Transplant
By Abby Shaffer
1 May 2009
It was summer and Madi found herself in good company seven and a half hours north of home. They were in the living room of an old house in south Dorchester, Toxic Narcotic was being cranked through a couple of lousy speakers in the corner and everyone was in high spirits. Madi considered the four other people in the room. On the right side of the couch was Jordan�she was cute, had like a Shirley Manson thing going. Next to her was Colgan. He didn't talk very often he was older and kind of looked like one of the symbolic workers from communist propaganda. Colgan's brother, Bev, sat on a chair near the stereo. He was an army guy, a happy, sociable sort. Dillon sat on the floor, a lovable character, but kind of obnoxious.
"So Madi, where are you from exactly?" Jordan asked.
Madi smiled. "Lansdowne. It's like some little, no-class town outside of Baltimore."
"Oh cool. I go to school down around--" another voice cut Jordan off.
"Why do you do that?" Colgan glared at Madi. The room had fallen quiet, even the music sounded softer.
"What do you mean?"
"Talking down about your town like that. You trying to impress us or something?"
Bev rolled his eyes. "Jeez, Colgan, lighten up."
"Yeah man leave the kid be. God, you take everything so seriously." Dillon crossed his arms mocking Colgan.
"Hey," Colgan protested, "I'm just saying."
Jordan laughed. "Now we've done it, Colgan's on his soapbox."
Just then doorbell rang breaking the uneasy moment. Dinner had arrived. Colgan's comment lingered in the back of Madi's mind. What was it in his voice, venom or compassion? The better question was why she was letting that seemingly insignificant bit of conversation bother her so much. Why did she even care what Colgan thought?
By three-thirty the house was quiet. The last few bars of The Street Dogs, Free played out and then even that was silent. She sat listening to her sleeping comrades and watching car lights bathe the walls, it was a kind of solace she'd forgotten existed.
It had been a turbulent couple of months for Madi. Since Steve died she'd been searching for anything to help reclaim the sense of well being she'd once found among friends. She'd known she'd never feel at home again, not in Baltimore anyway. It's why she'd left. She'd been traveling for a while now but nowhere felt right. D.C. had reminded her to much of home, Lancaster was too nice. She'd seen Agnostic Front in New York but after spending one night in a flat with a bunch of drunken N.Y.C. Rudies and S.H.A.R.P. guys she was done with that scene as well.
The sound of footsteps brought Madi back into awareness. Colgan had gotten up to change the record, he caught her eye.
"Weird. I'm usually the last one up." He spoke with less confidence now that the rest of his crew wasn't awake. He walked over and took the seat near Madi. "Look, I apologize for calling you out earlier. You didn't deserve that. But seriously, come on, Baltimore's a great town. I've been down there a couple times and I don't think it deserves the bad rep it gets. Especially not from a native."
"It's not that great." She said.
"Well, running away here isn't going to make it better for you, or the people you left behind. Don't fool yourself. We got all the same problems in Boston as you got down south."
"I didn't leave anyone behind. There's just nothing left for me back there. All I got is myself."
"That's sad. See, somebody slurs my neighborhood and it's a real personal thing. My friends, my family, everything I know is here. I can't imagine my life without that. I mean, if where you're from isn't where you want to be, you can't just abandon it. You should be doing everything to try and make it better."
All the arrogance Madi thought she'd seen in his face earlier had been replaced with this sudden fierce loyalty. She wanted to agree him. She wanted to think that somehow she could make things better. Realistically she didn't believe things back home would ever change. But she did have to admit she missed it a little.
Maybe she would go home.
Maybe she wouldn't.
More Photo Essays
Road To Nowhere
By Michel González Brun — 6 Dec 2009
We're on a road to nowhere - There's a city in my mind, come along and take that ride.








