This is a story about Raleigh Michaels.

Raleigh was an unusual boy of unusual talent. Of course, it all depended on what your definition of ‘talent’ was. As far as Mrs. Michaels was concerned her son could’ve been DaVinci. Could DaVinci make a good martini? With every second of silence she received from her son in response she took to smugly gnawing on her olive toothpick just a bit more.

Raleigh didn’t have a father. Well, he had one once. It had been a good many years since he’d stopped by. Mrs. Michaels, for she hadn’t bothered changing her name back, didn’t mind not seeing her ex husband so long as she got the alimony check. Raleigh, however, could safely say that he’d never seen one cent of that alimony money used in his favor.

Along with tending bar in his own living room, Raleigh also catered to many of his mother’s needs. Every day after school he would go to the convenience store, buy two T.V dinners, a carton of cigarettes, and a box of Twinkies before heading home to his mother. He also worked in the town square on every Friday night and Saturday to make up the difference that his mother spent on liquor during the week.

On Fridays and Saturdays in town there was a fair. As a child Raleigh had never been. His mother had never been keen on humoring him. Instead Raleigh spent those nights watching Cops with his mom. As he got older and as his mother’s love for drink increased, he found it imperative that he find a job. There was a girl in town-- Sue Ellen-- that seemed to have a crush on him who got him a job cleaning up the sick outside the tilt-o-whirl. Eventually they let him start tending to less vomit-inducing work.

Despite all of this, Raleigh thought himself normal. It was his illusion. He wasn’t the kind of child that believed that animals could talk or that princesses woke with kisses. That kind of thing he’d always found silly. He liked to believe that what happened to him on a regular basis was normal, that all parents made their children make them cosmos and rum-and-cokes. As long as he believed this life wasn’t as bad.

However, to ensure that his illusion not be shattered, he cut himself off from most everyone. He didn’t talk to anyone in town while he was there and hardly ever talked to his mother or anyone else near his house. He had a dog, a bloodhound puppy, he called Asher. Asher was the only friend that Raleigh had ever known.

The only thing that seemed to keep Raleigh in good spirits was the fact that it all had to change. Every Sunday he would sit in church and stare at the stained glass window, letting the colors dance over his mind, and wonder when God would get him out of this place. Things had to change for the better. God works in mysterious ways. Raleigh prayed every night for something better to come. Sixteen years later, it seemed as though all God had heard was white noise.

Raleigh’s story begins on an ordinary day in his less than ordinary life. He woke up, pulled on his clothes, fixed himself some breakfast, and headed off to school. After school he went to the store, grabbing two T.V dinners, a carton of cigarettes, and a box of Twinkies. He went to work and prepared himself for an evening of general unpleasantness. What he didn’t know, however, was that this particular night would change the entire course of his life.

Raleigh pushed his broom through the remainder of candy wrappers and corn dog sticks. He sighed and leaned against his broom. Just another day. What he didn’t realize was that this was not an ordinary day.

As he went back to work something caught his eye. It was an ordinary piece of paper with extraordinary meaning. It was a piece of paper that would change Raleigh’s life.

With pressing curiosity, Raleigh gathered the paper off the ground and skimmed it. He supposed it would’ve been easier if he knew what all the words meant. With great care he folded the paper and tucked it away in his pocket.

Raleigh had never been too concerned with his illiteracy. He couldn’t bother himself with words when there was money to earn and food to buy. Instead he focused on pictures. He communicated through art, through the mind’s eye. He told stories through his drawings. Of course, no one understood these stories as there were no words to accompany his art. Had Raleigh not been so shy he may have been inclined to tell these stories.

A roll of thunder sounded in the background. Raleigh looked up at the ghost town—large hot dog wrappers blew past like tumble weeds, cookie crumbs and dust formed their own vortexes as Raleigh continued to sweep. Raleigh had never believed in ghosts or haunting but for one moment in his seventeen years he’d never been more frightened.

“Howdy!”

Raleigh whipped around, broom poised in position for battle, when he saw Sue Ellen’s bright smile glaring him right in the face. He lowered his battle weapon and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Hi, Sue Ellen.”

Sue Ellen was an impossibly happy girl with impossibly white teeth. Her smile said something like ‘Isn’t it a wonderful day?’ Her smile, of course, would always ask this in the midst of a heavy downpour.

“What’ve you got there in your pocket?”

One thing that Raleigh couldn’t stand was someone else’s pressing curiosity. Then again, recalling the ordinary paper in his back pocket, Raleigh remembered that Sue Ellen could read.

“Say, Sue Ellen, do you think you’d be able to read this for me?” He retrieved the paper out of his pocket and handed it to her. Sue Ellen pouted and unfolded the paper.

“Says something about artists.” she said. “Artists age fourteen to eighteen are invited to submit their artwork for a chance to be entered in a competition what’s prize is four years in art school.”

“Where you s’possed to send your work?”

