Anarchism of an Antichrist
Chapter 3
A loud knock on the door of Jason's room awakened him. Through the fog of sleepiness, he recognized that the alarm clock was buzzing. “What?” asked Jason.
His mother opened the door and she said, “You missed the bus for school.”
“I'm tired.”
“That's no excuse. You can't continue missing school.”
“I'll go tomorrow.”
“That's what you've been saying the past few days. You need to go to school.”
“But I already missed the bus.”
“I'll drive you. Get your clothes on in the next fifteen minutes.”
“Okay.”
Jason's mother left the room and he prepared for school. He arrived in time for his third class and he had to present an excuse letter from his mother.
While sitting at the desk in his social studies class, Jason's eye lids drooped. Before he knew it, his face was on the desk and he was unaware of the teacher's lecture.
He awakened to a hand on his shoulder. “Jason, class is over,” said Mrs. Chao, a middle aged Asian woman.
“Oh, I must have dozed off.”
“I think you need to go to the office.”
Jason went to the principal's office. The principal, Mr. Barker was an old man with gray hair and a beard. He looked at Jason, gravely, and said, “Can you explain why you fell asleep in social studies today?”
“I've been getting very tired lately.”
“Do you have problems sleeping at night?”
“No. My body just feels the need to sleep most of the day.”
“Maybe you should see a doctor about that. I'm sending you home for the rest of the day.”
Jason felt trepidation about leaving the school. It might drastically change his life, if he couldn't go to school anymore, but the sleeping disorder was too overpowering. He cleared out his locker, putting all his things in his backpack, and he waited outside for his mother to pick him up. There was a chilling finality in taking all his things with him. What would happen to him if he couldn't attend school anymore?
When he got in the car, his mother gave him an irritated look, which further fueled his anxiety.
“Have you been smoking?”
“No.”
“You're lying. I found cigarettes in your room.”
This violation of privacy piqued Jason, who protested “You have no right to go through my things.” His evening was ruined also now, unless he could find somewhere to go for cigarettes.
“It's my house and I didn't raise you to be a drug addict. I want to know what else you've been doing.”
“Nothing.”
“I don't believe you. You've obviously been doing something you shouldn't, besides smoking. I'm going to talk to your father about this.”
During the car ride back to the house, Jason felt an anxious sense of loss. What was going to happen to him if he never went back? Would he end up a homeless beggar, panhandling for change when he wasn't spending most of the day sleeping?
After they got home, his mother said, “If you're not going to go to school, then you need to stay at home.”
“Sure,” said Jason, feeling the sleepiness overwhelming his consciousness, as he turned toward his bedroom. The weight over his eyes, pressing him downward, made sleep seem inviting. It was so relaxing to lay down on his bed and fall asleep. There wasn't a concern in the world, which could disturb him while he was sleeping. Jason entered his bedroom and removed his shoes. Then he lay down on his soft bed, closing his eyes. Soon, all the worries about school and his future were abated by the peaceful oblivion of slumber.
Hours later, he awakened and he felt the need for a cigarette. It gnawed at his brain, like a vacuum, sucking his every waking moment into a vortex of unrelenting need, He checked the stash, which he kept in a shoe box under his bed. It was all gone. What a waste. Those cigarettes could have kept him satisfied for several days. He picked up his cell phone and called Toby.
Toby said, “Hello.”
“My mom just raided my stash of cigarettes and I'm having a conniption fit.”
“I can spare a cigarette for you.”
“Thank God. I'll be right over.”
Jason opened his bedroom window and he crawled through it. He was fearful as he landed on the ground, outside, uncertain whether his mother would see him. Thankfully, there was a bush in front of his bedroom window. He hid behind the cover of the bush and scanned the front yard. Her car was still parked in the driveway and the drapes of the living room windows were open. It looked like she might be watching television. He quietly crept out from behind the bush and walked toward the street, on a trajectory away from the living room window. Soon he was on the street and his parents' house was no longer within seeing distance.
