Push

Based on actual events

Have you ever been pushed from behind when you weren’t expecting it?

Do you know that little breath that leaves your throat as your head jerks backwards? It’s some strange combination of fear and physical reflex all happening at the same time. One breath comes up and one goes down and they collide at the base of your throat. The aftermath is an awful sound that only you can hear inside your ears.

Then everything is silent.

Your brain is blank but it’s scrambling. Its trying to catch up, trying figure out how to stop your body from falling or protect you from impact.

Has that happened to you?

Back in middle school I wasn’t intimidating. I wasn’t strong. I was just 5-foot-8, a little overweight and was just there. Just another somebody who didn’t know what to be. I was there in the middle of the hallway between classes getting pushed from behind.

I caught my balance. I heard laughter. I turned to face whoever it was with an uncomfortable smirk on my face.

I wasn’t angry. To be honest I was embarrassed. I was embarrassed because someone was having fun at my expense. Everyone was having fun except me. It was another middle school moment of feeling alone while being the center of everyone’s joke.

Did I push him back? No. Did I run? No. I wasn’t born with fight or flight and I’ve never been sure what the hell that left me with. Naïveté? Trust maybe? It sounds so backwards.

The aftermath was a giggled, wet, uncomfortable laugh and a forced smile as my eyes watered and met the gaze of the guy in the middle of the pack behind me. I remember his face so well all these years later. His chin connected to his cheeks at perfect angles. His jawline was pulled so tightly. His underbit bottom teeth peeked out in front of his upper lip as he just smiled at my discomfort while his gang followed along.

He was having so much fun.

I smiled back at him as if he was laughing with me, like he was a friend that really didn’t want to hurt me. He sure trusted me, didn’t he? He trusted that I was safe. I was a game. I wasn’t going to fight back. He just knew it by looking at me.

Maybe acceptance was all I ever wanted and, if I played along, like a good friend would, maybe the pushing would end. I turned back to the hall in front of me and kept walking.

Push.

Rinse and repeat the same thoughts and feelings until the bell rang and the pushing stopped that day.

Eventually he and I became familiar acquaintances. We would have classes together a few years later and bump into each other at the mall on weekends. We’d make small talk, nothing of substance.

I haven’t seen him in 20 years.

All these years later I wonder what I’d do if I were in that situation again. Would fight or flight dominate? Maybe I’m more of a fighter than I was all those years ago but I can’t tell you for sure.

In all honesty, I’d rather not find out.