Life As I Play It

So we’re on lunch break today. Somehow we start talking about my past, and I make a transparent attempt to stop talking about it by saying; “You don’t want to know.” But of course, if they wanted to know so badly, I recommend they google my name. I make it public that I’m a writer, and publicity is publicity.

The two pages of game design and writer profiles isn’t enough to satisfy curiosity, so an intensive search begins to dig up my more notorious days. The most they’re able to turn up for free is that I’ve been in more than half the country in a very short amount of time. When they come to the state of Michigan, they learn that they cannot look at full court cases without paying for them. Apparently, this is the case when you’ve done something really, really wrong. This prompts one of my friends to look at me wide-eyed and say, “Avery, what did you do?”

Of course, I tell a little of the story. I like telling my stories. I enjoy telling of battles in which I thought I’d be killed, and racist cops who bit off more than they could chew when they unjustly tried to put me in handcuffs. I also love that despite it all, I went straight, and I haven’t been arrested in more than two years. Even better, I haven’t given the cops a reason to arrest me. That hasn’t stopped them from trying, of course…but I’ve only had one problem since I’ve been here, and a good friend of mine happens to be a cop. I get by.

The wolf’s coming full circle seemed to reach it’s zenith today when I was among half of my class “drafted” out of training. I was given my official workspace, to decorate as I see fit. I almost immediately put on the new green t-shirt, signifying me as a member of the “Green Team”.

I know this might not seem like a big deal to everyone else, but to me, it’s a symbol; I made a conscious effort to devote my energy to something positive and succeeded.

Later on, I was invited out to grab a beer with some friends (still feels weird to say, I’m so used to being a loner). We grabbed a forty-ounce of our choice, sat out on his jeep, and shotgunned our drinks as we celebrated the upcoming three-day weekend and time off of the phones.

Since I started writing this blog, I’ve had an hourlong conversation with my parents. After all the rage and hatred between me and my father, I told him something I’ve never said before.

“I’m sorry.”
I’m sorry for the way I acted as a child. I know I pushed him to his wits end. I may not have deserved everything I went through as a child, but I brought some of it on myself. We could butt heads from here until the end of time, but in the end, he was still my father, and I was still his son.

I still feel as though I could battle anyone, anytime, anywhere, and still at least put up a good fight. I have the energy to go fifteen rounds with anyone. I’ll always have the mentality–if not the body–of a fighter. I’ll never quit chasing my dreams, not ever. I’ll never stop fighting for the things I believe in, I will never stop rebelling against those who abuse their authority, and I will never change who I am simply to please someone else (not that I’m being asked to).

At the same time, I’m in my thirties, blessedly, and for the first time in a very, very long time, I am completely self-sufficient with what appears to be a brilliant literary career ahead of me.

Busterwolf no longer has nothing to prove. I’m no longer angry with my father, and I no longer want to be on the street.

My name is Avery K. Tingle. And it’s time I said my farewells to Neverland.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Modern Magic Enterprises LTD and Nomadic Productions LLC

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One can’t live in two worlds, I’m realizing. Eventually, you have to make a choice.

You also choose the friends that are worth fighting for.

I have two good friends; one of them enforces a system I don’t really believe in, yet we’re friends anyway. Another disagrees with the system as strongly as I do, but may have broken what is, in my opinion, an unbreakable law. I can’t prove if he did or didn’t; for a change, I did not blindly follow my first instinct, which would’ve led to violence. Instead, I thought things through.

While my law-enforcing friend became angry with me (for not doing the right thing), I stood against the world and desperately tried to convince my wayward friend to cease his involvement—any type of involvement—with an underage girl. In a few short weeks, he had gone from being in love with her to looking at her like a daughter. The thought of it made me want to vomit. How can you do this?! Who the hell are you and what have you done with my friend?!

I saw my friend and the underage girl together, physically flirting and whispering to one another when they thought nobody would notice. I convinced myself that it wasn’t what I knew it was.

Last week, I needed a ride to the career center. My wayward friend agreed to drive me. I had to be there at two; he showed up at a quarter till…with his underage friend in tow.

Millions of questions flooded my mind: Why was she there? Why wasn’t she in school? Why did she keep saying that they had just woke up?

I cut him off after that…for a minute. It’s the Christian thing to forgive, right? Ugh… Besides, it’s not like I was able to prove that he was doing anything illegal. Maybe he was just confused. Maybe someone is going to sell me the St. Louis Arch.

I cornered him, and demanded to know what was going on. I wondered if I was really fighting for him or just struggling to hold on to one of the first face-to-face friendships I’ve had in years.

He told me that he was dating the underage girl’s mother, and that he was spending time with her children in an attempt to get to know them better.

Avery: Thank God. That makes sense.
Busterwolf: You’re lying, and I know you’re lying, you sick f***.

I forgave him. We patched things up.

Yesterday, the girl’s mother happened to be at a friend’s house and I asked her, point blank, if she has been seeing Billy. She denied it. Of course.

I let my instincts guide me as she told me how she was sick of the rumor; she’s never done anything with Billy.

This means, the night we patched things up, someone I considered one of my closest friends lied to me yet again. He lied to me as he promised not to lie to me again.

Crushed, I realized the truth.

I headed home and tracked down my law-enforcing friend. We hadn’t spoken in awhile, and my message was simple: We need to talk.

When he showed up, he wasn’t in uniform, which was good: He would to talk to me as a friend, rather than as a cop. He was cordial as he entered my home and shook my hand. He knew why I had called him. When he took a seat on my couch, I unloaded like a dump truck.

No, I’ve never seen anything illicit between these two with my own eyes. Yes, I thought the situation was worth investigating. Yes, I had seen a lot of physical play between the two, and yes, I thought it was inappropriate. It’s been going on for about a month now…

I lied in a recent myspace survey; I think I cried last night. I know I kept wiping my eyes. I can’t believe I’m doing this.

My friend wrote down everything I said, then closed his notepad and folded his hands. He lowered his head for a moment and just exhaled; one doesn’t become numb to this kind of thing, and it’s a lot to take in.

He looked up to me and asked me, off the record, if I thought these two were being sexual.

…
Yes. I say it out loud.

Whoa…
I was suddenly sprinting for the toilet and there went dinner. I hadn’t thrown up in years, and it was like my body was making up for it. I threw up until it hurt, and I was clutching my stomach. It felt like coughing up acid. Thankfully, there was no blood.

My friend didn’t help. He just waited patiently in my front room.
He did, however, ask me if I felt better when I re-emerged. Not really, I said.

We talked—my friends are good at that—about what it really meant to be someone’s father.

When you’re someone’s father, he told me, you have to lead by example. You don’t cut and run when you get angry with someone. You fight for them for all you’re worth, and when that fails, you do the right thing…

I know he is right, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.

Chances are there will be no legal action taken, as there’s no proof. Still, I can say that I did all I could, and mean it.

If I’m going to show my children how to live in this world, I have to do it myself first.

So there it is. I still feel like crud, but I’ll get past it, and maybe one day my former friend will wake up, or maybe he won’t, but that’s between him and God.

I have my own issues to sort through, and I need to keep people in my life who have similar (healthy) goals.

Those are the friends worth fighting for.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Modern Magic Enterprises LTD and Nomadic Productions LLC

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