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Authors note: 

This time around I tried to write a little bit more 

than I have been writing per chapter. Bear with me

if it drags on a bit.

Enjoy!

-Nate 

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You could call me privelaged. Hell, you could call me spoiled, and I'd agree with you. Most of these things I had realized soon enough in life. My parents had more and gave me more than most parents in Albany had and gave to their children. But it wasn't until I fully realized it until I met Jonah. He had just moved into an almost-miniature sized townhome a couple blocks down my street. It was a strange thing, the way that one could trek down the three mile stretch of Magnolia St., blocked on either end by the train tracks. And in such a trek, you would see the progression of social and economic status.

All the way down on the southern end of Magnolia Street, it wasn't as much of a street as a narrow alleyway. At the traffic circles and street corners lay dead heaps of attempted decorative foliage. My father would sometimes joke that there was a certain hazard for flowers when you were on southern Magnolia St., and I was strictly prohibited from that area of town. My boundaries for the direction was the intersection that Jonah lived on. And I just so happened to be breaking the rules the day I met Jonah.

I gave a forward approach to our friendship, I offered a hand in moving. They obviously didn't want to pay for a moving van, so I saw Jonah and his father, (who was a terrible alcoholic man I met only three times in my life, and this was the first time.) unloading packed boxed from a browned station wagon. I had just turned 7, which means it was July of 1997. At the time Jonah was 8. Jonah's dad agreed that I could help out but only with the light and not fragile things. I found my job suprisingly difficult considering the family possessed very few valuable things.

Now this was about the time I discovered how lucky I really was. About an hour into the work, I had had seldom words with Jonah or his father. Really, I was just helping out. Being neighborly, but not sociable. Jonah was helping his father transport an antique-looking grandfather clock. It could have been priceless, it could have been worthless, but it wasn't my call. They were carrying it sideways and Jonah was going backwards toward the stairs. Apparently, Jonah's hands had been slipping, and he constantly persisted his father to put the clock down so he could re-adjust. His father said to continue, that he would be ok.

Jonah was not okay. The clock kept dipping downward, and suddenly it nearly slipped out of Jonah's hands, but he was able to hold it on to his knees and fix his hands.

"Stupid ****." his dad scoffed at him. I cringed.

"Sorry Dad." Jonah whimpered back.

They continued down the concrete walkway until they were at the stairs. Jonah gingerly took a step up the stairs, keeping a firm grip on the clock. He extended his other foot to the side, slowly bringing it over the step. His dad was keeping a close eye on everything.

"Careful. Careful. Careful." his dad was repeating.

Jonah got his feet over the steps and his father took two more steps. Jonah took another step, easing slowly back. Very slowly back. The tip of his shoelaces dragged along the cement, the laces curving as the shoe came down on the stair. It came closer, closer-

CRASH! Jonah's dad was the first to the scene, not even wasting a minute on mourning the clock.

"You stupid ****! You stupid ****! You stupid, worthless, bastard child! You're good for ******* nothing! Do you realize how expensive that motherfucking clock was? Do you realize it? You ******* good-for-nothing sonofabitch!" his dad's face was getting red with words, saliva spraying from his lips. His arm cocked back behind him slowly, and it swung forth quickly, a loud smack audible clearly for blocks.

Jonah was instantly in tears and inside the house, which lead to his mom coming out screaming. They fought with nasty and hurtful words. I dropped the box of lightbulbs I was carrying and ran down the street, promising never to use such words, I closed my eyes but tears still cascaded down my cheeks, my eyes still closed for the sole reason of shutting away the cruel world I was a part of.

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Keyword: The Day We Became Men

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