Timmy

“Bye, Timmy,” giggled Amy in a high pitched voice. “I'll see you tomorrow. Don't forget to work on your music homework. “

“Gee. How could I forget?” Timmy grumbled in response. “My dad and his girlfriend insist on helping me with my homework every night.”

“Lucky! I have to do mine by myself. “

Suddenly, the blare of a horn sounded alerting Timmy to his father's presence. Did he have to honk his horn? Timmy knew he'd be there. He picks him up from school everyday.

“Get her phone number and let's go, boy,” joked his father Anthony.

Timmy rolled his eyes, said goodbye and got into the car. Why did his father even have to pick him up anyways? It was only a 10 minute walk from school. Then he could have more time talking to Amy.

“How was school?” Anthony inquired. “Who's your girlfriend?”

“That's Amy, and she's not my girlfriend,” Timmy said with a bright red face.

“Mmhm…you aren't going to make us grandparents already, are you?” asked Crystal, Anthony's girlfriend. “I'm to young to be called Granny."

Again a little embarrassed Timmy responded, “It's not like that. We're friends.”

“Mmhm…” joked both Anthony and Crystal as they pulled off in the old, beige Toyota in desperate need of a wash.

On the way home, in between idle conversation with his parents, Timmy kept getting lost in thought. He was 13 years old; old enough to walk home from school. He was also old enough to do his homework by himself. If he's old enough to run a sander in his dad's wood shop and work there for an hour each day he should be old enough to do these other things. They even wake him up 5 minutes before his alarm goes off.

Ever since Timmy's biological mother stopped calling and seeing him his father has been more than trying to make up for her absence. Sometimes, Timmy wished he would be left alone. Sometimes, Timmy just wanted a normal family. Sometimes, Timmy just wished things were different.

When they got home, Timmy seemed to become angry and withdrawn. He began answering questions with one word, grunts or head nods. He even skipped his favorite dinner, Dominoes pizza.

“Dad, take one day pay off this week. I can't work today. I'm just going to bed.” he informed his father.

“I hate my life!” he said to himself as he lay in his bed falling asleep. He could smell his father's wood shop; the smell of the sawdust, paints and stains. At the very least, he did love those smells.

The next morning, Timmy awoke to the sound of an alarm blaring for what seemed like an eternity. There was a smell of stale cat urine in the air coupled with the smell of dirty laundry. He heard the meowing of about 10 cats and a baby crying in the next room.

The bedroom door burst open and in came running a little girl. The little girl was filthy with an extra large t-shirt for pajamas and no shoes on her black bottomed feet.

“Tommy, Tommy,” she exclaimed. “You had better get up and make mama her coffee and breakfast!”

“What?” he asked. “I haven't talked to my mom in 2 years and who the heck are you?”

“Very funny, Tommy!” she shouted. “We’ll all get the belt! Come on! Get up!”

“What are you talking about? My name is Timmy, not Tommy.”

“Call yourself whatever you want! Just please make her coffee and breakfast before she gets home from work!”

She grabbed Timmy by the hand and led him into the kitchen as best as she could. What the heck is going on? Where was he? Why is the house so filthy? What's with the dirty, little girl covered in filth from head to toe calling him Tommy? And what's with all the cats and the stench of cat piss.

“Too late,” cried the little girl as a car pulled into the driveway. “She's home. Thanks Tommy.”

“Yeah, thanks Tommy, “ echoed two other voices from the other room.

Timmy looked out the window to see the mother figure all the kids were so terrified of. Out of the blue, rusty, old Dodge Caravan stumbled a tall woman with way too much make up on that was smeared down her cheeks making her resemble Pennywise the Clown from the new version of the movie “It". Her clothes were horrendous, at best. She wore a pink mini skirt that left very little to the imagination showing her tattered, white, thong panties with red stains. Her upper body was completely covered in a camouflage sweatshirt that looked way too hot for this 90° weather. Her legs had black, fishnet stocking that were ripped in both knees. Her feet had old, black combat boots that were 3 sizes to big. She dropped her half drank bottle of Wild Turkey whiskey as she slammed her door shut.