“Somewhere in Los Angeles… Los Angeles! Why, that’s all the way out there in California!”

Raleigh frowned. How had a piece of paper from California made its way into Alabama? He took the paper and tucked it away into his pocket.

“Thank you, Sue Ellen.” he said with a smile. He went back to sweeping, this time with a little more spring in his step.

The next Monday, Raleigh did the unthinkable. After school ended he did not make his ordinary visit to the market. Instead he went straight to the post office with a folder of drawings in hand along with the application on the back of the ordinary paper that Sue Ellen had helped him fill out. With his money from the previous nights he purchased some stamps and envelopes. With careful precision, Raleigh copied the letters of the address, placed a stamp in the corner, and handed it to the woman. Of course, the woman being the helpful soul that she was, tossed the envelope back at him.

“You need a return address.” she snapped. Raleigh studied the woman carefully. He came to the conclusion that either her oily hook-nose or the large, hairy mole on the side of her neck caused her to be angry with the world.

“You deaf or just dumb?” she asked. Raleigh gulped.

“Where would I find a return address?”

The crone gazed upon him with disdain. Raleigh didn’t know what he’d done. It wasn’t as though there were so many people in town to give her a troublesome day. For goodness sake, there were hardly two hundred people within the city limits. Still, it didn’t make him feel any better.

“Please,” he pleaded. “I really don’t know.” The crone sighed as though someone had just asked her to lug a boulder up a mountain. She pulled a drawer of the file cabinet in the corner and slipped her tiny glasses up her greasy nose.

“Last name?” she inquired.

“Michaels.”

The crone’s arthritis-ridden fingers moved slowly through her files. Raleigh suddenly wondered what was in those files. Would it contain personal information like his favorite color being violet or his favorite food being mashed potatoes? Raleigh suddenly regretted telling the crone anything.

“Raleigh Michaels?” she asked. Raleigh jumped. What horrible things did that file contain?

“That’s me.”

Damn! Why did he say that?

“312 Wright Way?” Raleigh frowned.

“That’s my address.”

The crone snatched the envelope away from him and wrote his address up in the unused corner.

“You are dumb.” The crone grumbled. “Your address is the return address.”

Raleigh walked out of the post office a little wiser that day.

So, Raleigh went on living his ordinary life for the next three months. He had forgotten almost all about the contest until one day in late June. He walked in the door with the groceries in one hand and mail in the other. There was a thick envelope underneath the coupon catalogue that he’d have to work on clipping once he’d gotten everything put away.

As soon as the T.V dinners were in their sub-zero home, Raleigh grabbed the scissors and the coupon catalogue. He tried to ignore the thick envelope. It sat there on the counter, taunting him with every passing second.

Raleigh shook his head. The envelope might not even be for him. And even if it was, what if there was a letter inside? He’d have no way of knowing what it said. Even so, the letter was exceedingly tempting. He was about to walk away when something on the corner of the envelope caught his eye.

The return address. It was the same as the address he’d copied down three months before. Damned if he knew what it said but he’d recognize that sequence anywhere. He grabbed the envelope off of the counter and ran out the screen door past his mother.

“Where you going?” she shouted. Raleigh stopped in his tracks and spun around, unable to contain his smile.

“This envelope is for me.” his voice was laced with excitement. Mrs. Michaels stalked over to him and ripped the envelope from his hands.

“You on dumb pills, boy?” she asked impatiently. “Who’d write you?”

Raleigh bit his tongue. While Raleigh may not have been able to read he was still smart. He may not have been educated but his mental capacity far exceeded anyone’s within the small town. Raleigh, of course, said nothing of the sort to anyone.

Mrs. Michaels sliced through the thick yellow paper with her long, harlot-red nails. Roused by the commotion, Asher stood up from his place in the shade and trotted over to his owner, happy that he would have someone to play with him for the afternoon.

As Mrs. Michaels skimmed the letter she started to laugh. Raleigh scratched Asher’s head and waited patiently for her to share in her amusement.

“You really are stupid, ain’t you?”

Raleigh couldn’t possibly respond to this. This question was ridiculous, especially considering the person who was asking it.

“You wrote t’them artist people out in Cali?”

“What’d they say?” Raleigh couldn’t take the suspense.

“They want you t’participate in their fine arts school or something of the like.” she hollered. She was terribly amused at the prospect of anyone thinking her son talented. With sudden bravado, Raleigh squared his shoulders and stood up tall.

“I want to go.”

Mrs. Michaels stopped laughing.

“What did you say?”

Raleigh had never defied his mother, or anyone for that matter, before. He almost felt assertive--nay, powerful—and happy that he may finally get what he wanted.

This was, however, before his mother pushed him out the door with nothing but his suitcase of belongings and Asher’s leash.

So, Asher and Raleigh made their way into town and down to the bus station. Raleigh cleared his throat, causing the woman at the window to look up. It was Sue Ellen.

“Howdy, Raleigh!” she exclaimed.

