Away and Back

I originally wrote this for an assignment, so I figured heck, why not publish it.

When I was much younger, around ten or eleven years old, there was a period of time during which my parents were under a lot of financial stress and pressure. My family had begun the journey of converting to Judaism and my parents were frequently in touch with the rabbis of the Beit Din in Los Angeles about what was required and what steps needed to be taken. There were many demands being made and the requests were often very difficult. That was the job of the rabbis: to make the process as difficult as possible, but not impossible. Nevertheless, it can drive a person crazy. They turn you down, they make you wait and they demand different things. Initially they treat you as if they absolutely do not want you to be Jewish. They make you feel that all is hopeless. In truth, this process is necessary; they do not actually want you to convert but if in fact you are supposed to be Jewish, then in the long run, this testing process proves this. It is their way of testing your faith and sincerity. My parents never considered giving up, but the frustrations of constant denials and the delays in moving forward caused intense levels of stress in the household. It seemed to me that I was catching the brunt of the stress and it was making my life miserable.

I can see in retrospect that things were not nearly as bad as I thought them at the time, but I was too immature to understand that it was a phase that would pass; that even parents go through phases that are not always pleasant. It just seemed from my perspective that they were angry a lot, and they seemed always to be mad at me. I wasn’t perfect but it seemed that every little thing I did wrong would set off my mother’s temper, and kick start a long-winded lecture from my step-father. His favorite thing to say was, “This is the way we do things in this house, and if you don’t want to do it like that then I’ll send you to your dad!” One day it occurred to me, why not run away? Perhaps it would be for just a little while. Perhaps it would be forever. I had read a lot of books, often about kids who ran away from home, or who for some reason were left to fend for themselves in various situations. Well why couldn’t I do the same? I didn’t know when I’d leave or where I’d go. After pondering the idea for a few days I decided I would pack up and leave the next morning. I decided I would go live under an enormous tree growing at the edge of our neighborhood. It was going to be exciting.

The next morning I woke up very early. It was still dark outside and everyone in the house was sound asleep. I crept out of my room and went to the kitchen. I took a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, and a jar of jelly. I put these into a paper bag and went to the garage to get my blue mountain bike. I had to keep as quiet as possible so as to not wake my parents. This was quite a task because I had to carry the bike through the house. I feared opening the garage door because the noise would surely wake someone. If I rolled the bike through the house then the “tic, tic, tic” would have given me away. It weighed heavily in my arms but I finally reached the front door. I took up my paper bag which made a deafening crinkling sound in the silent house. I froze and waited to hear the bedroom doors open and the heavy footsteps in the hallway. After an interminable length of time I realized that what I thought was an enormous racket caused by the paper bag had apparently disturbed no one other than me. I had my things; food, bicycle, and sleeping bag. I shut the front door as softly as I could and was free.

It all seemed so unreal. I could not believe what was happening. I had actually left! Goodness, where would I go? I had no real plans. I only knew that I was leaving, just like Tom Sawyer and others who had ventured into the wide world.

It was mostly dark with the first rays of the sun just beginning to creep over the horizon. I was more alert than ever. Every one of my senses was amplified. The sound of dogs in the distance and the cool breeze against my face was distinct and sharp. I began to pedal down the street. As I turned the corner a pickup truck approached from the distance. I stopped, frozen. In my mind I was certain I looked suspicious. Why would a kid be out at that hour? Shouldn’t I have been in school, or in bed? The truck came closer. Whoever was driving had surely seen me. I was a goner. If they stopped to ask me what I was doing I thought perhaps I could make up a believable excuse. I could say… well, anything. As the truck came closer, I tried to act as casual as possible. My breath quickened and my heart was racing. I should have stayed home. The truck was driving much too slowly. I awaited my fate, expecting the driver to stop and accuse me of exactly what I was up to. The truck came. It was my moment of judgment. Nothing happened. To my utter relief it just rolled on by. After it dawned on me that they had kept going, I felt silly.

“Of course,” I thought. “Why would anyone care? What’s to fear?” I nevertheless made a mental note to be more cautions. I continued to bike down the street. In the short ride from my house to the corner I managed to plot out my whole life as it would be from that moment. For the time being I would stay by the huge tree at the edge of the neighborhood. I would be hidden inside the leaves and branches that drooped down to the ground. I thought perhaps I would get a job once I had settled in. Everyone has to have a job. With the money I earned I would buy food. I thought briefly about my parents. I quickly dispelled a pang of guilt. My parents? What about them? They’d been so mean to me lately that this would be a way to teach them a lesson. I consoled myself that running away wasn’t that big of a deal. I would go back to visit them once I’d made something of myself. They would see what I had become and I would tell them of my success and adventures. Presently, however, a more serious situation drew me out of my thoughts.

