the search for a choice, ok by my best friend just wodering what you guys think.. sorry but its Options

[mighty megan]

ok well ths is a story one of my bffs wrote for school and id like to see what you guys think =]

The Search for a Choice

by Teddy Tiab © 2006



Prologue

Deans life, it seemed, was the epitome of complicated. He had never known what it was to live a normal life; from his very beginnings, he was plagued with abnormal circumstances, which, until this very day, he is convinced had a direct hand in shaping his dysfunctional teenage life.
Chapter 1

Being half Middle Eastern on his fathers side and half Asian on his mothers side, he is what many call a mutta strange mixture of culture. Dean took pride in this though: his distinction of heritage gave him what he needed to survive. Dean, as he always put it, had the smart Asian genes from his mother that helped him to fit in with the other honors students at school, and he also had the Egyptian heritage from his dad that satisfied his desire for individuality. There were not that many Egyptians at Deans school in Anaheim, California, and because of this, he always received a Wow! Youre Egyptian! reaction from those he toldan exclamation he loved to hear.

At school, Dean always managed to make everything in his life seem normal. He was a straight A student, an involved leader on campus, and a fairly well known guyperhaps not the popular type, but nonetheless he was well known in his junior high and worked his way up in a new high school as well.

On the outside, as far as anyone could tell, Dean was the typical teen: he loved spending time with his friends and appeared to be as normal as could be: a reflection, of course, of a normal childhood. Nothing, however, could have been further from the truth.

From his earliest memories until the very last day of sixth grade, Dean lived with his mothera mother whom, four years later, he could hardly even picture in his mind; her once vivid face seemed only a gigantic blur in his minds eye. As Dean had learned to apathetically tell his story: she left my dad and took me when I was one-year-old and she married an old, cruel man. From the age of three up, I spent every other weekend on visitation with my dad, he would tell those he had become close to, almost like an initiation process for becoming a close friend. I hated living with my momI hated my step-dad; when I was in sixth grade, my dad finally filed for full custody of me: I was happy. On the very last day of sixth grade, I came home not to find my mom; I soon found out that she had leftshe took a bus out of town and I havent seen her since. The next day, my step-dad took me to my dads, and thats the last I saw of him too.

Although Dean had learned to adapt a very distant tone when relating his childhood story to those he trusted, he was far from unaltered by his mothers desertion. She had left him vulnerable and very, very emotional.

This did not show when Dean first moved to his dads house; it was what he always wantedhe was finally living permanently with his dad: a man who then was a tall, large, well-tempered and kind man; a man who, as far as Dean had ever seen, was only capable of displaying one emotion: an unconditional love towards Dean. Even better though, was that Dean never had to go back to Victorville.

However, as the realization of the magnitude of what happened slowly dawned upon him, Dean gradually retreated more and more within himself. As his mothers memory slowly slipped away from him, the details of her face smearing away on the canvas of his memory, her voice fading away like a distant echo in his mind, Dean realized he would probably never see her again.

Over time though, Dean had come to terms with these things: or so he thought. Over time, Dean had learned to come to terms with a lot of things; he learned to accept situations exactly as they were and, except for very rare occasions, got into the habit of insisting on nothinghe never fought for what he wanted.

Today, however, had been different; today, Dean had foughtbut he had lost.
Chapter 2

From the day after the last day of sixth grade until moments before now, Dean had lived quite contently with his father and step-mother, slowly forgetting his biological mother all the while. Today, however, had been a turning point in Deans outlook on his life.

The fight between himself and his father today started off as typically as any other father-son argument. Dean had been going out with friends quite frequently as of late but his father wanted him to be home more often. His father didnt understand what friends could have that he didnt; he didnt understand why Dean preferred being away from home to being at home.

When Dean was asked this, he replied in his usual, casual way. Rolling his eyes, Dean muttered, You dont understand because you dont have any friends!

I have you as a friend, Deans father calmly answered, why cant you be here for me?

Because youre old, Dean sneered, and, I honestly dont like you. This answer had hit home, Dean knew that he shouldnt have said what he had just said. Thoughts raced through his mind as to ways he could fix what he just said, but it was too late, his impulsive brain had already blurted out how he felt and now he couldnt hide it.

