Cold Summer

I wrote this short story in high school  and thought I post it here. Hope you enjoy! 🙂

Seeing nature is different these days. The birds would sing their lovely melody to the new world. Trees would whisper to each other as if about the latest gossip of what happened this past winter. Their hands budding new leaves and spreading out their newly sprung fingers. The new scent that gives a great feeling that something good will happen. These are the fascinating things I would have observed. But today I see my heart dark and gloomy. The birds are all gone and the trees are all dead. The ground is barren not springing out new life. I am just staring out the window of our new house and see all of this instead of the transition of new birth.

Our new house. That is a peculiar sentence to me. I can’t believe that I’m in this boring town. I can’t believe my mom forced me to move here, Maine. Amsterdam, Maine! Who talks about Amsterdam, Maine? I was fine where I was, in Chicago, Illinois. The windy city, a city bustling with noise of people talking, and of the utmost importance, it has a social life. You didn’t have to walk 3 miles just to get to the nearest store or mall. Not like in Amsterdam where we will probably have to do that. Mom had to marry that jerk, Derrick. Okay, he really isn’t a bad guy, it’s just that… he isn’t my dad. I hated it when my parents got a divorce. I know that they weren’t happy together, but couldn’t they just spend a couple of years together for me? But that didn’t happen. So they decided to call it quits, without consulting me, of course. And then 5 months later, my mom met Derrick 5 months after the divorce, fell in love with him, and well…you know the rest of my unhappy fairy tale.

I thought Dad would be furious that Mom had moved on so fast. But he wasn’t. He said that he was glad that she was happy with someone else. But I knew the truth beneath the deep, deep surface. He was hurting within his soul. Sharp daggers were going right through his eyes, straight to the source of his pain, his heart. He probably didn’t want to show his true feelings to my mom or me so I would not be able to accept a guy in my mother’s life and in my world. But that would never happen. I cannot accept a new man in my life. My mother might be able to do that, but my heart belongs to my father. It was easier to accept the intrusion at that time since whenever Derrick came over to our old home, I would go over to my dad’s. Mom didn’t understand that it was uncomfortable for me to see them together. She knows there’s a huge bridge between Derrick and myself, and it will take time for us cross it. However, I believe she had a hard time admitting to herself that she did something wrong.

Derrick proposed to Mom. Mom and Derrick got married six months after that, and I was forced to move here to Amsterdam because Derrick received a big promotion, here of all places, and saddest of all I moved away from my dad. I suggested to Mom that I could stay with Dad, but she said no. She wanted us to be a family now, and it wouldn’t be fair to her and Derrick that I would stay in Chicago since they would miss me so much. I think she gave birth to me to ruin my life.

So that is how I got here, into this hell life. I feel like I am stuck here for eternity, with no way out, the fires blocking my only entrance. I look out the window and don’t see the happiness of summer in my eyes but the gothic life of winter. I continued to look out the window sadly until the phone interrupted it. I would usually answer the phone, but I didn’t feel like it and I wanted to ignore it out of spite. Mom came flying down the stairs like the wind.

“Chris!” She yelled coming down the stairs. “Christina!” Why don’t you answer the phone?”

I refused to answer and continued to look into oblivion.

My mom just sucked her teeth and then went to the auburn wooden stand to answer the phone.

“Hello?” she answered into the phone.

There was a long dramatic pause.

I heard my mother begin to cry or it sounded something like that.

“Oh my God!” she cried. “Why…how did it happen?”

How did what happen?

“Oh dear God!” She gasped. “Of course, of course I will tell her. I can’t keep something like this a secret.”

Tell me what? Keep what from me?

I finally turned around and saw my mother slowly hanging up the phone, wiped her face furiously, and dried her hands on her blue jeans. She turned around and was startled to see me looking at her. I was scared. I have never seen or heard her cry before. I also saw her eyes. I saw fear, anger, and sadness. I saw these things separately, but never together. Seeing these things in her eyes made me afraid and regret that I had turned around.