As my fantasies faded, I became aware of something truly terrifying. This was far worse than a truck driving by. At least a person would only catch me, but this…this thing could kill me! My worst case scenario played out in my mind. A dog. A BIG dog! He was just down the road. A white German Shepherd with splashes of grey in his coat was just standing and staring at me. This was not just a little mutt. This dog was huge. I knew you weren’t supposed to run. That would make the dog chase you, and since they were much faster than humans, it only incited them to kill you when they caught you. I wasn’t afraid of nice, tame dogs, but I was afraid of stray dogs; the ones that stalked in the early morning hours looking for little boys to attack and eat. I read the news. I heard about dog attacks. For a moment I was overcome with terror. I felt like screaming. I felt like crying. I started to panic. As the dog started to walk toward me, I froze like a pillar of salt. I knew dogs could smell fear, and this one would no doubt smell it on me. I reeked of it! Oh, no! I was petrified and he continued to walk in my direction. I was puzzled, though. Why was he walking? Why wasn’t he running? Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t going to kill me after all. I relaxed slightly, but not too much. I suspected at any moment the dog would abandon his trick and kill me. I had to face him. I would be brave. About then, the dog came up to me and just sat down. Huh! It was completely unexpected. It seemed so cool. I decided instantly that the dog would be a companion with whom I would share adventures as well as my peanut butter and jelly. The dog who a moment before was my worst enemy instantly became my best friend.

“Come on Buddy,” I said. I decided that was his name. I continued pedaling, more slowly this time since buddy was in tow, toward my new home under the tree. I wanted to make sure he followed me. We had gone some distance when I realized that it was dawn. Streaks of sun were hitting the tops of the trees. I imagined my mother would probably be getting up now. This put me at extreme unease. Until that moment I was comforted with the knowledge that I could undo everything without remorse. No one was aware of what I had done. Once I reached that point though, it could not be undone. My only solace was that Buddy was there. He was in it with me. I knelt down and whispered to him, “There’s no turning back now, Buddy.” I climbed off my bike so I could walk beside him.

G-d had it out for me. I knew it. Just as I was walking along with Buddy, the dog who would share my adventures and protect me (just like in the books,) a jeep drove up and stopped. Not again. This time it came to a complete stop. A lady got out. Oh, no! No games. Oh, great. I was caught for sure. My dear four-legged companion, Buddy bolted toward her.

“Oh, wow!” she exclaimed. “This is my dog! Thank you! I had lost him and I was looking all over for him!”

HER dog? You mean my lifelong companion and protector was her dog? It couldn’t have been! I couldn’t do anything about it and I knew it. I didn’t want to stay to chat with her. She might have started asking tricky questions. I just told her it was no problem and went dejectedly on my way. I was very upset about losing Buddy, but I was more relieved that I had not been caught.

I finally reached my destination. I had never actually been to the tree before. I had only looked at it from the window of the car whenever we drove by. It was more enormous up close than I had imagined. It was perfect. I was shielded from view and it seemed quite comfy. I was ready to set up shop. I explored around it for a while, observing my new colossal abode surrounded by a wall of leaves and branches that fortified me from the outside world. I soon lost interest. I decided I wanted to go somewhere. After all, there was no one to whom I was required to answer. I could go anywhere I wanted. I decided to go to the Wal-Mart about a mile down the road, not that I had a reason to go there. It was just because I could. By then it was full morning so the store would surely be open. It was something to do, a place to go, and an opportunity to exercise my new independence. I set out toward the store. Before long I started feeling uneasy. Something wasn’t right. Maybe it would have been best to stay in the tree, but the need for adventure and travel pushed me on, so I continued.

