For the children

    Jenna considered herself the best mom of all of her neighborhood. As a matter of fact, her children had given her various “awards” throughout the years with the labels “best mom”, “greatest mommy” and others. She had left her career in real estate to say at home and take care of her children but when her Andy reached the age of five, she decided it was time to go back to work, at least part time.

 Her boss asked her repeatedly if she was certain about it and she always said she was very sure of it. Every morning, she would take her two children Andy and Veronica (who was three years old) to the daycare center. Then, she would work until the clock hit two o’clock. She would pick up her children at that time and would normally take them for food shortly afterwards.

 The meal of choice was always fast food. It did not matter if it was hamburgers, chicken nuggets, chili fries, subs or, sometimes, ice cream. Her mother thought she spoiled them too much but she did not think so. To be honest, she took them to those places for them to be happy, as every time she picked them up, they would be rather sad. She had no idea why and didn’t have time to wonder why.

 Jenna’s husband worked in a multinational company, selling various electronic devices to retailers all around the world. This meant he was rarely at home and almost had no chance to spend time with his wife. To be honest, Jenna had not had any sex with her husband since she had been pregnant with Veronica. That was a long time to spend without a kiss or a caress. But she was no saint…

 Sometimes she would be late to pick up her children, for reasons no one but her knew. Jenna would always compensate her absentmindedness by buying candy and more food and toys to her children. And they seemed to like it so there was no real harm in it. Besides being late, she would sometimes scream and them. She would never hit them or anything but she had to let out some steam somehow, especially when her husband called her to say he would be staying two more weeks in some country she didn’t even knew.

 That was Jenna’s life: she did what she thought was right, trying desperately to mend a life that had turned against her, or so she felt. One day she cried especially hard because she realized something that hurt her and no, it wasn’t that her husband was cheating. That she had known for many years and was the main reason she refused to be touched by him. What she realized was that she didn’t like her children. They made her feel trapped in a life that wasn’t he one she had thought for herself all those years ago, when she was and felt young.

 However, in her office, she worked with a man called Vincent. He was a very clean man, very thorough with every assignment he did. He didn’t like Jenna very much. To be honest, he didn’t really like anyone in the office. It wasn’t that he didn’t like people; he just didn’t like them. He had many friends out of work and enjoyed spending time with them although some conversations with them proved to be difficult. With time they got easier but there was always some kind of “awkward factor”.

 When he was younger, Vincent had to be sent to psychologist because his behavior was “strange”, according to his father. According to him, his son had never been with a woman and he was already twenty-two years old. He even went on to say that if he were gay, it would have happened earlier but nothing. Vincent and the doctor had many sessions until he realized he was asexual, which meant he didn’t feel any sexual desire for any gender.

 This revelation was obviously hard on his parents but was even harder to accept by Vincent. He knew it beforehand but the appearance of a word that describe who he was, made him think a lot of other things: would he ever have a family, for example? Was love always linked to sexual desire? The doctor had said he could have meaningful romantic relationships with whomever he wanted but now that seemed just a nice phrase to make him feel better.

 By the time he had gotten the job in the real estate office, he had realized that the doctor had been right. A year into his arrival at the job he had met a very nice woman called Rita. She was beautiful and brave and funny. She was simply everything he loved about people but summed up in a single person. They would spend many nights together, talking about various subjects that interested both of them. Their first kiss was difficult but he was able to overcome it.

 She knew about him being asexual and assured him she was fine with it. But after marrying and living together, they both felt they lacked something and that was a child. They couldn’t have him naturally for obvious reasons and when doing tests to make an “in vitro” fertilization, doctors informed Rita she was infertile. That came as a big blow to them, feeling unlucky and sad.

 They finally decided to adopt and discovered how difficult it could be. The agency they went to go through all of their history included their medical records. When asking about the psychologist sessions he had in his youth, Vincent told the agency he was asexual and that settled the matter for them. They told them they had a strong religious consciousness and couldn’t give children to people that “defied the model of what a family and a person should be”.

 Naturally, the couple was destroyed by this decision. They left the agency without speaking and knowing their relationship had encountered a large hurdle. Before they left, they saw a child playing in the gardens, maybe around ten years old. They smiled at him and then left on their car, never to come back again.

 That child’s name was Anthony. He had been under the care of the orphanage for a long time, since he was maybe four or five. He didn’t know all the details but he knew his mother was deemed unsuitable to have any children with her, so they took him away. He didn’t know if he had any brothers or sisters, he didn’t know if his mother was alive or his father had ever cared to find him but after so much time, the answer to that question was rather obvious.

