Next Great American Dream

The Apple Tree

The apple tree grew tall that season. It bloomed from its deep roots within the earth to over 25 feet high, and taller than it had ever grown before. That spring it grew the biggest apples it had ever grown before and casted a shadow of protection from the sun on all who laid underneath it.

Anya said, “Thank you for the shade.” Daily she gave thanks to the apple tree for it was her favorite place to lay. Layla stared at it, from the trunk to the highest branch she could see. Laying down on the ground, her back feeling the itch of the green grass and loose leaf branches that fell from the tree before her. With her skin so fragile and pale, the sun was not good for her skin. But the shade of the apple tree, now that was good.

Anya said, “Thank you for this apple.” She took an apple that had just fallen to the ground, still crisp and so luscious green that it camouflaged with the grass surrounding her. She called the tree her miracle tree and called the apples her golden apples. And so she waited every spring for the final bloom of the apple tree. Life was not always sweet to her. But the taste of the apples were the sweetest thing she had ever experienced.

Anya said, “I will always protect you.” Now she was rubbing her soft hand against the hard core of the tree trunk. She didn’t care that it was rough, that it even caused her hand to turn red. The tree was alive, and as long as it was alive and well, Anya knew she could be too. Something about the tree, growing alongside her in this small town, gave her life. The apple tree was the most alive thing in this town, even more alive than her.

Finally, Anya said, “Goodnight my apple tree.” The sun was falling in the sky slowly, but surely. The day was going and the night was approaching. It was getting darker later in the evening, but that did not mean night would not come. Anya found it mesmerizing how one moment she could see every crevice of the trunk and every leaf on the branches, and suddenly, but without doubt, she could not. She could only feel it, but feeling it wasn’t enough, so when she could no longer see the apple tree, she called it a night.

So it was her evening routine, but it was also her favorite part of the day. She always compared the tree to herself. Of course she didn’t tell anyone else that they would think she was crazy, but sometimes she felt like whoever had created her, they had taken just a tad bit of an apple tree to make her too. Silly thought, but weren’t trees living things too?

Thus the apple tree had characteristics that reminded Anya of herself. It was that when an apple tree grew, it matured a specific way and it tolerated water and weather a certain way. An apple tree developed and changed as it developed, just as Anya changed and developed as she grew up. When she was five years old, that was the first time she took a first bite of an apple from this apple tree. And now, at the age of 10, Anya saw all that the apple tree had gone through. And when she looked in the mirror each spring, for comparison, she saw all that she had gone through too.

Anya whispered before falling asleep that night, “It is the game of life. A life of nature, and a life of humanity on this God forsaken earth.”

Anya and Curtis

The girl was born six years after the Russian nuclear accident that occurred at the No. 4 reactor in the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant. The disaster resulted in approximately 4,000 disaster-related deaths. At two years old, the girl was found in a hospital with a scar on her hand. No one came for her, so she became an orphan. The Russian girl was abandoned, something that she didn’t remember, but new it would affect her one day.

Somewhere in America, a man and a woman couldn’t have children, so they chose to adopt.

Three years later, the big eyed, chubby, four-year-old Russian girl was adopted. She grew up a good girl, always trying to be good enough. She did this because she didn’t want to be hurt. She didn’t want to be left, not again.

Her given name was Anya Jean. Anya was short for her Russian birth name, Anastasia. Jean was the surname of her American adopted family. Sometimes she went by Anya, and sometimes AJ. She liked AJ though, it sounded more like an American name, and she grew up in the land of the free. She grew up hearing all about the “American Dream”.

Now, Curtis Hayward was a Native American Indian boy. He grew up right off the bank of Shawano County, Wisconsin in a small town called Cecil where the population was 466 and best known for its public service picnics, dinners and access to Shawano Lake.

Shawano County used to contain one of the finest demographics of pine trees in the world. Chief Sawanoh and his band were the first to reside on the land of what is now Shawano Lake, and whom it is named after.