What did you just say? Deans fathers tone seemed rather flabbergasted in disbelief, My own son doesnt like me? What have I ever done to you?

Everything. Dean felt like saying. You have done everything to me; you have treated me like a child all my life, you have never let me grow up, and worst of all, you have made me the one with the weird parents among my friends! These thoughts flew through Deans mind and as he thought these thoughts and concentrated on fighting the impulse to verbalize them, his father was screaming in near rage about how he, as Deans father, had never done anything but show him love, and if this was his thanks, then so be it, but it wont change his answer, Dean could not go out this day, in fact and as his father continued to rant and rave, Dean had another impulse to fightthe impulse to cry.

As the knot swelled up in his throat, working its way up to the back of his mouth, as his sinuses clogged up and his eyes became extremely tingly, as a tear forced its way out of his right eye and slowly rolled down his cheek, Dean began to think, so much has changed since I was littleso mucha gasp escaped him.
Chapter 3

Indeed, so much had changed since the last day of sixth grade. The transition from Victorville to Anaheim, the transition from Anaheim being a bi-monthly visitation to a permanent abode, the transition from hell to haven all went as smooth as any major change could have gone: Dean, as a naïve twelve-year-old, was glad to be rid of his past. For a long while Dean never even gave it a second thought: he was free.

Needless to say, Dean adapted well to living full time with his dad. However, many things could never be the as they once were. He realized that this haven was only a haven from Victorville and that soon he would need a haven from this haven.

Deans once well-tempered father had suddenly sprouted a short fuse. Arguments were a daily occurrence in Deans home. At first, the arguments did not involve Dean at all, they were between his dad and step-mom, an Egyptian woman who was always kind to Dean and whom Dean had grown to love, calling her mom. Soon, however, the arguments began to involve Dean indirectlyhe had become the subject of most arguments in the house. Eventually though, Dean was not only the subject of but also a participant in the arguments: arguments over chores, habits, and especially moneythe normal things. The consistency with which these arguments occurred, however, was far from the norm.

The love Dean once held for his home and his father in Anaheim slowly turned to contempt and repugnance. He would go anywhere else, he would be anywhere else but home where nothing but exhausting arguments waited for him. Dean had forgotten all about the hell from whence he came, he now had another hell to live throughthough the comparison may be a little exaggerated. All of a sudden, Deans unconditional love for his father became conditional, and the opposite appeared true as well. Little argument after little argument, Deans communication with his father declined over four years until it nearly ceased to exist. It had reached such a point that there was absolutely no communication unless it was aggressive.

As Dean drifted farther apart from his home and parents, he became closer to his new friends in Anaheim. By the end of eighth grade, Dean had formed a tight circle of four friends that even endured through his transfer to a different high school than the one they were going to. Of these four friends, one gradually became his best friend: a first in his life.

Dean firmly believed that the only un-dysfunctional aspect of his life was his best friend Adam. Adam was the one constant, stable part of his lifea true friend that he learned to depend on, open up to, and in turn, be a best friend to as well. Dean, Adam, as well as the other three guys that formed their pentagon of friends: John, Mark, and Tony, became like brothers over the two years they spent together at Dale Junior High. Even when Dean ended up going to a different high school than the other four, they remained just as close. It was from his friends that Dean received his sense of family, of loyalty, and of trust, not from his real family. It was because of this attachment that Dean grew to hate staying at home, and it was this attachment that wedged a seemingly impenetrable wall between his and his fathers relationship with one another.
Chapter 4

Absorbed deep within all of these thoughts, Dean sat on the edge of his large, king-sized bed hours after the argument with his father. In his stone-like tenseness, Dean resembled the ancient Greek statue, The Thinker; with his fist clenched beneath his jaw and his elbow resting on his knee. Unlike the statue, however, Deans thoughts were far from enigmaticalthey were obvious. His forehead began to crease as frustrating thoughts took control of his mind.