 After playing in the garden with a bucket and a plastic shovel, he decided to go back inside, as dinner was only two hours away. He loved food and he loved to see how they did it. The ladies at the kitchens were very nice, although normally no child was let inside. They did exceptions all the time for Anthony, who loved to see how his favorite stew was made. He also loved the sounds of the machines, the chopping of vegetables and the gorgeous scents that filled the place.

 When he lay down in bed at night, in a room with at least five other kids, he often thought of food first and then he daydreamed about a family that would someday come for him. The older ones in the orphanage teased him sometimes, and told him he was already too old to be considered for adoption, as couple always preferred small children who they could raise for themselves.

 Anthony knew this was true because he had seen many of the young ones leave but he rarely saw an older kid do the same. But nevertheless, he was full of hope. Maybe his mother didn’t love him enough to keep him or maybe he was better off without her. That wasn’t important. But he knew he would love someone to teach him how to cook, to take him to school and to play with every day.

 Adults were strange all over, that much he knew. But he also thought that some of them were very nice, like the kitchen ladies. So every night he would dream about the family that would come for him. He always saw two people in his dreams but they never had defined faces or traits. They were just there, loving him in his dreams, been warm and making Anthony feel that, at last, he had a home. And that he was loved and was important to them.

High School

   I remember I sat down on a corner, by the stairs that came from the soccer field to the main yard, and just ate what I had just bought in the canteen. I believe I had a donut and some orange juice, as it was only a thirty-minute break. Those thirty minutes felt always like thirty hours. I just read something of some book I had in my backpack or looked at what others might be doing. But I stopped doing that quickly because I didn’t want anyone to think I was eavesdropping or something.

 Of course, I already liked boys back then but there was no desire or sexual tension of any sort. Not that I couldn’t be sexual but I thought of the school as a space free of that tension as I rapidly realized no one would correspond those feelings. Especially not the boys I thought were the cutest, normally those who played sports or had some sort of annoying attitude. Somehow that last thing made me look at them even more.

 I got really good at looking at guys without them, nor the annoying girls that always flocked around them, notice me. It’s a skill I still have although I don’t care anymore if a man, straight, gay or whatever, catches me looking at them. At the end of the day, it should be a compliment. Of course, any boy back then wouldn’t have taken it like that. I believe all guys in my school started dating when they were like fourteen but I’m not really sure. It just seemed like it.

 The girls, on the other side, were different. For the exception of some guys, all of them were exactly the same: sporty and mean spirited. But the girls were divided almost equally into two groups: nerdy or artistic kind of chicks and the popular girls. These last ones were only popular because of the money their parents had and because they had a bit more grace than any of the others. They were not especially cute or anything, they were just better actresses from a very young age.

 See, my last high school years were spent in a private school, which used to be very exclusive. Not everyone could get in as money and status were kind of mandatory to get in and if you didn’t have any of those, you had to be related to someone that could help you get in. It was that simple and everyone knew although no one ever spoke about it.

 So I was there, whether I wanted it or not, and I soon realized how much of a nightmare it would be. I had never been great in large groups and there were at least eight groups of the same grade, each one consisting of twenty-five people. That was intimidating and the worst part was, every years groups changed. So you could end up with that person that looked at you as if he had shit under his nose, or you could end up making new friends.

 All right, now we have to clarify that word, that social networking has prostituted in an awful way. A friend is a person that you trust and that trusts you back, who knows all about you and you know all about him or her. Of course the word “all” is not literal, but you get my drift. I think the key to a friendship is trust and that means being real, being just as you are with that person and that person thinking you’re amazing because you are who you are.

 Well, I never really felt I had friends in school. Never. I had good school companions, whose company made the days less annoying and the classes a bit less boring. But I wouldn’t call them friends. They never really knew me and I don’t blame them because I never let them know who I was or who I wanted to be. I think it was, especially towards the end, a huge collaboration effort to make school a bit more fun and bearable.

 They were all women, in my case. Girls that, like me, felt a bit in the edge of the social circles that had formed with the years in that school and we just got along fine because we were all eager to finish up and leave forever. I always related more to women because I found them less intimidating. Even today, I still look more for the support of a women that from a man. Back then, as well as today, I feel intimidated by men. Why? Very easy answer: because there’s always competition between men and I have always hated to compete, as I know I’m no match for anyone.

 Yes people, that was when my self-esteem problems began. I mean, I can maybe trace them back a bit more but high school just compressed al my fears and anxieties into one place. Sports were the worst. Playing football, basketball or even badminton was a torture for me. Not only because I absolutely hate exercising but because it put me in the spotlight. Many will know how awful it feels to be chosen at the end I always ended up being the last or next to last one to be chosen for any game.