The residents of the Shawano Country, including the Hayward family, were very proud of their Menominee Indian Tribe heritage and long-standing traditions. And yet, where the roots were strong, the inevitable changes of the United States and its status got the best of the Hayward family. Curtis watched the “American Dream” affect his family, tearing them apart from the outside in. He promised at 16, he would leave and would refuse the norms of life. He would do what he wanted, testing his own way of life.

“A woman and a man will one day leave their homes and find a home in each other.” Mrs. Hayward would say.

“Not me.” Curtis would respond, and give his mother a look of disgust. He didn’t understand but she would just shake her head and smile, knowing better.

“No one should go through this world alone. The bible says it so.” She would then say.

“I will never need a woman.” Curtis would say, looking up at his father, waiting for his validation.

“Women and men are not equal.” Mr. Hayward would speak up, and Curtis would nod. Not too long after, Mr. Hayward and Mrs. Hayward filed for a divorce.

Both Anya and Curtis couldn’t wait to leave their mother and father. They wanted independence, but they didn’t realize how much one would depend on the other. How much one day, a boy and girl would have to depend on each other.

The Mirror

The girl looked in the mirror. Judging every part of her as society had told her to do. Her hair wasn’t as long or full as her friends. Her eyes were pretty, but who really looked at people in the eyes anymore? She had a nice smile and straight teeth, but it was distracted by the round face she had. Her face was not the chiseled jawline that so many people craved. She looked down at her body. Her shoulders were broad. She had an athlete’s body with a bigger bust, no hips and skinny legs. It was a good body, but the perfect body? Of course not, and that was what everyone strived for: perfection. It was the way she was born, no matter if perfection looked different in each individuals’ eyes.

It is said that a mirror made one see a better version of themselves because it reflected what they saw every day, and hence created a perception that of an original image. How was a mirror allowed to lie, but she was not supposed to?

Anya said, “Mirror, mirror on the wall, why do you keep deceiving me after all?”

…

The glass shattered before he even knew what he was doing. The pieces scattered all over the bathroom floor now, Curtis had to be careful where he stepped. That was dumb, being barefoot right now. The anger inside slowly started to settle, but the pain in his knuckles only grew. It wasn’t his first time, but his knuckles hadn’t healed completely from the last time so it actually kind of bothered him.

Seeing only pieces of himself through the shattered mirror, he knew he would be in trouble again. If only his parents and brother would stop telling him what to do. He didn’t care that his brother was 10 years older than him or that his parents were ‘adults’. He hated more than anything when they treated him like a child. He was 16, so he was not a child.

If anything, he was already a young adult. He knew he was more mature than half of his friends, and it was his choice of who he lived with. His mom telling him he was moving tomorrow to Kentucky with her new boyfriend? Hell if he went with her.

Curtis grabbed his phone and texted his friend to come pick him up. He didn’t care if it was 2AM. He would pack his things up, and have his friend come pick him up. Then he would go live with his dad. Yes, that is what he would do.

Curtis stared hard at his reflection in the broken mirror one last time, then said under his breath before he walked out, “Fuck you.”

…

Red. The color of blood. Obviously. But as Anya looked at her own wrist where she saw the cut, she somehow thought the color was… perfect. Its vibrancy and depth of its reddish exposure just as it seeped out, surprised me. How was that actually running through her veins? It was crazy. Did that make her crazy? She did not know. But she did sure think about it.

She heard a knock on the door, and the razor fell to the ground. She kicked it quickly under the shower mat and looked at myself in the mirror. She smiled. Then she stopped. It was hard for her to keep faking that smile, but as long as she did that, no one would ask questions. No one would see the real her, and that was fine by her.

There was another knock on the door. She grunted, looked at the door and started to turn the handle while forcing that smile back on her face. Like a mask. It didn't feel right, but that was what everyone wanted to see.

Then she gasped and remembered. Her heart started pounding, but thankfully she caught herself. She pulled her sleeves from her sweater down, and finally, opened the door, just as another knock started.

"Boo!" Anya said, as her brother stood outside the door annoyed.

"You were in there long enough." She watched Nicolas roll his eyes, and Anya rolled her eyes too, but in a joking manner. Her brother was not.

Not knowing how to get back in there without looking suspicious, Anya prayed that he did not look under the mat as she walked past him, shielding her red face. Surely not. After all, he was a boy so a razor, even open, could easily be mistaken for a shaving mishap.