Sitting in his room as a prisoner, Dean wished for nothing more than to grow even more distant from his fatherso distant that he would never have to see him again. Moving for the first time since the moment of his confinement, Dean looked up and stared heatedly at the white drywall walls that contained him. Pushing himself off the edge of his bed, he glanced at his flat, black digital clock sitting atop his nightstand. The green numbers read 1:03, six whole hours had passed since Dean told his father he didnt like him, it had been six hours since he was grounded. As he looked out the window, the only light visible in the tiny cul-de-sac neighborhood was the pale glow of the moon above; there were no street lights. Within his square room, the door was shut and locked, making Dean a true prisoner.

Suddenly clapping his hands on his laps, Dean came to a resolution within himself. I cant stay here anymore, he thought to himself, Ive got to get outat least for a little while, maybe just to clear my head. Today, for the first time ever, Dean did not want to live with his father. Before, he had simply not wanted to stay at home, but this evening was the first time he did not want to live at home.

Approaching his mirror-door closet, Dean slid it open and began looking for a jacket. My parents have got to realize that Im not a child anymorethat I dont deserve to be held captive in this house simply because they cant let me gothey have to learn to respect me as a young adult and not as the twelve-year-old child that moved in with them four years ago. Dean had found a thick, poly-vinyl jacketthe black one that everyone always mistook for a bikers jacket. This should do, he thought. It was well past the rainy-season, being in the middle of July, but the nights were still chilly despite how hot the days were.

Dean slipped on his jacket, pulling it down from both sides to make it fit better. Looking at himself in the mirror momentarily, his pointed chin and wide cheekbones, light-brown skin and wide, deep brown eyes stared back at him, reflecting his conflicted emotions. Dean had never run away from a problem before, in fact, he was always the one that found the solution. Im not running away, he tried to convince himself, Im just taking some time off, Ill come back. However, even as he told himself this, he knew there was a good chance he wouldnt come backhe certainly didnt feel like it.

Turning around, Dean grabbed his three essentials: the keys to his 1992 Nissan Maxima, his wallet, and his cell phone, stuffing them in his pockets.

He took one final, deep breath, opened his window, and jumped into the chilly midnight air.
Chapter 5

Inside his car, Dean sat with his keys in the ignition and thought about where he would go. All that mattered was that he was out of the househe would not have survived another day staying there.

Ive made the right decision, Dean reassured himself. Ill just leave for a weektake a breatherheck, I might even enjoy myself for once. Upon this last thought, Dean barraged himself with questions. What am I going to do? Where am I going to sleep? How am I going to eat? He had no money. Hoping for a miracle, he opened his wallet and peered into the empty sleevenothing. As he closed his wallet, something fell on his lap. He picked it up and moved the card towards the windshield, holding it up to the light of the moon. My emergency credit card! He was saved. His dad had given him this credit card when he got the car, saying, Only use this if you absolutely have to. Dean had never used it.

Re-spirited, Dean turned on the ignition, took his cell phone out of his pocket, and dialed Adams number. Taking a quick glance at the clock, it was 1:30 am, almost the end of the movie. This evening, Dean was supposed to have gone to watch the premiere of X-men 3 with his friends Adam, John, Mark, and TonyDean was the only one that ended up not being able to go. Pushing down the emergency break and shifting his car into drive, he pulled off of the curb and drove away from home.

The phone rang twice then Adams hushed voice picked up on the other end, Hey Dean, whats up man?

Hey Adam, are you guys still at the mall?

Yeahey the movies almost over Ill call you back, k?

Sure, Dean answered, his voice trailing off. He had hoped to talk to Adam to help him figure out what to do, but he thought better of it, best not to ruin the end of the movie for him, Ill talk to you later.

Alright, lates Dean. Adam hung up.

Stopped at the end of his cul-de-sac, Dean was signaling right. He hadnt even been paying attention to where he was driving, but by instinct he had signaled right, the direction of the mall where his friends were. I guess I will talk to Adam after all, he thought. He stepped on the gas pedal and accelerated towards the mall.
Chapter 6

Stepping out of his car in the Buena Park Mall parking lot, Dean looked towards the entrance to the mall; a lot of people were walking out of the theater. The movie must be over. Dean hoped he hadnt missed Adam. Pulling out his cell phone again, he jogged towards the entrance. Adam picked up his phone, Hey Dean, sorry I forgot to call you back dude.

