Photo courtesy of Pixland via Free Images
"Where did we go wrong in raising him?" My mother's voice penetrated through the walls.
"Last week, he held party here without our permission. Now, he's cutting classes to smoke with his friends," she continued.
They've been scolding me since we got in the car, coming from the principal's office this afternoon. This continued until we got home. The pasta for dinner was paired with more scolding and lectures. I swear, the drama is tiring, but I got used to it. Just let everything go in one ear and out the other.
"I'll talk to him again tomorrow," my father said. "Let everything cool down for now."
As if they would see me tomorrow. I've been packing my clothes into my bag after they sent me to my room.
I waited for them to fall asleep, typically around midnight or 1 am, while watching a movie to kill my boredom. After watching, I just left my phone together with my ATM card, even though I didn't have cash,just to avoid getting tracked.
It was already 1:30 am on Saturday morning, so I exited my bedroom, avoiding the wooden door's creaking. And I walked down the stairs on tiptoes. I left a note in the fridge stating that their scapegoat son is fleeing and will succeed in starting a new life on his own.I grabbed a snack I found in the fridge and sneaked out of the house.
I walked and walked, getting farther from my home and closer to a new city. I found a cargo truck getting fixed on the side of the freeway and had a chat with the driver. I hitchhiked on his truck, going towards a new city and hoping to get there alive. I didn't want to go to my relatives and friends because they would probably snitch on me.
"Wake up!" the driver said while shaking my body. "I'll go to my warehouse. You can now drop off here," he continued.
I thanked him for his help. I also thanked God that the driver wasn't a serial killer.
It's already morning and I'm hungry. I grabbed a sandwich and a carton of juice from my bag and enjoyed it. It will probably be my last proper meal for now because I don't have any money.
I hopped from establishment to another and inquired about any vacant positions I could apply for. There were vacancies in some places, but they won't accept me because I'm only seventeen and just a HS senior. This country indeed has high standards regarding employment. Imagine needing a degree to apply for dishwasher and helper jobs.
My eyes focused on the road while I moved from shop to shop, searching for plastic bottles, cardboard, and metals I could collect and sell in the junk shop. I was happy that I could collect a lot, which meant I could earn more; at the same time, I was sad about the citizens' improper waste disposal. At around noon, I sold the two kilos of plastic bottles, around four kilos of cardboard, and a kilo of scrapped metals and cans for a total of $2. I spent half my income on lunch in the eatery near the junk shop.
I went to the park and sat on the cardboard. I found some charcoal earlier and I smeared it on my face and body to become dirtier. I changed my clothes into my old faded ones and put some dirt and charcoal in them. I placed an empty tin can in front of me. I'll be begging for now, also a form of rest because I was just sitting.
Some passersby dropped some dimes and pennies in my can. Others offered food and drinks, which I gladly accepted. But the most memorable individual was the one who gave me $20. He was filming himself while giving a money, probably for a social media content. I wonder if he will still help without a camera.
I watched TikTok videos about people finding new stuff in the dumpster and also fresh and unexpired food. I wanted to try it, so I left the park after the night came and went to the downtown area and ate a burger for dinner.
I checked out the dumpster of the popular donut shop. There was a garbage bag containing donuts and other pastries, without traces of dirt or any smell. These were probably just made on this day and unsold. I think it was better to be donated to the food bank and to the homeless rather than to be wasted. I grabbed the bag containing donuts, my food for days.
I also went to the dumpsters of bookstores, toy shops, and convenience stores. I got some toys with dented boxes, books with slight fold marks, pens, and some unexpired crushed ramen noodles and crushed potato chips. It was sad to see some new objects just going to waste because of some small imperfections, but anyway, I can sell those at decent prices.
Photo courtesy of Nathan Dumlao via Unsplash
I went back to the park to sleep on the benches. I hugged my backpack containing my food, clothes, items to sell, and money to avoid it getting stolen.
It's Sunday morning. I woke up, ate donuts and crushed chips, and took a short bath in the public restroom in the park. I should look presentable when applying for a job.
It's still the same cycle, with additional change. Inquiring about and applying for aa job. Collecting bottles, cardboard, and metals to sell. Begging in the park. And selling my books, toys, and pens while begging and applying. I must hustle hard. I need to save money for capital for a business or an instrument for busking so I can earn more. I need to be successful on my own, one step at a time.
The night came again, time for dumpster diving. I met a homeless guy like me, just one year older than me. He was so friendly. We talked while checking dumpster to dumpster.
I learned that he dropped out of school and got addicted to cigarettes and alcohol, and that his parents were gone in the accident while looking for him. He didn't listen to his parents' advice and now regretted his life going off the rails. He advised me to go back to my home while I still had it.
His advice just went in one ear and didn't come out the other. It lives in my mind, rent free for a while, dumpster diving. I bade a farewell since he would explore the dumpsters until the morning.
On my way back to the park, I noticed that the homeless man walking in front of me was holding a newly bought long sausage sandwich. A child sitting in the card box excitedly called her name. Then the man sat with the child and the girl, probably his family.
I watched them as I slowly walked. The father opened the footling sandwich and divided it into three. It was noticeable that their daughter had the biggest part. He also offered his piece, but the child declined. And they all eat together with a smile on their faces. Despite hardships, they're strong and happy together.
I was melted by this experience. And a tear escaped my left eye. I realized how parents sacrifice a lot for their children. My parents just want what's best for me and to protect me. I've been childish and selfish in my actions.
It's true that you will only realize the value of something once it's gone. You will only appreciate the warmth of your home in the freezing weather, the roof over your head when it's raining, and the family around you when you're alone. I want to go back home. Still,home is where the heart is.
"Son!" I heard my father shouting behind me. My mother said, "We've been looking for you."
I tightly hugged them both and my drizzle of tears earlier became a rain.
I'm finally home.
Photo courtesy of Jack Sharp via Unsplash
It's my first time participating in the weekend engagement concept and second time posting here. I really had fun writing it because I project some of my opinions in some issues through the character and provided some moral lessons.