Anya started scratching underneath her sweater sleeve, the cuts beginning to burn now. She felt a small release of stress, but it lasted very momentarily. If only her brother hadn't needed to use the bathroom. Maybe she didn’t do enough cuts.

She got to her room and closed the door. She turned her computer back on and stared at the screen again. All their posts on social media. Her friends, smiling and happy, and together. Immediately, she felt stressed again. Anya rubbed her wrists again, and the burning feeling lingered. She rubbed it harder, and the burning sensation heightened. She cringed and stopped rubbing it. Too much.

It was her friends at school who made her want to try it. Some of them cut themselves to get some high off of it, but as Anya did the same, there was no high. Only pain and fascination with the anatomy in which her body contained to even breathe another day. Maybe that was not the route to go. Just maybe.

…

“Psst.” Curtis heard the noise outside of his window. Heart pounding with excitement and somewhat of a relief that his friend actually came, he threw himself off the bed, grabbed his backpack and crawled through the window.

“Hurry, my mom is pissed.” Matty said, standing right outside the window shining his phone flashlight just enough so that Curtis could see where he was landing. Curtis gave his friend a hug, truly grateful that he drove two hours to come get him so early in the morning.

“Thanks dude, I owe you, and your mom, big time.” As he got in the car, he saw a dim light turn on in his mothers bedroom. He didn’t look back.

Curtis sat in the backseat of the car, as his close friend Matty fell asleep and his mom drove. The reflection of the yellow markings on the road were almost translucent to him. It was like he was tripping out, his eyes were so wide. He knew this was the right decision, and yet something in his gut made him feel almost sick to his stomach.

“Are you okay Curtis? You look like you are about to puke.” Mattys' mom asked, meeting his gaze in the rearview mirror.

“Yes, I just forgot to eat today. Been stressed, I guess.” He replied as calmly as possibly, and she nodded.

“Here, Matty brought an apple, but clearly he is not going to eat it.” She reached back and handed a gold, crisp apple to Curtis. Very appreciative, he took it and nodded.

Curtis respected her for not asking questions. He knew that Matty had clearly told her something, but he did not feel like talking about it. Or talking at all for that matter. All of his friends knew of his parents' divorce, and how much of a toll it was taking on his life. And he hated it. It made him so angry. He was always so angry now, and he didn’t know how to control it.

Realizing anger was filling him again, he noticed the tight squeeze around the apple now in his hands. He didn’t like favors, but he really was hungry. Looking at the apple, he felt a small soft spot from where he had put more pressure. It was no longer a good apple.

He had hurt the apple with his hands, unintentionally but still so. He then thought back to the light flickering on in his mothers bedroom as they drove off. Curtis wondered what she would think or do when she noticed he was gone. Would that hurt her too? Or did she even care. He didn’t care if he hurt her…

After taking a big bite of the apple, the hard clump of texture going down his throat uneasy since he didn’t chew it enough, he felt guilty. So before turning off his phone, not wanting to think about anything, he grabbed his phone and sent one single message: “Going to live with dad.”

The phone immediately went off, and he read his mothers reply: “May God be with you.”

“Please.” Curtis said under his breath.

“What was that?” Matty’s mom spoke up.

“Thank you.” He made up, and she nodded then turned her eyes back to the road.

Matty and Michael

Matthew, or Matty for short and Micheal were identical twins. Michael didn’t go by a nickname, he liked the name Michael and got pissed when people called him Mike. He said there were too many people who went by Mike and he didn't want to be like everyone else.

Now Matty played sports, and Michael was the smart one. They grew up one and the same. They went to the same school, wore matching clothes until they were old enough to realize how lame that was, and they had the same friends. Matty was the social one and Michael was the chill one.

They were favored by their teachers, their parents and anyone else they met. The only thing they were not both favored equally was when it came to girls. Matty got the cheerleaders, and Michael got the quiet, sweet ones. Though he rarely said it, Michael didn’t want the quiet, sweet ones. He wanted “the girl next door”. In other words, he wanted the girl that his brother was now dating.