Its cool, hey can you meet me at the entrance to the mall?

What? Adam sounded a little confused, I thought you had to stay home tonight.

I snuck out.

Uhalright, Ill be right there.

Moments later, Dean and Adam were the only two people at Buena Park Mall. They each leaned against a stucco column. Facing each other, both with a leg bent so that one foot would be flat against their respective columns, a brief silence ensued between them.

Taking a deep breath, Adam broke the silence, So let me get this straight, you ran away from home because of a fight with your dad?

For the first time it seemed as if it would be Adam that pointed out Deans rashness. Yea, I had to though; I wouldnt have been able to stand another fight with my dad. Deans voice seemed to quiver; he hoped Adam wouldnt point out the impulsiveness of his actions. Adam was the only one that knew everything about Dean, the only one, he hoped, that would understand.

Adam did understand, and so he changed the subject, So, where are we going?

Dean looked up in surprise, We?

Yea, we, Adam adopted a wise-crack tone, who else do you have but me?

I didnt want to suck you into this Adam, I just wanted you to help me figure out where to go for a couple days.

Nah, youre not sucking me into this, come on, what are best friends for? Adam smiled as he said this.

Dean smiled backit was the first time he had smiled all day. Thanks man.

Hey, you dont have anyone else in this world, do you? I mean, its not like you have another family to go to when you dont like the one you havewell not really anyways. At these last words they were both thinking about the same thing: Deans mom was long gone, only God knows where, and his half-brother never calls him backhe had given up on both of them long ago.

I guess youre right, unfortunately. Well that leaves me with very few options, Dean finally broke the thick silence that followed Adams last comment. I guess Im going back home, he sighed conclusively.

What? Adam seemed surprised. What do you mean youre going back home? No way! The Dean I know wouldnt sneak out of his house only to go out to the mall!

I guess there are some things about me that you dont know, Dean replied, his pulse beginning to race, alright, Ill take you home.
Chapter 7

As Adam got out of Deans car which was parked outside of his house, he looked back at Dean with a knowing look and said, If and when you need me, Ill be there he shut the door and ran up his driveway.

Dean put the car into drive and drove away, I know Adam, I knowgosh, you do know me too well. He took a right turn at the lightthe opposite direction of his house.

Checking his gas meter, Dean saw he had a full tank of gas. Victorville, here I come.

One and a half hours later, Dean took the off-ramp into Victorville, and for the first time in four years, saw the familiar Target and gas station that he once saw every other Monday on his way to school. Dean couldnt help feeling that he was home.

By now, it was three-thirty in the morning; Dean pulled into a parking lot, turned off the ignition, laid back his seat and fell asleep.

The loud beeping of a truck backing up brought Dean from the dream world. Looking around, Dean seemed to forget where he was. What the he said to himself as he brought the seat of his car back up. It all came rushing back to him.

Last night, after talking with Adam, Dean had resolved to find his mother. When Adam had mentioned Deans lack of a second family, he realized that much of his frustration came from that very fact. Quite frequently, since his relationship with his father began to go downhill, Dean wondered what things would have been like if he had continued living with his mom.

In honest contemplation, Dean never fully comprehended why he hated living with his mom. He knew he hated the old man she had married, he knew he used to like spending time with his dad, who then always spoiled him, but he never knew why he didnt like his momin those days, he was so sure that he did not like her but he never gave a second thought as to why. But now that she was gone, now that he felt he had no family to turn to, he wasnt at all sure whether he ever truly disliked his mother. In truth, he could hardly remember her.

The vibration of his cell phone brought him out of this trance-like thinking. Looking at the caller-id screen, Dean put the cell phone back down and hooked it back into the car-charger; the caller-id screen read dad. He turned on the ignition. After the fourth vibration, a pause was followed by a quick vibration that indicated someone had left a voicemail. Dean knew many calls would follow this one, so he turned off his cell phone and pulled out of the parking lot. Dean wasnt sure exactly where he was going, but he continued to drive.

After a few turns, Dean began to recognize a few structures, though many were very unfamiliar. Taking a right past the Ralphs shopping center he used to go to so often, Dean drove down Valley Drive. He knew where his subconscious was taking himit was taking him back to the house he hated living in so long ago.

