The Spaces Between Your Fingers

Click the image to flip

My friend told me the story of the night he got forcibly sent to Colorado by his parents.

It was a typical Friday night in New York City. My good friend Luca was a spoiled 17 year old kid from the upper east side. He was wearing worn down Margiela replica shoes, pale Acne jeans, and a grey hoodie. 

It was the last day of 11th grade and the first day of summer, and he had the next 2 months planned out for socializing, leisure, and recreational activities. 

At seven he ducked out of his apartment and walked about 10 blocks to his friend James ditsy Park avenue apartment. By ditsy I mean the apartment takes up 2 floors and has a dumbwaiter in the hall. The interiors are modern but simple, bleached wooden floors and 1/1 Keith Haring pieces adorn the living room. Other mutual friends were already at the apartment and the atmosphere was already live. They were killing time before the main event of the night which was a house party in Brooklyn.

An hour in and Luca was completely at ease, he felt free from the mundanities of everyday life. And then they heard the knock on the door. James dad had burst into the room and he was clenching the landline between his ear and shoulder. 

"Luca, I’m sorry but you need to leave right now. Your mother just called me and they need you to go home right now.” 

Luca looked at him in complete surprise, and then a wave of fear washed over his body. His mind was racing with ideas, trying to guess what the emergency is. He looked down at his iPhone and didn’t see any messages, he was confused why his mom didn’t call him directly. He glanced over at his friends who mirrored his perplexed expression. 

In a mild drunken stupor, he anxiously walked back to his apartment. His mind racing with ideas. The blaring ambiance of the city at night was background music that amplified his paranoia. 

By the time he had walked into his apartment lobby, he was somehow slightly more intoxicated than before. His doorman gave him the typical greeting and he walked up the stairs to his apartment on the second floor. He creaked the front door open slowly and peered in the apartment. It was eerily quiet and to his surprise it seemed like his parents weren't even home! 

He let out a loud “Hello?” to see if anyone responded.

… Nothing.

He took off his shoes and got comfortable. The anxiety and paranoia was wearing down but his drunk was in full effect. He walked down the corridor and turned right facing his room door. He opened the door, turns the light on, and sees two heavyset African American men sitting on his bed. 

“what the fuck” He slurred calmly. Frozen in fear but so drunk he didn’t really show it. 

The man on the right then started explaining in a stern but warm manner. “We are here to escort you to Blue Sky Wilderness Therapy and Rehabilitation in Colorado, your parents have hired us to do this. You can cooperate with us and we can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way, it’s all up to you.

Luca stared at the men like I stare at midterms I didn’t study for. Deep confusion, hopelessness, and fear filled his mind. He then tried to bolt out of the room, and the two men aggressively grabbed him and tackled him to the ground. Luca is still piss drunk so he’s fighting them and trying to escape. After a couple minutes of struggling, they finally got him in handcuffs and escorted him all the way to Colorado by plane.

First Day of Summer

Mailman bruce next to a mailbox

Alert IconAre you sure you want to permanently delete this postcard? You cannot undo this action.