Sally was stunning, beautiful and the head cheerleader. Michael had had a crush on her since the 1st grade, but she was not as pretty then. They were close friends who joked about dating when they got older, and now they were all going into their senior year of high school. Now, she was beautiful and Matty was popular. So of course, now, Michael was in the ultimate friend zone.

“Is Matty here?” Sally asked with a smile when she saw Michael open the door. Micheal looked at the girl he was in love with standing there, beautiful as ever, but asking for the wrong brother.

“Hey Sally. Yeah, he is out back playing catch with Curtis.” Michael said sullenly. She and Matty hadn’t been dating long, so his attitude toward her had just started to change.

“What is wrong?” She asked. She gave him a small nudge as he stood to the side to let her in and the sensation of where she had just touched him in the arm, lingered.

“Nothing. Just been studying for the LSAT so I was out of it.”

“Did you get into law school?” She stopped walking to the backyard and asked. He shrugged, not wanting to tell her. He hadn’t told anyone.

“Did you?” She asked again, raising her eyebrows at him, knowing she could read him. He liked when she did this. She looked cute.

“I know when you are keeping things from me Michael. We have been close since we were kids, remember? You can tell me.” She went on, and finally he caved.

“Yes, I did. Don’t tell Matty though. He doesn't know I applied out of state. Curtis and I.” He said, staring behind her now to make sure he was still outside and couldn’t hear.

Sally smiled, and put her finger to her lips. She made a gesture of sealing and locking her lips, gave a wink at Micheal, then turned to walk to the back. Michael watched her. Even with the impressiveness of him getting into law school, she still chose his brother. She would always choose him, and in that moment, Michael realized there was nothing he could do about it.

What was it they said? Nice guys always finish last.

From Nicolas to Raquel

The family line was insane. It didn’t make sense, when Nicolas brought home Raquel with the news that she was pregnant. Anya couldn’t believe it, and her parents couldn’t believe it. Her brother, adopted or not, was going to be a father at 17. Anya was 18, about to go to college, and there her brother, Nicolas, was coming in with a girl who looked like white trash to be part of their family now. It was so Kentucky. Bullitt County that is. What a name.

Nicolas was also adopted. He and Anya were not blood related, but they were both from Russia. They were not close, not at all. People didn’t understand their dynamic, but they didn’t get it. What would you do if you get forced to live together as ‘brother and sister’ with someone that you just do not get along with. Their personalities just did not mesh, no matter how much they were pressured to call each other siblings. There was a thing called conditional and unconditional love. Anya loved him, but she didn’t have any unconditional attachment to him.

“I have a big family.” Raquel started, and Anya was not sure why she was saying this. No one asked about her family, and by the looks of everyone but her brother, no one actually cared.

And so Raquel went on, explaining her family dynamic, as the eyes of Anya and the Jean family grew and grew the more she talked. She was not like them, not at all. This was Raquels family line:

When Raquels grandmother had her mom, she was not married. Her baby daddy left her to fend for herself and for Raquel's mom, Mo. Mo grew up watching her mom find man after man to help support them, whatever it took. It was then that Mo learned that there were ways to test society. She not only found out, but encouraged Mo to follow the ‘survival of the fittest’ mentality. And of course, what daughter doesn’t listen to their mother?

Mo became a dominatrix girl, shaving half her hair and adding some dye to make herself look, what they say, ‘dangerously sexy’. Mo figured out that it wasn’t about how many children to screw the system, but how many fathers she could have to help pay child support and put them down as dependents. She learned that if she was always pregnant, she didn’t have to work.

Mo had Raquel from one dad, who soon became a no show. Her next dad was an illegal immigrant, and they had four more children after that. Raquel never worked a day of her life, except supporting her siblings. And now, at the age of 16, she was not only pregnant with Nicolas’ baby, but her mother, Mo was pregnant again. So, Mo and Raquel, mother and daughter, were going to have children at the same time. Niece and Aunt growing up together.

It wasn’t like Raquel told this to Anya and her parents, but by reading between the lines, it was not hard to decipher their lifestyle.

To say 'you made your bed, now lie in it' was an understatement. Now, we all had lie in it.