Passing the large, cement Brentwood sign that indicated he had entered a neighborhood under that name, he followed the curvy road down into a smaller street. He drove to the end of the tiny streetfour blocks exactly, and made a left. Stopping in front of a medium-sized, pink house, Dean put his car into park, but left the engine running. 14190 Moon Drive. Home, Dean thought reluctantly.
Chapter 8

Someone across the street had noticed Deans car sitting on the curb for a while and began approaching the car. Dean turned off the ignition and began looking at the person approaching his car. As the person came closer, it was apparent he was a kid. Coming closer, Dean realized that it was his old neighbor Mike. Unfastening his seatbelt, Dean jumped out of his car and ran screaming, MIKE!

Mike looked confused. He didnt recognize the stranger running towards him and had no idea how he knew his name.

Mike! Mike! Oh I cant believe its you! Its been too long! How are you?

Who are you? Mike asked, ignoring all the other questions.

Its me! Its Dean!

Dean? Mikes eyes widened as he realized it really was the same kid that moved away without a goodbye four years ago. Dean! Oh my God!

As Dean and Mike excitedly began to catch up on each others history over the past four years, Dean discovered his old step-father had died last year and his older half-brother, Marcus, had moved in with their nice neighbors only to move out on his own after they decided to move to Texas. Mike had no idea where Marcus had moved to after that, but he did have his cell-phone numbera number he never used.

Quickly saving the number into his cell phone, Dean thanked Mike, took down his phone number as well, promising to keep in touch, then rushed back to his car for some privacy. He drove out of the neighborhood so as not to look like he was just trying to avoid Mike, which he really wasnt, and pulled over. Staring at his cell phone screen, it read:

Marcus
1-760-355-7892.

Dean had his finger on the green call button, but then the phone began to vibrate in his handit was his dad. Dean decided he couldnt ignore all of the calls. He answered the call, and, not even waiting to hear his fathers voice on the other end said, Dad, I left because of you. I hate you! Leave me alone and we wont have any problemsdont call again or I promise I will never come home again! With that, he slammed his flip phone shut. His words were harsh, he knew that, but still, it was time his dad knew exactly how he felt about him.

Re-opening his cell phone, he found Marcuss number in the digital phone book again and pushed the call button, bringing the phone to his ear.

It rang once. Hello? The voice was not familiar at all.

Hi, uh, Im not sure I have the right number, Dean began to doubt that this was still Marcuss phone number, after all, he had given this number to Mike nearly a year ago. Is this Marcus? he asked.

Yes, Marcuss tone was confused and rushed, who is this?

Marcus, this is your little brotherits Dean.

Dean? Where are you? How have you been? To Dean, Marcuss tone was rather ironic. Marcus had never returned Deans earliest phone calls four years agoand yet he almost sounds like he cares about me now.

Dean decided to get straight to the point, Marcus, do you have time to meet? Im in Victorville, we need to talk.

Uh, sure, where are you? Ill meet you wherever you are.

Meet me at Brentwood Park, ok?

Sure Dean, Ill be there in ten minutes.

Dean hung up the phone. Brentwood Park was only a few blocks from his old home; he would be there before Marcus. Good, he thought with a sigh of relief, Ill have time to prepare myself.

It was twelve-thirty in the afternoon: it had been fifteen minutes. Dean was becoming impatient, as he was more than ready to begin his search for his mother. He knew she could be anywhere in the world, four years was plenty of time for that, but someone had to know something about where she was, and who better than the guy that shares her blood, like Dean, to help him.

The fact that Marcus was his half brother never made it easy to accept him as a real brotherso they always were a little distant when they were young. This meeting would not be like a reunion to Dean, it was a business transactionan interview. In his rearview mirror, Dean saw a red Toyota Tacoma pull into the parks parking lot. He couldnt help but smirk. Marcus always did want a truck. Dean stepped out of his car as Marcus stepped out of his.

Marcus greeted Dean with an enthusiastic wave and Dean half-heartedly returned the greeting, turning in the opposite direction and walking towards the grassy play-area behind them. Memories flooded back to Dean of afternoons spent in this play-area, and of all the fun hed had; he recalled the one time he had been playing on the monkey bars for far too long and went home with a blister that covered his entire palm.

