I started walking without a destination.  I knew this neighborhood well enough that I knew where I was.  After rounding the corner, I quickly ducked away into a little shop and walked towards the back so I was hidden.  I was pretty sure I heard Vanessa come after me.  I felt really bad that I was making Vanessa's life harder.  She'd been so nice to me, but I just didn't fit in.  She thought I was messed up, too.  They both wanted to fix me.

"Can I help you find anything?" The store worker asked me.

I started looking around at the inventory to make it look like I'd come in here on purpose.  "No thanks.  Just browsing," I told her.  I saw Vanessa walk by the store, looking frazzled.  A few minutes later, she came back the other way, so I made my exit.  I walked up the street, put in my earbuds, and just kept going.

My feet took me to the skateboard park.  I didn't have my skateboard, but I could still watch.  I perched myself on a nearby rock and listened to some angsty music.  A couple months ago, I was where I belonged.  I knew what was expected of me and I knew how my neighborhood worked.  I went to a school I knew and did what I wanted.  Being a kid really sucked sometimes.  I had no control over what was happening to me.

I got another call from Lin and immediately hit decline.  A text message came through.

                Take a walk for a while, then come home.

At least he realized I needed some space.  I sat there for a long time and the sun was beginning to come down.  I watched the buildings nearby be set with a background of blue, then darker blue, purple and pink, and then almost black.  It was past dinner time, but I wasn't hungry.  As I saw the first few stars come out, I noticed Lin walking across the park.  I sighed.

He sat down on the rock next to me and didn't say anything for a while.

"I take it you've never been to therapy," he said as we watched a couple kids in the park.  The lights had come on, and there were bugs buzzing around the lightbulbs.

"Nope," I said.  "Minimum wage doesn't get very good benefits."

"I have," he told me.  I was surprised and looked at him.  "When I was a kid.  I had some trouble fitting in.  Good way to make a writer."

I nodded in agreement.  "Did it help?"

"Yeah," he said.  "The therapist gave me some ways to deal with it."

"Kids like me don't go to therapy," I told him.

"What kind of kid are you?"

"A freak.  I'm unlovable."

He sighed.  "You're not a freak, and I love you like crazy."

"You have to because you're my dad," I pointed out.

"Every kid should have at least one adult in their lives who loves them like crazy," he went on.  "You need someone looking out for you and who loves you even when you mess up majorly."

I sighed, and I had to admit it felt good that he loved me even though he'd only known I'd existed for a couple months now.  Most adults steered clear of me if they could, but he was hanging around.

"Are you mad at me?"  He didn't seem mad, but he had an odd way of being calm when my mother would have been screaming at me.

"No," he said.  "I understand why you ran away.  I wish you hadn't, but it is what it is."

"Do I have to go back?"

"Do you think it would be a good idea?"

I shrugged.  It probably would be, but I didn't like it.

"What if it actually helps you?  Hmm?  Have you thought about giving it a real chance?"

"But I'm just gonna be back with my mom.  It'll be the same as before."

"But you'll have some new tools in your bag," he pointed out.

"Tools I can't use in my neighborhood," I reminded him.

"I think that's where you're wrong," he said.  "You don't have to wear that tough exterior of yours all the time.  People will respect you if you know how to talk."

I rested my forehead on my hands, my knees pulled up.  He gave my back a few pats.

"What do you say we head home?"

I nodded and he helped me stand up.  We walked back across the street to the apartment together. 

The boys had already been put down for the night and Vanessa was cleaning up the kitchen.

"Your plate is in the microwave," she told me.  I nodded and opened up the door.  Enchiladas and Spanish rice.  I set the timer for two minutes and got myself a glass of water.  As I sat down at the table by myself with my plate, I watched Vanessa.  She didn't seem mad either.  It was like they just let me be with my issues.  It was normal and okay.

Vanessa tossed the sponge she'd been using in the sink and walked over to the table with her phone.  "I heard about this book the other day," she began.  "It's about this teenager who's a skateboarder."

She pulled up a page on Goodreads and handed me the phone.  I started scrolling through, reading the summary.  It seemed like something I would like.

"Cool," I told her, passing her phone back.

"You could put it on hold at the library," she suggested.  I nodded.

"Sorry I ran away," I told her quietly as I pushed my rice around.

"I understand," she said gently.  "It's a lot to take in.  And we weren't trying to gang up on you.  It's just that we really need to work past this violence thing.  That's the most concerning."

"I know," I admitted.

"What happens when you get violent?" She asked me.  "I mean, do you get an overwhelming feeling of rage inside?"

"Sometimes," I told her.  "Most of the time, no. It's just what I've always done."

"Is that how your mom dealt with her anger?"

"Yeah," I said.  "She got angry quick."

"Was she ever violent with you?"

I nodded and my mind flashed back to the many occasions, uncountable really, that she'd hit me over the years.  Starting out as a little kid, all the way up to the week she'd been arrested.  I probably deserved a lot of it.  I knew I had a smart mouth.

Vanessa reached over and put a reassuring hand on my arm. "I'm sorry that happened to you," she said sympathetically.  "No one deserves that."

I thought about the difference in that moment between Vanessa and my mother.  Vanessa was so kind and gentle.  She seemed genuinely concerned and wanted to help me.  I knew my mother loved me, but she didn't know how to handle me.  When she didn't know what to do, she had a tendency to just disappear or be violent.  I could never imagine Vanessa raising a hand to me or the boys.  How could two mothers be so different?

I finished off my plate and took it to the kitchen to rinse it off, then added it to the dishwasher.  I still had some homework to do so I disappeared into my room.  Even though it was already late, I knew I had to write before I could get any homework done.

                A hug instead of a slap.

                A kind word instead of dismissal

                A talk instead of yelling

                Therapy instead of fighting

                Yin and yang, battling in my brain

                My past is comfortable, what I'm used to

                It doesn't feel good, but it's what I know

                Do I let in the yin?

                Do I dare when I know it will be taken away from me?

                How will I cope with the yang when I've experienced yin?

                How will I survive in a world that demands yang, when I'm starting to prefer the yin?