Chris sat in his room. There was a movie playing on his DVD that he had willingly put on but decided to ignore it. There was too much on his mind, so he reached for a pen and paper, like he used to do. 

Dear Mom, 

I have been reading up on the statistics. It says that children who are brought up in broken homes are 50% more likely to have broken homes themselves. So that’s it, huh? That’s just what my life is supposed to be like from now on? What about Shilo? Is that life now too? We don’t have to kid ourselves, we both know that I haven’t had the best relationship with any girl I’ve ever dated, and there are only so many girls in Portsmouth I can date anyway. I guess I have a lot of questions that I want you to answer. I want you to tell me why it is that you came to Portsmouth with Dad if you wanted more? Why did you have me? Why the fuck did you have Shilo? Am I supposed to run away too, is that just what we’re going to do? Is Dad our enemy? Because I think we can both agree that if there’s someone I take to, it’s you. 

So what am I supposed to do?

Chris 

Chronicle No. 1:   Okay.

He kept running. He didn’t care where he was going but he just kept on running. The street lights became a blur as his eyes filled with tears, the ones he’d been holding back for so long. He finally slowed down when he knew he had made it outside the town. It was a very hard task, since he lived about a mile before the sign that indicated you were exiting Portsmouth. He walked and raised his hand to his head while he cought his breath. All he could think about was….what was he going to do now?

It is truly outstanding how when you are life seems to be crumbling to your feet, the most random of thoughts seem to pop into your head. He been humming the song his grandpa would sing to him when he was a baby. “I got friends in low places where the whiskey drowns and the beer chases my blues away…” Somehow that managed to calm him down again. Somehow, he felt like he wasn’t alone. He reached into his back pocket and opened the letter.

Chris, I hope that by now you know that I have tried my very best. I know it is times like these when people seem not to be able to find the horizon, but it’s there. I know you will be able to find, you are my son. Today and always, do not run away from your problems. They have a tendency to find you, regrouped and stronger, so tackle them. As hard as you can. Your father and I have our differences and we have worked hard to meet and clear them off the table, but as I’m sure you have noticed, it takes a tole on a person. It is important to me that you know that I am not running away from you or your brother, I have lost myself. As cliché as that sounds. I need to redeem all the moments and opportunities I didn’t take. If you need to hate me, I understand that too. But I fully intend to find you one day, and hopefully when that day comes you will be done hating me so I can love you as fiercely as I ever have.

Mia.

Chris almost laughed. That bitch, he thought, she finally did it. Chris almost instinctively knew what his role in the house was going to be from the moment his dad gave him the letter. He would be the glue. He’d have to hold everything down for everyone. Thats why he ran. He couldn’t let his dad or Shilo see him break down right there and then. He couldn’t and he was sure this was the best call to make. His baby brother Shilo was almost 9 and…well, Chris remembered what is was like to be 9. Did he know his mother wanted to leave? Kind of. He always saw the way she envied people taking long trip to Paris or taking a sabbatical in Israel. And she loved to watch the fancy cars that passed by Portsmouth, with the rich college kids that were touring around New England. So in a way he did know, that she wanted to leave but he never thought she had the balls to do it. He walked home after that. After that little freak out, he actually felt better. Calmer. But he knew there was a storm coming, a big one. He hummed, “I’ll be okay…”