Dean took a deep breath to relax. He had been so tensed up until this moment that he never stopped to enjoy the trip, to smell the proverbial roses. Up until this moment Dean had forgotten that the reason he left was because of tension.

Hey bro, howve you been Marcuss softened voice asked from directly behind Dean.

Fine, I guess. Dean was in no mood to explain truly how he had been as of late.

Ok, so whats up? Marcus sensed that Dean was ready to cut to the chase.

I want to find mom, and I want you to help me. Tell me everything you know.

Marcus sighed a deep, heavy sigh. Im sorry kid, I wish I could help you, but I know just as much as you do.

Dean had to restrain himself from retaliating after Marcus called him a kid; he needed to keep the peace. So, you know nothing at all?

After a little prying, Dean discovered that Marcus did know one thing after all. Their step-father Jim, received a letter from their mother in the mail three years agoit was the one and only. The letter stated that their mother would never be coming back, but that she was safe. That was all. There was no return address or anything.

Dean began to feel hopeless and frustrated. I didnt leave home for nothing! You didnt leave home for something either, his conscious seemed to try and remind him. Theres got to be someone you know that has more information, Dean told his half-brother.

The only person I can think of would be our Great Aunt Lucy, Marcus seemed a little hesitant to continue, but he trailed off.

But what! Dean exclaimed.

But I have no idea where she lives.

Again, Dean was thrust into a pit of hopelessness. Just as a glimmer of hope had revealed itself, a giant rock crushed it.

Look man, Marcus disrupted Deans sulking, Ive got to get to work; youre welcome to stay at my place if you want.

No thanks, Dean smiled, maybe we could be better brothers now that were older, Ive got to get going too, but keep in touch this time around wont you?

Marcus gave another sigh, Yea, sure. A pause. Look man, I know you miss mom, I miss her toobut she chose to leave usboth of us. Did you ever think that maybe she doesnt want us looking for her, that maybe she left because she didnt want to be around us anymore? I gave up long ago bro; maybe its time you do too. I know youd be better off moving on than running away.

Dean looked up quickly.

Marcus sensed he had let off too much, Look, your dad called Mike right after you left his house, and Mike called me to tell me what happened.

Dean was a little troubled at this, How did my dad get Mikes phone number? Then he remembered the little blue book of telephone numbers he gave his dad when he was in 7th grade; it had all of his new and old friends phone numbers.

I wont tellpromise, Marcus responded to Deans troubled look.

These last words reminded Dean of their childhood memories. Oh how the tables have turned, Dean thought to himself. Another way these two had been abnormal brothers was that Dean, as the little brother, never told on Marcus. Dean would always tell Marcus after he had done something wrong, Dont worry Marcus, I wont tellI promise, and he never did tell.

Thanksbro, Dean mustered the words out; saying bro came out with some effort, but after it was out, Dean felt a sense of relief. He then towards his car, leaving Marcus sitting on the grass, Ill see you around then.

Just as Dean had put his hand on the handle of his car door, Marcus shouted, Dean, wait! I do remember something, running to catch up with Dean, Marcus let out, Lucy lives in Whittieror at least she used toI remember thats always where we used to visit her.

Thanks Marcus, Dean moved on. This information was near to useless, but it showed that Marcus did genuinely care about Dean. Thanks, he repeated.

Take care of yourself little bro, ok?

Dean started his ignition and drove off.
Chapter 9

Ten minutes later, Dean found himself terribly and hungry parked in front of a Taco Bell. He grabbed his cell phone from the car-charger and went in. After he had ordered and paid with the emergency credit card, he sat down and looked at his cell phone. 10 missed calls they were all from his dad. Dean felt terribly lost; he knew the last thing he wanted to do right now was go home, but it seemed like his little adventure was over. The quest was hopeless without any leads. Sitting in his frustration and sadness, Dean decided to call Adam as a distraction.

After having heard Deans full synopsis of all he had done this day, Adam seemed overloaded with the information. Wait, wait, wait, so your step-dads dead, your dad got a hold of your old neighbor, and your brother told you to look for your Great Aunt Lucy in Whittier?

