eyes off of Sideburns, and turned
slowly towards Sean.  “Actually...  I’m getting kinda
tired.  You two want a rematch while I take a short
nap?”
       The sunken blond looked up with newfound energy.
“I’m down if you are, Seany boy.”
       Sean shrugged his shoulders and glanced at the host.
“I guess Nick likes to be abused.”
       The host closed his eyes and let his friends voices
fade into the distance.
*****
       The video game was fast paced and required quick
reactions.  The object was to get the car moving as
fast as possible while avoiding the oncoming traffic.
He had practiced long and hard to get this good.  It
seemed easy, now.  As the green light signaled a
beginning to the action, his hands seamlessly brought
the car into first, then second gear.  Third soon
followed, then fourth.  Left, right, right again, then
back to the left.  He wound his vehicle through the
hazardous oncoming traffic.  The sounds began to grow
louder and louder.  The TV screen got closer and
closer.   The finish line was now in view, and it
seemed as if he was inside the digital car, sitting in
the back seat.  Then it happened.  He pressed left on
the controller...  Nothing.  Right.  Still nothing.
The bus in front of his racer loomed ominously, the
only thing between him and the safety of the finish
line.  His hands sweated as he gripped the playstation
controller tightly, so tight that it slipped from his
clammy hands like a wet bar of soap.  He clawed for it
as it fell slow motion through the air.  The noise of
the bus was now deafening, and right before impact...
*****
       He bolted upright.  He looked to his left and his
right, but found himself alone again.  “Sean!  Nick!”
Had they left as abruptly as they had come?
       The tall boy and the blond walked casually in from
the kitchen.  “Had a nice nap?” asked Nick.
       “How long was I asleep?”
       “Like three hours.”  Sean said.
       “My bad, guys.  I’ve just been out of it lately.”

       The night sped forward.  Birds soon chirped quietly
outside the window.  The light of the moon outside was
gradually replaced by hints of sunlight.  The boys
continued to chat and make fun of each other in a way
that only teenagers do, completely oblivious to the
changes happening outside.  The inside of the house
had remained unchanged for as long as any of them
could remember.
       “What was that?”  Sean suddenly asked.
       “What?”
       “That noise upstairs.”
       Nick and the host both strained their ears,
struggling to pick up what the tall boy had heard.
       Finally the host reached into his pocket; his hand
reemerged clutching a cell phone.  He turned it over
and glanced down at the digital clock on the front
face.  “Well, seeing as it’s eight o’clock, it’s
probably my mom taking a shower.”
       “Are you fucking shitting me?” Nick exclaimed.  “It’s
already eight o’clock.  Eh, Sean, we should bounce.”
       “What’s the rush?”
       “Dude, my, uh, my dad’s gonna be hella mad at me.”
       By dad, Sean and the host both knew Nick meant
girlfriend.  Nick seemed ashamed by the fact that he
was no longer punished by his father, but by her.
       “Come on, you guys.  Stick around awhile.  My mom’ll
make you some breakfast.  I know you like her French
toast.”  The host was full of hospitality and always
catered to his visitors needs.  Unless they wanted to
leave, that is.  He couldn’t handle abandonment.  He
hated to be alone.
       “I’m down.  I could use some French toast to help me
build enough energy to walk outside.”  Sean said.
       Nick’s internal dilemma was obvious to his two best
friends.  Eventually, he made the rebellious decision:
 “I guess I’ll stay.”
       “MOM!!!”
       They could hear the water stop running through the
pipes in the ceiling.  Nick and Sean began another
game on the Playstation while they waited, until they
finally heard the creak of the stairs.  The host’s mom
appeared in the doorway, hair still damp from her
recent shower.
       “Good morning, Mark,” she said to the host.
       “Mom...”  he said with a sly look that told her he
wanted something.
       “Yes, Mark?”  She could detect his impending request.
       “Can you make us some French toast?”
       “I can make you some French toast, Mark.”  Mark
glanced exasperatedly at Sean, then at Nick.
       His mom walked into the room and stooped over in
front of the TV to pick up an empty water bottle.
       “Mom!”  Mark snapped.  “You’re blocking their game.”
       A sad look crept over her face as she rose.  She
slowly spoke.  “Mark, you’re all alone here.  The TV
is black.”
       Mark looked around her body and saw the heated
college football rivalry game that his friends were
engrossed in.  He glanced first to Nick, then Sean.
His look said the words “Is she crazy?”
       “Mom, my two best friends are sitting right here!”
       “Mark, when will you move on.  They’re gone.”  She
said this under her breath, as though she didn’t quite
want him to hear, as though she’d said it many times
before.
       Mark’s mind shot into flashback, noises, quick
motions, the bus from the video game dream now very
real, coming towards the car at full speed.  This time
he didn’t jolt back to reality before the crash.
Instead he saw glass shatter, from the back seat saw
the front of the car crumble under the force of the
gargantuan mass of the bus.  Air bags opened in the
front of him, his stomach felt a sudden pain, followed
by a trickle of blood.  Sirens and flashing red
lights.  White sheets covering stretchers.  Blood.
The salty taste of tears in his mouth.
       “I... know... Mom,” he said through gritted teeth.
He was now alone in the room with his mother.  The TV
behind her was very black, and very “off”, just as she
had said.
       “How long will you deny, Mark.”
       “Shut up!  Stop talking!”
       “It’s been a year.”  Her eyes were watering.
       “I said shut the fuck up, mom!  Leave me alone!”
Saliva flew through the air when he talked.  He was
like a wild animal.  Fire burned in his eyes.
       Tears were now flowing down her cheeks.  “Mark,
you’re killing me.”
       “Fuck you!  Leave me alone!”
       His mom turned and made her way out of the room.

       Mark sat in silence, staring at the blank television.
 Had they left as suddenly as they had come?  Where
had his friends gone?  As always, the TV numbed his
thoughts.  His mind emptied and his eyelids grew
heavy.
       A soft thud in the kitchen brought him back to
reality, or nearer to it.  His head swiveled towards
the door.
       “Mom!  Where’s our French toast?”
       After five minutes with no reply, he stood up, dizzy
at first, but then stable.  His feet automatically
walked towards the kitchen, as if controlled by the
part of the brain that controls breathing.  He neared
the kitchen door and saw his mother’s legs lying flat
on the floor.  He stepped into the room and saw the
red pool forming around her neck.  She held a knife in
one hand and a note in the other.  Mark ignored the
note, but picked up her hand.  Their fingers
interlocked.
       The absence of a pulse was like his absence of
feeling.  Death was nothing new to him, nothing he
couldn’t handle.  He gently set down her heavy arm and
rose to his feet, then turned and walked towards the
living room, to sanctuary.
*****

       Mark smiled when he saw Nick and Sean were back,
sitting in the same places as before, again locked up
in an intense video game battle.
       “Hey guys,” he said with a smile.
       “Look who’s finally joining us,” the tall boy, Sean,
said.

       Ten minutes later, Mark’s mom walked into the room,
carrying three plates loaded with succulent, steaming
pieces of French toast lathered in maple syrup, just
the way the host would imagine a perfect breakfast.
“Here you go, boys.”  Her warm smile showed how much
she enjoyed providing for her guests.  Like mother,
like son.
       “Thanks, Mom.”  He blew her a kiss, then looked back
at the TV.