“That's your mom?!” Timmy exclaimed in a panic. “I'm not sure why you guys are so afraid of her, but I'm not about to stick around to find out. “

Pushing past the little girl, he ran to the front door in hopes of getting out before the woman came in. He turned the knob and pushed, but it didn't open. The deadbolt was locked. His heart was pounding as he fumbled with the rusty, old lock a few times, but finally he heard the click of the deadbolt opening. He felt a brief moment of relief as the door began to open. As the door opened, he felt a sudden tightness in his chest as he saw “Pennywise" standing there swaying a little from to much alcohol trying to find the right key for the lock.

“Tommy! It's about time you learned to open the door for a lady,” she said as best she could with her slurred speech.

Without hesitation, Timmy responded, “yeah, whatever you say but you ain't no lady!”

Taking advantage of the moment of shock that caused this abomination to pause, Timmy scurried past her, down the concrete steps and down the street as fast as he could. He was now glad his father walked so fast and made Timmy keep up with him.

As soon as he felt as though he were far enough away, Timmy dropped to his knees crying like he's never cried before. He needed to find a way to contact his father. He needed to get home. How did this happen?

He rose back up and decided to keep running until he came to a store, gas station, police officer, anything. He’d call his father, he'd pick him up and they'd go work in the shop or play some football. As he ran across the street, he stumbled and heard the screeching of tires. He turned to look just as the large, diesel truck stops just a few inches from hitting him dead in the face.

The driver of the truck jumped out in a panic to check on Timmy. “Are you OK kid?!” he screamed. “I could have killed you! What's the hurry? Running from something?”

As hard as he tried, Timmy couldn't string a logical though or sentence together. “This lady, an ugly Pennywise with bloody underwear and her dirty daughter were calling me Tommy! I'm not Tommy, I'm Timmy! She was gonna beat us all if I didn't make her drunk ass coffee and breakfast! It’s not my family! I need help! Where's my dad?”

“Who was going to beat you?” the man was extremely concerned now. Did he just stumble on a kidnap victim? “Were you kidnapped? Are you hurt?”

“Yes! No! I don't know! I just went to bed last night and woke up there this morning. Can I please call my dad?! I just wanna play football with my dad!” Timmy was sobbing uncontrollably now.

“Yeah, kid. We can call your dad. What's your name again? My name is Al.”

“Timmy. Timmy Matthew Hurst. My address is 515 Park Ave in Winthrop Harbor, Illinois. My dad’s phone number is 847-639-0929. His name is Anthony Matthew Hurst. “

Illinois?! Did this kid just say he's from Illinois?! He went to sleep at home last night, in Illinois, and woke up this morning in Miami, Florida. That's about a 2 day drive. That can't be possible. Al couldn’t see anyone smuggling an unconscious kid onto an airplane nowadays, either. This kid’s gotta be mistaken.

“Let me call your father real quick. What's that number again?”

“847-639-0929.”

Al dialed the number while keeping his eye on Timmy and alert in case this was a scam to get him jumped and/or robbed. While the phone rang the man heard a song in place of the ringing sound….”Cats in the Cradle" by Ugly Kid Joe. Finally a man answered the phone. His voice sounded like a man that had been beaten by life and was waiting for his turn to die.

“Mr. Hurst? Mr. Anthony Hurst?” Al asked.

“Yeah, maybe. Who the fuck are you? If I owe you money, fuck off.” Anthony barked his response into the phone.

“Hi Mr. Hurst. My name is Al and I'm down here in Florida with your son, Timmy. I almost hit him with my car. Do you know what he's doing on Florida?”

“Fuck off, you piece of shit! My son was hit by a car 9 years ago because his whore mother was busy getting a guy's number! Why the fuck would you call me and remind me of that shit!?”

“Dad!” Timmy shouted, but it was too late. His father had already hung up the phone. “Call him back! Call him back! That's not true! 9 years ago is when he got custody of me!”

“Look, kid, it seems to me that man's son is dead. I don't know who you are or why you would want to torture that man, but I'm not calling him back,” insisted Al who was now quite disgusted with this kid. “Now if you want to be honest with me I can try to help you. Otherwise, I'm late for work. “

“B-but I am being honest,” he said with tears welling up in his eyes. “That was my dad. “

“Right kid. “

Al got into his truck and drove away. What was going on? Why would Timmy's dad say those things? Timmy had never felt a pain so deep in his chest before. He’s never felt so….. alone.