Yea, Dean sighed, but I have no idea how to find her.

Well, Adam seemed a little overly enthusiastic, do you know her last name?

I would think its the same as my moms maiden name, he thought aloud, which is Huang.

Good, Adam replied. I guess I can help you after all,

How? Dean exclaimed.

What do you think the Yellow Pages were invented for? All you have to do is get to Wittier and find one, then look her up!

Dean was excited now, hope surged through his body as the adrenaline rushed to his brain, Can you get me directions to Whittier? Dean had never driven outside of Anaheim alone, and was only able to get to Victorville based on his memory alone.

Sure, let me mapquest it, Adam replied. A few moments later, Adam had given Dean the directions and Dean was off to Whittier.
Chapter 10

In Whittier, Dean was able to easily find a Yellow Pages. Dean took one into his car, stealing it from its payphone holder, and flipped through the pages searching for Lucy Huang. As his finger traced through the Hs, his cell phone began vibrating. Not even looking to see who it was, he rejected the call. It soon vibrated twicethe indication that the caller had left a voicemail.

Hah! I found her! he exclaimed. Dean was brimming with joy; he was finally close to something. Jotting down her phone number, he quickly picked up his cell phone and called her.

Hello? a frail, female voice answered.

Lala? Dean replied using the nickname he used for his great aunt when he was little.

Who is this? the woman had a playful, light tone after hearing Dean.

Its DD! Dean replied using the nickname she gave him.

DD? her voice raised.

Lala! he exclaimed.

Where are you?

Im in Whittier, can I come to visit you? Dean was now eager to see his aunt.

Thirty minutes later, Dean pulled up to an old houses driveway. Raising his finger to ring the doorbell, Dean hesitated. Am I really ready to find out where my mom is? Am I ready to find out the truth about why she left? While he realized he might not get all the answers from his great aunt, he knew he would be getting some and finding some answers was the first step in finding his mother. He rang the doorbell.

A familiar face was behind the door when it opened. DD! Lucy exclaimed, seizing him in a huge embracean exceptionally large hug considering her tiny stature.

Although Dean was eager to catch up with his great aunt, he couldnt help but get straight to the point. What he discovered from that conversation lasted him for the rest of his life. It turned out that Lala had known everything all along, but was sworn to secrecy.

Dean was sitting on a sofa made of rough material and sipping a soda while Lucy related the entire story to him.

Your mother, Dean, was a very fickle woman. When she left your dad and took you, it was because she was confused, but she never turned back. Im sure you noticed, though, that her second choice in a husband was no better. She only stayed with him because he offered her stability in raising you and your brother. But when your father filed for custody, she knew you wouldnt choose to live with her, and so she had no reason to stick around. Dean had figured as much as all of this, and was not surprised at having it confirmed.

However, Lucy continued, there is one thing you should know, she paused to look Dean straight in the eyes, Dean, your mother had cancer.

These words left Dean stunned. An ache pierced through Deans heart. In all his years of having hated his mother, he discovers that she suffered a bad marriage for him, even while being terminally ill; moreover, she had kept it from him. This time Dean would not fight the impulse to cry. Warm tears flowed down his cheeks as he gasped for air. They dripped down into the crevice formed by his lips, leaving them salty. He couldnt stop crying. A comforting hand rubbed Deans back.

Dean leaned in to cry on Lucys shoulder. Shhh, shhh, Lucy comforted, Your mother loved you, she was only protecting you. She didnt want you to have to see her die. These last words hung heavy in Deans chest. Was his mother really dead. He dreaded the answer to the question, but he had to know.

Forcing the words to come out between his sobs, Dean asked, Is...shedead?

Yes, Dean, she is.

Dean broke from Lucys comforting arms. He screamed in anguish and sadness, he screamed because he could do nothing else. He screamed for his regret, and he continued to scream because of the pain he felt in his heart. His mother was dead. A woman he had disliked for so long was dead just as he wanted to reconcile himself with her.
Chapter 11

Two hours later, Dean sat in his car, alone, parked at a nearby shopping center. He was still in shock, and too emotionally distraught to drive safelyhe knew better than to drive like this.

