date_range twenty eight
face trai byers
home cloverbrook point
I. THE BASICS
Pierceson Rashard Geddy
He, Him, His
date of birth:
October 4 1988
El Centro, California
Harding University School of Business (class of 2011), Lincoln high school (class of 2006), Woodrow Wilson junior high, De Anza Magnet school, Desert Garden elementary
Office Manager at the Ashwick Valley Water District
II. PHYSICAL APPEARANCE
Half Black/African-American, Half Seychellois on his mother's side
Office attire in the weekdays, otherwise he's a slacks/shirt kind of guy.
favorite physical aspect:
Arms, he works out extra for his arms and chest.
It's not distinguishable, it's probably his attitude towards some people he knows.
Height, arms, buns if you must. He always has a stone face, meaning that he kind of looks like he doesn't want to talk to you but that's just how he looks. Outside of work he's pretty nice and smiles.
Gerard Geddy (52, father), Ramatoulaye Geddy nee Abdallah (49)
He would have had one
relevant past relationships: EILEEN HACKETT
Mentally, he's about 23 years old, but somehow he manages to pull it together
ENTP 'The Debater'
Freshly dry cleaned clothes, barbecuing at sunset, cold drinks and people to talk to, finding money in his pockets, slow days at the office
Excel spreadsheets and task lists, computers that are too slow, people complaining at him even though most of the times they are looking for billing, having to work with incompetent people
On top of his athleticism because let's say on top of the gym he also likes to run and play, he also has pretty much worked customer service jobs his whole life (retail mostly) so he's good with projects and numbers. I'd like to say his uncle HOSEA GEDDY
or aunt AFIA GEDDY
got him a job with the water company so now he crunches numbers here.
Immature sometimes, Mind wanders around frequently so he can't pay attention when you bore him, Never ever pressure him, and he also does not do very well with ultimatums that's a good way of bringing out his pettyness and immaturity
Seafood, mainly Mexican seafood like fish tacos and pulpo
Remeber the Titans
Anything on National Geographic
Registered Democrat, on the liberal side of things. Not as strongly political like the rest of his family, but his cousins have dragged him to some protests but this was before he was a city employee.
Catholic, strongly raised from his mother's side. He tries to go to church at least once a month.
He hasn't had the best luck with it, but he was probably immature and didn't want to cultivate any relationships before.
Pathetic, he likes to hang out with his ex all the time sometimes.
I hate closing my eyes. I never know what I might see in there, friends that I know in real life only I know for a fact that they are not there with me, now when I close my eyes. Lately I've been dreading this temporary paralysis, knowing too well what waits for me on the other side. A young buy, light dark features, eyes in the shape of almonds, a strong nose and lips just like mine.
He has his mother's dark, silky hair glowing almost blue by the way it had caught the ray of light. Somehow he seemed to have the way her eyes seemed to beckon me to come to her before she ended up hating me forever. He knees stick out of the red shorts he's wearing, small stubs of a leg but just like the smallest sprout can one day turn into a might redwood, he looks at me full of potential and promise, as if already telling me 'imagine what I could be dad,' and for a second I can feel my heart ready to jump out of my mouth.
He's a an apparition and a horror at the same time, and he's smiling at me, holding out his hands out to me because he wants Papa to hold him even if just once. This is my son alright, even though I have never had the pleasure of laying eyes to him, I know him. His face is mine, the way his small arms sway in the wind though I know he has the strength to move mountains if he had just put his mind to it, with my strength and his mother's will. It makes me burn inside, with only a warmth and crackle of fire that can only be called pride, because my boy is right here in front of me, and for a moment I forget reality and take him to my arms. Kneeling down, I place my hands on his shoulders, wondering how big my boy had become and already thinking of the many ways we would spend our afternoons when I get home from work, basketball camp, church on Sundays, going to the movies and coming home to a dinner made by someone I have not seen in a while.
She'd give us a stare that said we are late and how dare her man and son make her food almost turn cold, but we'd smile and tell her how much fun we had and all will be forgotten. I could see me living this life, forgetting about my bills and work politics, the way I want to drop everything and start over somewhere else. But this alone would have made my responsibilities weigh nothing on my shoulders, because what I have is worth fighting for. They are both my everything, mother and son and together we hold our boy's hand.
My hand opened, his grasping onto my palm with his little fingers. He's smiling and so am I, and together we help him into his seat. Dinner is late, but for whatever reason we are smiling and I could see the tiredness in his eyes. He's had a long day, from the movies, to running around in the parking lot, and a big meal really does put someone so small to sleep. I wonder a bit how two people who somehow never made anything work could have made such a perfect human being. His tired eyes make me smile, knowing sooner or later he would fall to bed. I stand up, looking at his mother and she gives me a knowing stare 'put him to bed' her eyes tell me, I take the precious bundle in my arms and tuck my wrist under his knees, my hand under his head and I take him to his room.
We would have decorated his room blue, with airplanes floating in the ceiling and lots of toys in the corner, all unopened as if he never had a chance to open them. I remember buying them all, somehow. 'Are you going to be here when I wake up, dad?' his voice alone could bring me to tears. 'Well of course I'd be here,' I lie to him. Something in the way he looked at me somehow made me think he knows what is truly happening. I tuck him in, watching his arms come up from underneath the sheets as he looked at me, smiling until he fades silently into sleep.
Somehow I am not able to tell him that he is my everything, anything that I wished I could have ever had the guts to keep in this world, to tell him that I loved him and no matter what happened Daddy would always be sorry. I turn away to face the door, not able to let him see my conflicted face in case he wakes up suddenly. I wanted to tell him he's a miracle, that no matter what love made the danger between me and his mother safety, and that he is the fruit of that relationship. I turn back to look at him, but the bed is empty.
Not a single wrinkle on the sheet, as if it belonged in a showroom in some furniture store. I turned towards the door, turning the knob with my hand and expected to hallway of the home – our home – to be in front of me, but instead it is nothing but pitch darkness, and white floors. I can smell the strong smell of disinfectant and just... chemical cleanliness. Im in a hospital somewhere, looking at a scene in front of me. There's a woman in a hospital gown, sitting alone in a hospital room and staring out at the window. Right outside the door is a little boy, banging at the door to be let in. I walk just a bit closer, taking a look at his face as he cried over and over for his mom and dad. I reach out to touch him and I open my eyes.
I'm in my own bed, and for a moment I look at everything around me. I bring my hands up to my face, feeling the ghostly touch of a little boy's hand there. I bite my bottom lip and contemplate going back to sleep. I stare at the clock on my nightstand, it reads 4:04 AM. I know it's just no use, but I can't go back to sleep.
name or alias: migz
contact info: pm or discord
how you doin'?: I guess I'll see that eclipse again in 99 years
is your member directory up to date?: it will be!
anything else?: I am so sorry DOTTY I keep using his and Eileen's past for serious topics. Let's say he does have dreams about her. D:
27 years old
he, him, his
office manager @ water district