If there's one thing Timmy's dad has taught him it was to never give up. So giving up was not an option. He was going to find a police officer and ask him for help. They would have to help. It is there job.

Timmy started walking towards what looked like a busy street, judging by the number of cars driving past. There would be a police officer there. It was 4 blocks away so Timmy started running as fast as he could.

It didn't take long for Timmy to find one either. There was an unmarked car that had pulled over a sports car with a kid driving that looked no older than Timmy. Timmy approached the officer as he was finishing up with his citation.

“The next time I catch you driving that fast on my streets, I don't care who your father is, your ass is going to jail. A 16 year old shouldn’t be driving a Maserati anyways,” he scolded the young man.

As he peeled away, the driver yelled, “That'll be the last ticket you ever write, piggy. “

The officer turned to hurry back to his car to pull them over again and immediately ran into Timmy. The officer’s tall height coupled with the fact that Timmy was running full speed he didn't see him. Timmy hit the pavement hard.

“Are you OK, young man?” he asked Timmy.

“Yeah, I'm fine. I mean no, I need help, please,” Timmy replied.

“I'll see what I can do. What can I do to help?”

“I need to talk to my dad. Can you call my dad?”

“Certainly. What's your name? I’m Officer Aacto

“My name is Timmy. Please call him. 847-639-0929“ Remembering the last phone call, he decided it might be best if he called. “Actually, can I call him on your phone, please? I really need him right now.”

Officer Aacto was growing more and more concerned as he talked to Timmy. This boy seemed scared. He seemed lost. Most of all, he seemed desperate. He dialed the number and in place of the ringing he heard “Fade In/ Fade Out" by Nothing More playing. He handed Timmy the phone.

Anthony answered the phone and it sounded as though he had been crying. “Whoever this is, it had better be important. I'm having a real bad day. “

Instantly, Timmy started crying. “Dad, it's me, Timmy. Please don’t hang up, please. “

“No. No you're not.” Now Anthony was crying again. “You’re not my Timmy. You can't be. Please stop calling me. “

Anthony hung up the phone without giving Timmy a chance to say another word. Timmy dropped the phone, dropped to his knees and stayed that way silent for a moment. This can't be happening. Why?

Officer Aacto knelt down next to Timmy and asked him what was going on. TImmy explained everything from the moment he went to sleep the night before all the way up until he met Officer Aacto. As crazy as his story sounded, he needed help. He needed to get home to his father.

Officer Aacto took Timmy back to the police station in order to get to the bottom of what's going on. He got every bit of information from Timmy a he possibly could. Timmy gave him his full name and address, his dad's full name and address and phone number, Anthony’s girlfriend’s phone number, his grandparent’s names, address and phone numbers. He even gave his mom's full name ever though that was all the information he had on her.

Officer Aacto was sitting at his computer and let out a big sigh. “Well, Timmy, every bit of information you've given me checks out. The names, phone numbers, addresses, all of it. The only thing is Timmy Matthew Hurst was indeed hit by a car 9 years ago. It was pretty bad, too. They flew him from Illinois to Milwaukee,WI trying to save his life. They did everything they could……

Timmy' was unable to make out everything the officer was saying as his heart sank into his chest. His stomach turned and knotted up. He turned a pale white and passed out. Although he was unconscious, he could again hear Officer Aacto calling for an ambulance. He checked Timmy’s vital signs and calmly talked to him.

“Everything’s going to be OK, Timmy. We've got an ambulance on its way….”

Suddenly, Officer Aacto's voice changed and was now his father's. “We’ll get you to a hospital and get your hand stitched up. What were you thinking, boy? Next time ask me to open it. Don't just grab a knife. “

Timmy looked down at his hands and his right hand had blood coming from a cut in between his middle and index fingers. There was blood on his clothes and on the floor around him. He was in his kitchen in the apartment he and his dad lived in a few years ago…..But how? Who cares. At least he was back with his father.