When Jason reached Toby's house, Toby took Jason back to his room. They sat on a green felt couch with a coffee table, made from petrified wood, in front of it. The atmosphere of Toby's room had a relaxing effect on Jason. It looked like a drug den out of the seventies, with the walls covered in psychedelic oil paints, a poster of Bob Marley hanging near the door, and a wooden incense holder, for burning sticks of incense, set out on the table next to the ash tray.
“I heard about what happened at school today.”
“It's terrible. I'm having problems keeping my eyes open a lot of the time.”
“You should try coffee.”
“I've tried it and it only worked for the first few days. Then my body got used to it and it didn't do much of anything.”
“That's too bad. Maybe you can home school.”
“I don't think my parents would like that. They would consider that to be dropping out.”
“It's not dropping out if you actually study. You can get your GED.”
“You got that cigarette?”
“Yeah.” Toby took out a package of cigarettes and removed one of them, offering it to Jason.
Jason took the cigarette and put it between his lips. He enjoyed the taste of the dry tobacco against his lips. It had a type of sweetness to it that resembled candy. Toby lit the cigarette with a lighter and Jason inhaled. The smoke calmed the tension in his mind and he felt pleasurable warmth, tingling throughout his body. Everything felt so much better as he exhaled the smoke.
Toby lit a cigarette for himself and the two boys sat on the couch, smoking for ten minutes, before a pressing concern overrode the comfort, which Jason felt in this situation.
Jason put the little that remained of his cigarette into an ashtray, on the coffee table, and he said, “I've gotta get back to my room before my mother knows I'm gone.”
“Nice seeing you.”
“Yeah, thanks. I owe you one.”
Jason left Toby's house and he walked to his parent's place. By the time he got back, it was dark out. The cold night air revitalized his body and made him feel lively with the freedom of roaming the neighborhood, regardless of his parents' wishes. The sight of his father's car in the driveway, caused him an anxious premonition. The drapes in the living room were still open and someone was watching television. He slowly crept toward the bush in front of his bedroom window,
The front door opened and his father looked out, sending a jolt through Jason's frame. “Jason, get your ass in here!” demanded his father.
His father's voice hit him like an emotional maelstrom, draining all his comfort and enjoyment into a bundle of fearful uncertainties. Jason moped toward the front door with his head downcast. As he passed through the doorway, the palm of his father's hand slapped him across the back of the head, sending a shock through his body, which rattled him down to his feet.
Jason's mother was standing in the living room, with her hands on her hips, and a disconcerting mixture of anger and disappointment radiating from her features. An overwhelming hopelessness fell over Jason, as he stood there, between his angry parents.
His father said, “I hear you've been doing drugs.”
“Just smoking cigarettes.”
“Is that what you were doing just now?”
“I went out for some fresh air.”
His mother shook her head and said, “We can't allow you to behave like this.”
“We think you need help,” added his father.
The mere mention of the word help sent an irritating pang into Jason's mind, followed by encroaching feelings of helplessness. “What do you mean help?”
His mother said, “If you're unwilling to attend classes, then we have no choice but to put you somewhere.”
A growing despair fell over Jason, as he realized he might lose his freedom. “But I could do home schooling.”
“You're obviously not ready for home schooling. You couldn't even do what I told you to do earlier today.”
“I'll stay home from now on.”
“It's too late for that,” said his father. “Your mother has your things packed. We're putting you somewhere where you can get help.”
Jason noticed the suitcase nearby the sofa. It was no use refusing to go. He could tell his parents had made up their mind. Refusing to go would only make it worse. “Where will I be staying?”
His mother picked up the suitcase and brought it over to him. “At a recovery center. It's only until you get better.”
Jason picked up the suitcase and followed his parents out to the car. His father drove, his mother sat in the front passenger seat, and Jason sat in the back seat, alongside his suitcase. Everything seemed so different now, as they drove away from his parent's house. The neighborhood had become so cold and distant.
When they reached the psychiatric hospital, Jason felt a cold chill, seeing the sign out front. He wondered what the other kids at school would think about him having stayed at a place like this. The thought of ever going back to that Junior High again frightened him.