 Of course, if that happened today, I wouldn’t mind. I would not play actually and I would have a witty response to anything someone told me. I can be very abrasive but that is a perfect answer in many cases. But back then; it was not a choice to be like that. I wasn’t fun enough to just make a fun statement. The reality was that I was a shy boy and I’d rather shut up that say anything to anyone. I felt bad enough as myself, because of all the pressure around. There was no need to make it worse if I could avoid it.

In class, it was different because there was no interaction between students. All you had to do was stare at the teacher and answer if you were questioned. No, I wasn’t shy because I was smart. I wasn’t smart at all. Besides a few dates and country names I had learned from reading, there was not much more I could bring to any class. Literature, funny enough, was a torture. A load of books I didn’t understand made me miserable. I never read all of them to be honest. That reminds me; in my school all classes were taught in French so it wasn’t as easy as you might have thought.

 Then of course, I had my “nemesis” course: mathematics. To say that I sucked in that class would be a large understatement. I never got anything past the divisions. I only understood equation two years after we had seen them, which of course, was a bit too late. What I always hated was when the teachers said that mathematics would always be necessary in daily life so it was imperative that we got good grades. I never got more that a twelve over twenty, and that was not very often. As for my daily life, I never use equations. Thank God, I’m not a rich man.

 Like later in life, they would always scare us with exams and tests and so on. And, ignorant as one is when young, we would all be scared of them. It’s a natural response that now, I know, is just to make you feel in a rush, in order to be on the lookout for anything. Tests only get easy when you know your answers and how do you that? By understanding in class. Studying at home doesn’t do shit. And sorry if someone disagrees but I’m a strong believer that if you get it the first time, that’s the time that counts.

 At home, I had my TV and Internet. There was no YouTube craze by then, nor Facebook or Twitter. But you could get distracted with chat rooms and even pornography. I cannot say I didn’t check that out when I was younger, it would be a lie. And besides that, the Internet had stories and videogames and news to offer. So I was driven to that and not to study math that was complicated and that, by age sixteen, I had given up to. To this day, it annoys me to see a lot of numbers in a sheet of paper.

 As we all did, I’m sure of it. I handled on one side my home life and, on the other, my school life. That’s why I hated seeing people from school in the supermarket or in a mall. I felt they were invading my space, the one were I felt more at ease, where laughing did not feel out of place. You might think I’m being exaggerated but that’s how I felt. That’s why being parent to a teenager is hard: it’s a person that’s feeling so many things at the same time and they often have no idea how to handle it all.

 In secret, and I’m sure many did the same; I was looking forward to the end of high school, the graduation ceremony. People often say how that time of your life is perfect because there was nothing to be worried, you get to have lots of friends, first loves and you were just happy all around. But that is a filthy awful lie, because it’s not the same for everyone. I wasn’t happy there, at all. I didn’t have any friends and, much less, loves. I wanted to get away from there and once I did I made sure to live a life I could say “Well, it may be crappy but this is mine and I’m me. And if you don’t like it, fuck off”.

We danced

   And we just danced. We did it all night long and all over the gardens. It was funny to practice this way, in a real palace, with someone who could understand how awful I was at it. The movie required me to dance with a beautiful princess for a few minutes (seconds in the movie) and I really wanted to nail it. So they brought someone to help us and there he was. It was ridiculous to have known him for so many years and, at the same time, having no idea who he really was.

 Our dance teacher was Alexander Frost. I had seen him for the first time the day I arrived at high school. The thing was that that place was my third high school. Because of my parents work I had to go from here to there. But this was the one where I would do my last two years and then it would be off to college, wherever that might be. I saw Alex that first day but didn’t thought anything of him. Not once, during those two years, did I really speak to him. Maybe greet him in the hall if I happened to be late for class or in the bathroom but that was it.

 And now, here he was. I’m afraid I never cared about my fellow classmates in high school. It was clear for me that the friends I had made there were only temporary. I didn’t want anything to do with them after finishing the time I had to spend there. This may seem like a hash thing to say but I was just fed up with all the moving and changing. College would be another change and, for me at least, it would be my real ticket into having friends and so on. I just had to jump those last hurdles to get there.

 Besides, and I should have said this before, people in my high school were not precisely interesting nor the nicest. I know my parents tried to do their best so they put me in the best school they could think of. Academically speaking, it certainly was. I learned a lot more than many others did at that age but, nevertheless, school is not only for learning. School is supposed to be the place where you make those first social connections and when you get into society as such. Well, I didn’t.