I biked along, not caring much about anything. I was just happy to be going somewhere. A police car traveling in the opposite direction made my heart leap into my throat. I gasped audibly. I didn’t understand why, of all things, I would get such an ill feeling about a police car. Yet, something wasn’t right about it. Something inside told me to worry. But then it drove right past me. Whew! Those sorts of things had been happening way too often that morning. I had to quit being so paranoid. The rest of the world wasn’t concerned. But wait. Suddenly the police car slowed and made a U-turn. Then its siren came on. Then it sped up. Then it started banking to the side of the street. It was after me. I wished with all my being at that moment that the dog had just killed me. I felt all my insides turn to jelly and evaporate. I was ready to melt into the earth and cease to exist. The car slowed down. Then it stopped. Never before had I been so terrified of anything. All I could think about were those red and blue lights and the blare of the siren. The very sound seemed to pierce through my soul. The officer rolled down his window.

“Are you Austin Gould?” he asked. More chaos occurred inside me in those three seconds than all of World War II. My mind split. It raced through all the available options. Was I to tell the truth? Should I lie? “No!” You never tell a lie. Lying is the worst crime you can commit in my house. Lying gets you the capital punishment; an automatic spanking. Especially never lie to an authority figure. My tongue and brain seemed detached for a moment. I didn’t think. I couldn’t think. What would I say? Suddenly my tongue did me in. I heard the word, “yes” blurted out of nowhere. The officer then shifted his demeanor to one of concern. He got out of the car.

“Ok Austin, I’m here to take you home,” the officer said. How on earth did he know who I was? It seemed impossible. How could he know I ran away? He opened the back seat door.

The back seat door. That’s where criminals sit. He was putting me in the back seat. I was going to jail. They couldn’t send me to jail, could they? I was a kid. But I had heard of kids going to jail. I knew that was where I was headed.

“What about my bike?” I blurted out. My bike should not have mattered. I was going to jail, but still, I couldn’t have just left it in the street, and it was an opportunity to stall the inevitable. The officer, despite exhibiting a firm manner, also seemed caring and replied, “No problem. Here, I’ll put it in the back seat first and you can climb in after.” I was surprised my bike could fit, let alone at the same time as myself. Finally, it was my turn to enter. As I got inside the lump in my throat swelled to almost choking me. I felt so bad; so like a criminal. I wasn’t going to cry, though, not in front of the officer. I asked if I was going to jail. He said no. He asked me where I had been heading. I told him to the Walmart.

“Why?” he asked me.

“To rest,” I replied weakly. I really didn’t have a reason. He continued to ask questions.

“Why were you outside of your house?” I answered unconvincingly, “I dunno. I think I was sleepwalking.” I thought I had him fooled because he didn’t ask much else after that. Later, I realized he wasn’t fooled at all but was just being nice to me by not refuting my claim.

He must have decided he would leave it to my parents. He said, “Well your parents are really worried about you. They didn’t know what happened. They thought something terrible might’ve happened and they’re real scared right now.” I had not thought about that. It didn’t seem like such a dramatic affair. What he said made me feel bad in a way I never expected. I still wasn’t going to cry in front of him. Besides, even though I knew now that they were worried, I was sure it couldn’t have been as big a deal as he was making it sound like.

“I’m taking you to see them now. I’m going to drop you off at your house.” I would have preferred jail. I knew I would be in big trouble. I knew my parents would be so angry they would probably pull me out of the car and beat me silly. The officer had no idea he was escorting me to the electric chair. It was all I could do not to cry but I quelled my emotions in front of the officer. This was a big tough police officer and he wasn’t ever going to see me cry.

We arrived at my street and the scene I beheld when we came up to the house surprised me. It was bad enough that the officer driving me home knew I had run away, but what was worse was there was a second car in front of the house. There was a lady officer in the driveway talking to my mother who I could see was in tears in a way I had never seen before. Our car stopped in front of the driveway and the officer came around and opened the door. I felt like the lowliest creep on earth. How could I have been so stupid, so selfish? If I had known my mother would be so sad I would never have done it. I had caused her that grief for some short lived adventure. I wished I was asleep and merely having a bad dream. I hoped I would wake up. Alas, it was real. I felt bad in every possible sense of the word. Guilt over my mother’s anguish consumed me. I still held myself together. The officer was still there and I could not cry in front of him. As I got out of the car my mother rushed toward me. She wasn’t angry. She didn’t spank me. She didn’t yell at me. She just held me tightly in her arms and cried in relief. I had done her so wrong and had so misjudged her. She loved me and I still did that to her. I loved my mom and I did that. The officer was still there. I wouldn’t cry in front of him; never. But as my mother hugged me for what seemed to be ages, all these thoughts overwhelmed me. I hugged my mother back. I cried.