“Thanks, Dad. “ Timmy beamed as he leaned forward to give his dad a hug. Suddenly, his dad was no longer there. Timmy hit the ground face first so hard it knocked the wind out of him.

“Haha! Billie fell out of bed again,” laughed a little boy's voice Timmy didn't recognize.

Timmy rolled over to see he was no longer in his apartment with his father. He was in a large, dimly lit room with walls painted a faded grey filled with about 20 grey bunk beds with both beds occupied with a total of 40 boys about Timmy ‘s age all wearing a white t-shirt and white boxers. The room smelled of sweaty feet, body odor and beds sheets that had been urinated on by kids too old to wet the beds.

“This is Billie’s first time in juvie, guys,” stated another child. “Give him a break”

“OK,” added a third boy. “I suggest we break his arm. “

“Great idea! I've been wanting to since he got here 6 months ago. “

Juvie?! Now he's in juvenile detention? Crap! And these kids want to break his arm!?

Well, something else his dad has always taught him, stick up for yourself and don’t be bullied. Now, all those push ups his dad made him do for punishment were about to pay off. This reminded him of his first fight ever . He won that fight, he didn't intend on losing this one.

Rising slowly to his feet, Timmy gave the boys a smile that froze them in an instant. The look he gave them, with that crooked grin and arrogant attitude, told them that they had already lost this fight. Timmy had some aggression to get out and someone was about to suffer the consequences of the last 24 hours Timmy has had to go through.

“Oh, come on, guys. Take it easy,” he joked. “no one needs to get hurt.”

“We won’t hurt you too bad, “ teased the biggest boy in the group.

“Oh I know you won't,” Timmy insisted. “Do you know how I know this?”

“Sure, smart ass.”

“Cause I'm fucking Billie bitches!” Timmy shouted almost as if it were a war cry.

He clenched his fists and threw a combination left jab to the nose and right hook to the jaw of that biggest boy in the group. The boy hit the ground with a loud thump and scattered the group that had been surrounding the ongoing scene. Timmy lunged at one of the other boys that had been running their mouth and tackled him to the ground. He sat up straight and punched the kid in the face twice before the main lights turned on and guards came barging in.

“Get off him, Billie!” demanded one guard. “You’re almost out of here. Do you remember what we talked about?”

“No, actually I don’t,” Timmy responded as he stood up. “You wouldn't understand why, but I don't remember any of you or any of this.”

As the guard cuffed Timmy, “This is your first time in trouble and you aren’t going to fuck up for anything. You had better hope those boys are ok?”

“None of that really even matters. I would explain it to you but you'd think I'm crazy.”

“Are you OK? Do you need to go to Medical first?”

“No, but can I talk to you alone for a minute?

“Sure.”

When they got to solitary, the guard entered the cell with Timmy and shut the door behind him. Timmy burst into tears and went on to explain what he had been going through. He told him every detail he could come up with. For some reason, the guard seemed to believe him. The guard even offered to look into it for him.

Timmy stopped the guard as he was leaving, “Officer Barry, you believe me? You don’t think I’m crazy?”

“First of all, call me Jack. Second, I believe that YOU sincerely believe that this is happening to you. I took this job to help kids, so if I do nothing and you’re telling the truth, if failed you. If I try to help and it turns out you are wrong, then we can get you the help you need. Either way you need someone in your corner.”

“Thanks, Jack. You're awesome.”

“I’m just Officer Jack Barry of the Harris County Juvenile Detention Center doing my duty.”

Hours had gone by and Jack still hadn’t returned. Timmy needed to keep himself awake until he came back to let him know what he found out. Who knew where Timmy would wake up next. At least here he was safe as long as he was in solitary and he had someone trying to help. He just wished his dad would listen to him.

Timmy heard the jingling of keys outside the door, the series of clicks and clacks that let you know the door was being unlocked and the screeching of the hinges as the door slowly opened. The bright light from the hallway blinded Timmy as he squinted and struggled to see who was standing before him. Whoever it was had a tray of slop that he could only assume they called food in this place. It stunk worse than burnt liver and onions. Timmy was starving so he didn’t really care how it smelled.

“Chow time, maggot,” the figure barked at him “get up and eat!”