 When I got to college, I was the happiest person in the world. Also very frightened and shy but happy nonetheless. I wanted to make it big in life so I took my film studies pretty seriously. I worked hard and did everything that was asked from me and even more. Of course, I created my first social links here and it was a lot easier than in school, where everything seemed so convenient and mandatory. Not in college. There, I felt I could be anyone and no one would mind and some would even like me that way.

 So when I first so Alex on set, I felt myself going back to school. I cannot lie: it felt like being stabbed and bleeding profusely for hours. I know how it sounds but I hated high school. I hated it. I felt like a mouse constantly trying to survive, running around, feeling a thousand eyes on me and then none at the same time. I felt scared and hopeless every single day there. And that was the same thing I felt when Alex came on set: insecurity and anxiety.

 We had been rehearsing for hours that day and I think, because I was tired, I did not properly realize what had happened. So that night I slept like a baby and didn’t even think of the whole thing. But next morning, it was like being back in high school. I’m not proud to say that I had to vomit early in the morning. It was lucky that I hadn’t had that much to eat. I brushed my teeth and got on set smiling and trying to be the same that the day before but that was clearly impossible.

 Mistake after mistake, the director would correct me. He’s such a great person but even I knew I was sucking hard. I was awful every single and he got tired. He told all of us that instead of rehearsal we would have our first dance lesson. My co-star, Veronica, was a very experienced dancer. She had worked in theater for a long time so she knew her way around the dance floor. But me, I had no idea. And it was then when the director brought Alex in and, shame on me, I laughed.

 It has to be one of the most awkward moments of my life. I didn’t laugh for hours or anything, it was just one laugh and then closing my mouth and noticing how everyone was looking at me as if I had killed someone right there. Then I greeted Alex and we just went on with the lesson. He said it was better if I danced with him first and then Veronica. So that day she left early and we were left alone to practice like mad. Soon, I forgot everything about high school and the weird moment that had occurred before. I wanted to be good, great even, in this movie so I really focused on getting it right.

 This went on for two more weeks. Meanwhile, we would shoot other scenes in other places. We traveled to Vienna for the filming and it was so beautiful we all felt we had already won several awards. After a particular difficult morning of filming, the director decided we could have the afternoon of. We would begin again the next morning but then Alex appeared, out of nowhere, and told me I had to practice hard as the next day would be the shooting of the dance scene.

 Surprisingly, he told Veronica to go and rest. I had already danced with her a couple of times by then and I thought it was very odd not to practice with her for the last time. I danced with Alex in a room they lend us at the palace where the filming was taking place and it was just amazing. I almost felt myself float and Alex told me I was doing a great job. We also went outside, to the gardens, and danced there, as another scene would take place down there. The place was really quiet and we only stopped when a security guard came to see what was going on.

 The next day, I rocked the dancing scene. We did it again a few times and Veronica hugged me hard when we finished. She was thrilled that the scene had gone so smoothly. We watched it a couple of times on a small screen and everything looked great: the lights, the costumes, the production design and, of course, our dancing. We went back home a couple of days later, having wrapped up the movie. I knew it would be a great piece one they had it finished and I looked forward the premiere.

 Back at my house, I was surprised to see that Alex had sent me a box containing a big bar of chocolate, raisins covered in chocolate, a video game and a paper that happened to be a printed email in which a restaurant confirmed a reservation in his name. He had highlighted the name of the place, the address and the time. So naturally, I was confused. A guy was practically asking me out. But that wasn’t really the problem. The thing was that bar of chocolate had always being my favorite, I loved raisins covered with chocolate and the video game was one I had always wanted but never had.

 I went to the restaurant, trying not to look like I had tried too hard with my clothes. He was already there so we sat down and ordered and then started talking about the movie, the dancing, exchanging data for future work opportunities and, finally, his gift box. Then, as we were having our main courses, he looked at me and I noticed his eyes were watery and his skin was a bit red. He doubted of his words but finally asked me if I knew who he was.

 It was funny because I realized then that I had never told him anything about high school. We just got the lessons going and that was it. We hadn’t said a word about the past and now he was asking about it. So I answered:

-               - Of course I know.

-               - Why didn’t you say something? – He said, almost scolding me.

         - It happened so long ago. I don’t like to remember those days.

 Then he shed a tear and, before I could ask anything else, he changed the subject and came back to his old self from the movie set. We had a nice dinner and he even took me home. Just as I had opened my door, my cellphone started ringing in my coat pocket. It wasn’t an incoming call but and SMS. I almost dropped it when I read it. It was from Alex.

-            -  I have loved you for all these years. Sorry. Have a nice sleep.