Deans head was bowed down as he sat with his hands in his lap, in prayer. Dean had given up on prayer long ago. He used to pray every night that God would take him away from his mothers house and let him live with his dad. After it happened, Dean slowly stopped prayinghaving really nothing to pray for. However, he now realized that prayer was for more than just asking God for what you need. God is a friend you should talk to, not just ask for favors, he remembered his Sunday School teachers used to tell him.

Dean prayed for forgiveness for harboring hate in his heart against his mother, he prayed for her soul, and prayed for peace within himself, but he also prayed to ask God if this was what he wanted to happen. Dean had forsaken God for so long, never even giving him a thought, that he stopped believing that everything in life happens according to Gods will. And now, he sat in prayer asking God, what did God want for Dean to do?

As if in answer, Deans phone began to vibrating. A call from God, Dean thought. Fumbling through his pockets, Dean was unable to reach the phone in time. It had vibrated four times then stopped. When he finally managed to pull the cell phone out of his pocket, the phone vibrated twice quickly to indicate yet another voicemail. Putting the phone up to his ear, Dean called his voicemail. You have3 new messages the operator told him.

BEEP! Hey Dean, this is Adam, just calling to check up on you, alright lates.

Next message the operator stated,

BEEP! Dean, this is your father, please come home, lets talk. Dean felt, for the first time in the past two days, the anger harbored deep within himself dull and slowly fade away.

Final new message

BEEP! Dean, please answer, its mom, your dads in the hospital, he was in an accident at work. Please Dean, come home. Deans heart raced quickly. His step-mothers voice was far too earnest for this to be a ploy to get him to come home. His father was in the hospital.

Unhesitatingly, Dean turned on the ignition and stepped on the gas, he would be damned before he let his Dad die thinking he hated him. I dont hate my dad, Dean told himself. He loves me, he loves me so much he wants me to be with himthat cant possibly be so bad. Just because he doesnt let me go out all of the time I hated him? How shallow can I be? Oh God, please let him be ok, please, please, please, he pleaded aloud.

Speeding down the street, he took a right down Artesia Boulevard then turned left on La Palma. He knew exactly how to get home, his father had taken him to Artesia once to get him a pastry from a little store, even though it was late and he was tired. He drove faster and faster, far over the speed limit. Please let him be ok, please. Dean continued to accelerate past 40, 50, driving 60 miles per hour. Tears rolled down his face, he tried wiping them in vain, but they kept coming. Now driving at 70 miles per hour, his car was a silver blur streaking through the evening. The tears kept pouring down his face, soon he could see close to nothing. The last thing he did see was a red blur at the top of his windshield.

Dean ran a red light. The oncoming traffic had crashed into his cars left side, flipping the car on the side of the road. An hour later, Dean was in the Emergency Room having open heart surgery after a traumatic aortic disruption. His heart had burst.
Afterward

Lying on the surgery table, Dean found it extremely hard to think. The last thing he remembered was a searing pain in his chest after he had been hit by that car. As it became harder and harder for Dean to think, with his heart in the hands of the surgeons operating on it, he felt suddenly enlightened. It was as if a great load had been lifted from his aching chest. Dean had let go of the anger in his heart. It was so totally and completely gone, that the serenity he felt was almost unearthlyit was heavenly.

You see, dear reader, as Dean was lying on the surgery table, nearing a flat-line, his soul was ascending. And as it ascended, he was able to realize one of lifes most prevalent yet deceiving truths. Dean realized that life is a series of choices and that each of those choices will affect another choice. The train of choices is what determines a good or bad life, a happy or unhappy existence on earth.

It was Deans choice to want to live with his father; it was his mothers choice to leave; it was his fathers choice not to let Dean go to the movies that fateful day. We all force ourselves into the habit of accepting life as a predetermined fate; we do this to such an extent that we make even the most important decisions in our lives a choice made on a whim rather than sincere consideration.

Dean learned, as his body turned cold and the surgeons pulled their hands out from his cadaver, putting his heart back in place, that in life, it is important to be in control of our choices. To do so, he first had to search for what his choices could be. Deans journey was more than a search for his mother, it was a search for a choice.