Timmy sat up and rolled his eyes, “Although this one inch thick plastic mattress on the hard, steel bed is of the highest quality and comfort, I somehow have managed to stay awake. “

“Listen here you smart ass little punk! I could beat you senseless and claim you attacked me and they'd believe me before the believed you.”

“Well I would hate to beat you within an inch of your life for abusing your title to beat on a child,” warned Jack from behind the guard. “especially 2 weeks before retirement. So I guess you won’t be doing that now will you?”

“I guess not, Barry. You’re lucky I’m bout to retire otherwise I’d…..”

“Otherwise you'd what, Gary? Throw your dentures at me? Get the fuck outta here! Go eat some fucking prunes or something!“

Gary dropped the tray of slop on the little metal table in the cell while grumbling incoherently under his breath. Jack snatched the tray back up and handed it back to him. He then produced a McDonald’s bag from his back pack.

“Thanks again, Jack. You know, my dad had a best friend named Jack,” said Timmy as he began devouring the McDonald's.

“Your dad also had a son who was hit by a car 9 years ago, as you have heard,” replied Jack.

“Yeah. I've heard, but it's not true, “ contested Timmy.

“Oh it’s true. The question is, are you him? And if so, how?”

“9 years ago is when my dad got custody of me! He always told me the day I asked to come live with him was the best day of his life,” Timmy was holding back tears and anger. “I thought you believed me! “

He stood up and tried hitting Jack several times. Jack blocked most of the a tempts but a few got past his defenses. Jack grabbed Timmy in a bear hug in order to restrain him.

“I’m still in your corner, Timmy. Hear me out,” he reassured him. “Your father agreed to speak to me this evening. We've got about 25 minutes until he calls. Now in the meantime, let’s us talk about a few things. “

“OK, what do you want to talk about?”

“Let's talk about Billie Johnston and Timmy Hurst and who they are.” Jack produces two photographs face down. Flipping over the first photograph he asks, “What’s this child’s man's?”

Immediately Timmy responds, “Timmy Matthew Hurst, that's me. “

Flipping over the second photograph Jack asks, “What's this child's name?”

“I’m not sure, but I'm going to guess Billie.”

“That's correct, Billie Johnston. Now have you looked in the mirror today?”

Timmy was confused, “Well no. Why?”

“Here. Take a look. “

Jack hands Timmy a mirror. That's Billie in the mirror! But how?! Timmy started to get light headed and close to fainting.

“That's not me! That's Billie! I don’t understand! I'm Timmy, not Billie. “

Just then, Jack's phone rang. Now Jack got to find out the truth. Was this Billie or Timmy in Billie’s body? If its Timmy how and why? Is that even possible. Jack started to wonder if he was going to end up in a straight jacket.

“Hello, Mr. Hurst.” Jack greeted Anthony

“You have 5 minutes. You said this was about Timmy. This is the third call I’ve had in 2 days about him. The first two were from a deranged boy claiming to be him. This better not be the same thing. “

Timmy had an idea. “We were in Shawn's basement when I asked you if I could live with you instead of mom. You would tell me that was the best day of your life. You did all Shawn's roof jobs by yourself. Anthony Jr shot me with a pellet gun right in between the eyes the day after your birthday, but 3 days before you got custody of me. Nightmare on Elm St is our favorite movie to watch together. In the NFL, there only 2 important teams, the Chicago Bears and whoever plays against the Packers. Please…..please don’t hang up. I need you. “

Anthony was silent for a moment, but Timmy could hear the sniffles from his tears. How could this child know all that information? There's only one way….. it can't be….. how…..

“I never did get custody, Timmy.” Anthony told him. “you stayed at your mom’s for a could days after the whole pellet gun incident. I was still going to win custody so I was trying to be nice. I went to pick you up the day before court just in time to see…to see….”

As Anthony was sobbing and trying to finish what he was saying Timmy started remembering something. He started remembering that day, being hit by that car while his mother was busy talking to another random guy. He remembered his father holding him, crying as the Timmy grew weaker and the life left his body. He remembered the helicopter taking him to the hospital.

