As we were about to finally sit down after a long day of nothing but menial paperwork and answering the phone... the phone, of course, had to ring.
"You gonna answer that?" I asked.
"Already did, go open the door."
"What? Seriously, answer the phone." I persisted.
"Look at the clock, what time does it say it is?"
"Five thirty, what's that got to do with it?"
"Five thirty. The time when Rebecca comes home from work. Given we live right next door to her, why would she be calling? She could easily come over, but she's choosing to call. This is quite simple. Go press the buzzer."
"What makes you so sure it's Rebecca? She didn't even use the doorbell." I asked.
"I replaced it with a knocker."
"What, why?"
"Knockers are better."
"Says who?"
"Says the person that is telling you to go and let our friend inside, it's about to rain you know, in three...two...one."
Just then it began to pour heavily outside.
Without even bothering to reply, I got up from my chair and buzzed Rebecca in.
"Thanks guys!" I heard Rebecca say.
"How do you do that?"
"The simple laws of deduction. It's rather elementary my dear Watson, I wouldn't expect you to understand."
"How many times do I have to ask you not to say that to me? My name is Joseph. Jo-seph!"
"Ugh, fine. It's rather elementary my dear Joseph."
"Thank you."
"No problem, my dear Watson."
"I will kill you."
"Never will I doubt that."
"I'm glad it won't be a surprise for you then, James."
"Just promise me when you finally murder me, it will be while I am awake. I'd like to have some degree of honor when it comes to my demise."
"I promise."
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So there is the best possible definition of James and I. We are basically the new generation of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, I'll let you figure out who is who. We met nearly two years ago on June 9th. I had just turned eighteen and my family was tired of my games, so they sent me to live on my own and learn how to make my way in the world, since they couldn't teach me how themselves.
I can't blame them though, I was a troubled kid. When I would come home from school- if I even went to school that is- I would just come in the door, drop my bag, grab cash, then leave. Some days I would decide that home wasn't good enough for me, so I'd leave for days on end. I would usually go to the nearest train park, draw in some tunnels, get high, and other things of that sort. As you can imagine, I dropped out of school at the end of my junior year, and I did just what I wanted to do. Eventually my parents gave up and I was going places and doing things and getting off scott-free. Well, I guess the few occasions when I was locked up, my parents decided it was 'for the best' for me to stay there and do my time. I think I was in the pit for around two months total.
Anyway, James is very different from me. He was raised like that of a prince. His parents were very rich and they always gave him what he wanted. I guess after nineteen years of this, he got fed up and just left. Every time I ask him why he left, he just says,"I just needed to get out on my own". I know that sounds like a sufficient reason, but something tells me there's more to the story.
James has the most interesting personality. He can often make you feel special, then he can make you also feel very stupid, all in the same second. It can be pretty annoying, no doubt, but sometimes I just want to peek inside his mind to finally be able to see what and how he sees things. James is a very critical person. He always knows your soft spots, your pressure points, and simply how to grab and keep your attention. He is a psychopath though, so it's always best to keep a safe distance. He's the most unpredictable human being on the face of this planet, let alone America.
Back to my story. After I got kicked out, I just hopped on a train and I let it take me where it would take me. Eventually I felt the need to get off the train when I hit Chicago. Yup, of course I picked the place where all the homeless congregate to fight over a day-old hotdog bun. But hey, I followed my instincts.
I was heading near Millenium Park to find a spot where I could crash for the night without getting arrested. I managed to find a place near some kind of garden that seemed quiet enough, so I began to unpack my blanket.
"Excuse me, you're in my spot." I heard someone say.
I looked up and saw a man in a black and white striped trench coat. He had on a white bow tie and his hair was combed neatly back with gel, making him look Italian, even though he was obviously just American.
"I'm sorry?" I asked.
"My spot, you're in my spot. The spot where I like to think. I can only think in this one spot. All other spots are useless to me. Kindly remove yourself from my spot." He said, obviously irritated.
Suddenly I felt enraged. I just got kicked out from my parents place, I jump on a train, I find a place in the park to sleep in, it's freezing out, it's my birthday, and this guy wants my spot so he can think!? How about no.
"Uh, how about no? Find another place to 'think'." I said, with a hostile tone to make my point.
I looked up at the man after a few seconds of pure silence. His face had turned bright red, which I could see even though it was dark out. He has hid fists tightened and his jaw clenched. I was begining to think he was getting angry.
"Is there a problem?" I asked with a cocky expression.
"No there isn't a problem. Why would there be a problem? It's not like there's a young man composed of only failure and rejection refusing to let me sit in the only place where I can think straight and relax my intelligent mind only because he has been kicked out of his parents' house because he is a delinquint! Why would I have a problem with that!? I'm totally fine with that!"
His face slowly began to turn back to normal, thinking he made his point.
"Oh, well I'm glad there's no problem then. Goodnight." I said with a snide smile and a light tone. For some reason I just wanted to cut this guy.
Before I knew it, I was well over ten feet away from where I was sitting not a moment ago. Blood dripped into my eye. I tried my hardest to get back up, but it felt like I had at least sprained my knee.
"What the heck man!?" I yelled.
When I looked over to where the man was, all I saw was the black silhouette of a calm man sitting in my spot.
My spot.
I pushed myself to my feet and I headed back towards the scum that was in my spot. He was sitting there, with a slight smile, but otherwise a blank expression on his face.
"Yo! Get out of my spot or I swear I will break you in two!"
Nothing. Not even a blink. I got up in his face and began to yell.
"Hello!! Anyone in there!? Get out of my spot or I'll-"
"You'll what? Go to the police? Go right ahead. You smell like weed. Think they'll notice? I do. What else are you going to say to them? 'Excuse me Mr. Police man, I was trying to sleep illegally in the gardens and a man wanted to sit in my spot, can you please remove him so I may sleep illegally in that spot even though there are many other spots to illegally sleep in?' Go right ahead. See how that works out for you."
This guy.
I get kicked out of my parents' house on my birthday and I'm not even allowed to sleep on the ground? No, I was gonna kill this guy. I drew back my arm to make a blow for his face.
As I lunged my arm forward, he looked at me. Time seemed to stand still for that one moment. He looked at me, right in my eyes. I felt...weird. I felt like he already knew me as if we had been friends for many years. I saw compassion, understanding, grace and patience in his eyes for that one moment.
Then he punched me.
I think that's the part where I passed out.
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When I awoke, I was slouched in a beat-up brown leather love seat.
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