Silent Bonds

Erica Heldenbrand

(TW: Mentions of Death, Subtle mentions of abuse)

The air was crisp and cool, nipping at my arms as we stood outside of Owen’s house. It was roughly 9 o’clock. I had everywhere and nowhere to be all at once. Theatre practice ran late; typically, we’d finish by 6:30 or 7. A Chorus Line. I had finally gotten a somewhat big role; all the seniors had to get one for their last show. But it was something to keep me going. Owen jiggled the knob, nothing. Then again. Then a few more times.

“My dad forgot to leave the door unlocked again…” He frustratedly threw his arms up.

Owen’s dad was always out at all hours of the night, mainly at the casino. Owen said the two of them created their own routine. He would walk home after theatre practice, and his dad would leave the door unlocked, awaiting his arrival. Today he forgot. The one day when families are meant to be thankful for one another and be in each other’s presence. Thanksgiving.

Typically, we wouldn’t have school, but the theatre department was different. We were doing awful in rehearsals, so our director promised not to keep us long. I had gotten out of the car and stood next to him, trying to think of a solution. My parents didn’t care where I was, as long as I wasn’t dead. My grandfather had passed the year prior, so we didn’t bother to plan anything together as a family. We didn’t really have that sense of family anymore.

“When do you think he’ll be back?” I asked, shivering in my button-up green jacket.

It was meant for cold nights like these, but it was worn out from the years prior. My skin felt like it could be peeled off like a sunburn.

“I’m not sure, depends on if he’s winning or not..” Owen was silent for a while. “This sucks!” He kicked a rusty shovel that was haphazardly sitting on the porch, not even flinching from the potential pain to his foot.

“Well, I’m not doing anything for Thanksgiving with my family,” I said aloud, forming the perfect plan in my mind. “Wanna go to Dollar General and find something to eat?”

Owen let out a laugh. “Sure, let’s fucking do it.”

And that was that. The two of us hopped back into my tiny Honda Civic. The paint was peeling off the hood and everywhere else, but it got me around. It was only a two-door, so I tried not to hang out with more than one friend at once. Thankfully, my boyfriend at the time had been picked up from practice, or else we wouldn’t have had any room.

“I’ve been craving this pepperoni pizza Lunchable for like ever,” I said, squeezing out the marinara sauce on the small pizza crust.

“This is all I’ve had to eat all day,” Owen admitted, “Dad forgot groceries again this week. Blew all his money.”

“My grandma just likes to make things. You know how my dad is.” I said, observing Owen constructing his pizzas. He took the plastic pouch that held the sauce and began sliding it across the pizza crust, spreading the sauce evenly.

“Oh, what the fuck?”

“What?” Owen asked, looking at me confused. “How do you spread the marinara? This is what everyone does, I thought?”

“I usually just use my fingers,” I admitted awkwardly.

The two of us laughed. We sat eating Lunchables in the parking lot of Dollar General at 10 p.m.

“This beats sitting around the table with a bunch of people who don’t actually like each other but have to pretend to for the sake of my grandparents,” I said to fill the silence.

“This beats eating a shitty Casey’s pizza on the couch with my drunk dad, that’s for sure.” Owen laughed, but it sounded sad to me.

That’s how the two of us bonded; over our shitty family. We talked about it a lot, and I found out things about Owen’s family life that I couldn’t ever repeat to anyone, ever. I thought I had it rough, but there’s always someone out there who’s going through the unimaginable.

After my boyfriend and I broke up, I stopped speaking to Owen. After all, Owen was originally his friend. Theatre practice became hard to attend at times. The friend I had grown so close to no longer wanted to speak to me. We exchanged glances at times, and I could still feel the history between us, like the time my friends and I took Owen to his first Black Friday because he had never had the money for it. He crawled into a big display of huge teddy bears and tried taking a nap. Afterwards, we stopped at McDonald’s, and he created the first ever Cookie Cup; a cookie he stuffed through a straw and set on top of his soda cup.

This day was especially cold, I remember, since it was nearing Christmas time. We still had school because the almighty hadn’t brought us any snow yet. Our production of A Chorus Line had come and gone, and we were now holding our own version of the Grammys. Except our theatre director called it the Drammys. The women dressed up in beautiful ball gowns while the men wore tuxedos.

“I’m gonna go get some air,” I said to my friend sitting next to me. We were in the auditorium, and it had become very stuffy. I also noticed our theatre director was acting out of sorts, seeming to pace up and down the aisle.

I exited the auditorium and went into the lobby. A few parents were huddled in a circle along with the theatre director’s sister-in-law. They noticed me, and the sister-in-law pulled me aside. The atmosphere suddenly grew heavy and sullen.

“Erica, I need you to go get Owen for us.” She said, her voice trembling.

“Why? What’s wrong?” I was flooded with confusion; nothing seemed to be wrong with Owen from what I noticed, but I also hadn’t spoken to him for almost 3 weeks at that point.

“Just go! Now, please.” She tried to compose herself, giving me a soft and gentle look.

I walked back into the auditorium and tapped Owen’s shoulder. I explained the situation and followed him back out into the lobby. Someone whispered something into Owen’s ear, and his face went white.

“Are you serious?” He asked, and he got a nod in return.

Owen then took off running down the long school hallway, past all the classrooms and lockers, and out of the building.

Naturally, I followed behind him. Even though I had no idea what was happening, I knew that I needed to be there for him in that moment. I got a blast of cold air from outside once I threw open the school doors. Lying there, Owen was on his knees, looking out at the parking lot, wailing.

“Owen?” I rushed to his side, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay? What’s going on? What did they say to you?”

I didn’t know what to do at that moment other than ask. I had never been good at comforting anyone. The words he cried out, I could never find myself repeating today. His father had passed that afternoon, in their home. We later found out it was due to a heart attack. It felt horrible to see him like that and not know how to comfort him. The only two people who had passed in my life were my grandfather and a friend back in middle school, but I never fully accepted either of their passings. Owen and I spent all our time sharing stories, mostly bad but some good. Still, I didn’t know what to say. After that, he’d spent a lot of time bouncing around between family members. We never spoke again, but I would still see him in the hallways or at theatre practice. To know someone is hurting, but you can’t say anything to them, is the worst possible feeling.

My name is Erica Heldenbrand, and I believe my Creative Nonfiction piece, Silent Bonds, would be a great addition to The Vehicle’s next issue. This piece is about high school fun, sadness, family struggles, and coming to terms with loss in many ways. It follows me and a friend, Owen, as we navigate high school and the hardships that come with it. Although this piece contains TW such as mentions of death and more, it perfectly weaves humor that is relatable to most audiences. From nostalgic foods to goofy high school groups, this piece is perfect for this year’s magazine.