“I’m sorry I stopped coming, Timmy,” sobbed Anthony. “ I tried for 3 years almost everyday I came and almost every time I had to deal with your mother and another new guy, and arguments, and constant anger and blaming each other. I didn't want the arguing to impede your healing. “

Timmy started to remember those visits and the arguments. Timmy knew his dad tried, but still wished he would have kept coming. Why didn't he just ignore her and keep coming.

“I met Crystal my last time visiting you. I asked her to take extra special care of you. She let you know how I was doing and she let me know how you were doing. I know it's not the same, but I didn't know what else to do. “

Timmy remembered Crystal coming to see him multiple times everyday. He remembered her telling him about his father's wood shop. Now he understood the stories she would read to him. That must be why Timmy thought he was there with his father the whole time. Timmy was now beginning to grow weak and tired.

“Dad, I forgive you,” Timmy forced himself to speak. “I need you, Dad. Please, I need to see you. I need……”

Timmy had fallen asleep. He dropped Jack's phone and slumped over onto the jail cell bed. Anthony began screaming Timmy's name in a panic. What happened?!

“Mr. Hurst, I suggest you go see your son asap. He's not here any longer. The boy in the cell is asleep and I have a feeling that when wakes up, it'll be Billie Johnston, not your son. “

Anthony ran out the door and jumped into the beige that Timmy had earlier this week thought picked him up from school and sped off to see his son. Coming up to the first set of traffic lights, they turned red while he was still a good distance away. He didn't care. He flew through it barely missing a car. Every red light he came to was the same thing.

As he approached the facility, he slammed on his breaks to park the car taking up 3 parking spots. He ran in the door and past the front desk. However, he didn't make it very far as the doors to go back to the rooms were locked awaiting for him to check in at the front desk. He spun around and made it halfway to the y desk.

“Timmy Hurst!” he yelled. “I’m his father, Anthony Hurst. I need to see him!”

The receptionist gave him an empathetic, “Certainly, Mr. Hurst. Just in time to say your goodbye. His mother is back there now with her boyfriend saying their goodbyes.”

Goodbyes?! What did she mean. He hurried back to his son’s room and practically took the door off its hinges opening it. There were 3 people in the room, a doctor, another guy that Anthony could only assume was with Tonya, Timmy's mother, and Tonya dressed in her pink miniskirt, camouflage sweat shirt, fishnets and combat boots.

“What the hell is going on here?” Anthony demanded.

The doctor was the first to reply, “Glad you could make it, Mr. Hurst. As I'm sure she's already told you, Tonya has decided to end your son’s suffering. We’ve taken him off life support.”

“Bullshit! This bitch hasn’t told me a mother fucking thing. ” he turns to Tonya “you fucking worthless ass bitch. How could you do this to him? You couldn't stay off your back for one God damn weekend and look at my boy! He deserves better than….”

Suddenly, Timmy starts choking and gaging. He starts grabbing the hoses out of his throat. He starts trying to speak

“Da….da…”he coughs to try and clear his throat. “Dad! Thanks!”

“Baby!” screamed Tonya as she ran to his bed.

“No!” he said as he pushed her away. “Dad. I need Dad.”

“What do you mean you need Dad?!” she whined.

That’s when Timmy noticed it. Her outfit…it was the same as the little girl's mother was wearing. That's not possible. No two complete strangers could have the same horrible taste in clothes. Timmy looked at the doctor, it was Officer Aacto, he looked at his mother’s male companion… it was Al. What the heck was going on? He turned to his father for answers, but unfortunately found only Jack standing there.

“Billie?” Jack said.

Timmy tried to correct him but couldn't speak.

“Billie, it’s time to wake up. “

“I'm up, Dad. I'm up.” Billie said as he sat up in his bed.

The sun was shining through Billie’s bedroom window so bright that Billie could hardly see. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he noticed his father Jack had already begun to unpack his wrestling trophies and medals. He couldn’t wait for his first off season tournament here in Florida. He wanted see how these southern boys could handle a Chi-Town kid.

“We have to leave in an hour, Billie, “ informed Jack. Go take a shower and get your gym bag packed.”

“10-4, Dad. On the way, I need to tell about the strangest dream I was having.”