“One ticket to Los Angeles.” Raleigh requested. Sue Ellen squealed.

“You got that scholarship thingy? Oh, Raleigh, I knew you would! I can book you on this next bus coming in. This is its last stop before Los Angeles! Oh, Raleigh, I’m so excited for you! Did you call and let them know you’d be accepting?”

Raleigh shook his head while marveling at how someone could talk so much without their jaw falling off.

“Well, here. I’ll call for you! You got the letter with you?”

Raleigh nodded and handed her the letter. She picked up the phone and dialed. Raleigh crouched down and hugged Asher around the neck.

“I love you. You know that, right?” The dog barked happily, blissfully unaware of what his owner was about to do to him.

Raleigh stood just as Sue Ellen hung up the phone. She looked up and handed Raleigh his ticket and envelope.

“They’re sending someone to the station to pick you up.”

“How will I know who it is?” Raleigh asked.

“They’ll have a sign with your name on it.”

Sue Ellen pointed to the word on the center of the envelope. Raleigh smiled.

“Thank you.”

“You know I’d do anything for you, Raleigh.”

Raleigh sighed and gulped.

“I know. That’s why I need you to take Asher. I know you’ll take care of him.”

Sue Ellen looked like she was on the verge of tears. She stepped out of the ticket box and gave him a hug. Raleigh hugged her back, losing himself in the sweet scent of her hair. He was faintly aware of Asher barking but as he lost himself in the softness of her lips and the curves of her body he felt the outside world melt away.

That night, his last night in Alabama, was the night that he’d first made love—for he really did love Sue Ellen—to a girl, or anyone now that he thought about it. They sat in the cramped ticket booth in the other’s embrace until they heard the bus roll into the station.

With a final goodbye, Raleigh looked upon his friends Asher and Sue Ellen through the dirty bus window for the last time.

Raleigh had never been outside his home town before. The tallest building he’d ever seen was three stories. Needless to say, Los Angeles overwhelmed him with a slight case of culture shock. As Raleigh wove his way through the crowd he felt his lungs try to collapse in on themselves. There were as many people in this bus station as there were in the entire town back home. He moved until he finally found a slightly less crowded area in the sleek station. That’s when he saw it—the strangest sight ever known to man.

A boy no older than him stood with his hips jutted out to the side and a sign above his head. Normally this would not be such an alarming sight. However, this boy was far from ordinary. He was tall and lanky, unlike Raleigh who was rather short and reedy. Raleigh then noticed that the boy got most of his height from his clunky black boots, where Raleigh had a pair of worn canvas shoes. The boy’s jeans looked like they were pasted onto his body; his shirt looked like it could’ve been part of his torso. His black jacket hung loosely off his thin frame.

However, the most interesting thing about this boy was not the way he dressed himself. No, the most extraordinary thing about this boy was his hair. Raleigh had seen ginger hair, he’d seen blonde hair, he’d seen black hair, he’d seen brown hair. Hell, his mother even dyed her hair a deep red once. Never had Raleigh ever seen someone with electric blue hair as the boy in front of him had. His own sandy hair now seemed boring in comparison.

Finally there was the sign. Raleigh, being illiterate, could not read it. He did, however, notice the sequence of letters as being the same as the one on the front of his letter. Was that really how his name looked?

“What’re you looking at?”

Raleigh hadn’t realized that he’d been staring until the boy had said this. Raleigh coughed and stuck out his hand.

“I’m Raleigh Michaels.”

The boy lowered his sign, shook out his arms, and grasped Raleigh’s hand.

“I’m Cassius.” he said with a smile.

Raleigh didn’t know what sexual attraction was or even felt like. He knew what love was, he knew what sex was, but he’d never before had such a stirring of feelings for Sue Ellen as he was now having for this Cassius fellow. That smile, to him, was a million times brighter than Sue Ellen’s would ever be.

“You alright?”

Raleigh retracted his hand and wiped it on his baggy jeans. He must’ve been staring again.

“I’m fine.” he said softly. Cassius picked up his sign and motioned for Raleigh to follow. Raleigh was reminded of his faithful companion back home. He now knew what it felt like to be a dog, to be willing to do anything that the owner commanded. So Raleigh found himself following Cassius at the heels like some lovesick puppy.

“So, you’re Raleigh, huh?”

Raleigh was tempted to tell the boy that he would be anything that he wanted. Realizing that this might scare him off, Raleigh stuck to

“Yup, that’s me.”

Cassius smiled and led Raleigh to a car. Raleigh had never seen a car before. He didn’t know how cars worked. He just knew that you sat in them and they took you where they went. So, when the car started with an earth-shattering roar, Raleigh was slightly more than surprised.

“Sorry,” Cassius apologized. “This car is really old. She’s a beauty, but she’s old.”

Raleigh remained silent for the entire ride, letting the humming of the engine lull him into a light sleep. He felt a certain sense of belonging in that car. For once in his extremely ordinary life, something extraordinary was happening.