“Chris?” my mother finally croaked.

“Mom, what is going on?” Now I was beginning to cry.

“Honey, I think it would be wise for you to sit down.”

“I would rather stand.” Now the anger was coming out.

My mom took my hands into hers gently.

“Mom, what is going on?” Now the fear was erupting.

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She tried again, and finally her words came pouring out.

“Chris, there was a car accident…with your dad.”

I immediately dropped our hands.

“H-H-He’s o-okay, right?”

Silence, then “Sweetie-”

“He’s okay, right?” I said suddenly angry.

Mom closed her eyes. “No, he’s not. It was a head-on collision. There was a lot of brain damage and blood loss.”

“No.” I said backing away.

“He died right at the scene.” She said with some difficulty.

“No…y-you’re lying. Y-Y-You just want me to stay here so I won’t think about moving with him and stay here with that man!”

Mom grabbed my shoulders, trying to calm me down. “Sweetie, you know I would never lie about this. I wish I was, but…I-I’m not. He’s dead.”

I pushed her away from me, letting the source of the pain escape me. “I hate you.” I said to her, with hatred in my eyes and I went past the boxes that were still in the house knocking one of them over. But I didn’t care about that. I just wanted to get the hell out of there. I went out the door and continued to run down on Elm Street. I ran and ran, toward the light. My mother’s voice became just a memory in my head, going fainter and fainter by the minute. I still didn’t know my way around here. But it was better than staying in that house.

I finally got tired of running and walking so I just stopped somewhere but I didn’t know where. I was certain that this was the dock. It was warm outside but I didn’t feel anything but cold wind beating against my skin. The rain started to pour down on me, most likely mirroring my pain and suffering. Boats were all connected to the old, wooden docks. I wish I was one of those boats, sailing away to a better and happier place. I wanted to escape from all the pain that I was feeling. I knew that my father was dead; I knew that deep down inside my soul. I didn’t want my father to be dead. He was my last resort to my sanity in this realm of fiasco. I went closer to the edge of the boardwalk and spread my arms far and wide, to wish to become closer to my father. I wish I could have gone with him or he could have taken me away from this horrific town. That is when I began to cry.

I sat down on the hard, wet, wooden boardwalk, sat there, and began to cry. This was really happening. I was alone. I didn’t have anyone else. I cried rivers of water like the water falling down in the Niagara Falls. I buried my wet face in my hands and I cried like a baby. I cried for my dad, I cried for my mom, I even cried for Derrick, for no reason at all, but mostly I cried for myself. I cried about how my life had turned out and cried for how my life would turn out in the future. How can I move on? How can I live without my father? What will I do without my father? How long will I feel unhappy about my life, with or without my dad? How long will this hollow feeling last? My father is gone…nothing can make that a better dream. Maybe I should just end it all. Then I’ll be able to end all the pain. But I knew that wouldn’t help it to go away. So I just continued to sit there. And continued to make my eyes red and sore.

Then I thought that I was dreaming when I felt a warm, soft hand gently on my shoulder. I swear that it was my father and my heart was beginning to be filled with happiness thinking that Dad’s whole death was just a hoax. But my dreams were shattered when I looked up at the person. It was Derrick, the last person I wanted to see. I shrugged off his hand and got up from my spot. I crossed my arms and turned my back away from him.

“What do you want?” I said angrily.

“Your mother told me what happen,” said Derrick, “I’m really sorry.”

I was really angry with that. My mother had to send someone to do her dirty work. She couldn’t even look for me herself.

I turned around. “My mom had to send a lackey to do her work, and sends you of all people.”

I went closer to him and yelled into his face, “I don’t need anyone! I’m fine! Everyone whoever loved me is gone in my life. And it’s all because of you! It’s your fault that all this happened! So why don’t you just leave me alone and get the hell out my life!”

I was pounding in his chest while I was saying this. Then I just stopped. I broke down in Derrick’s arms and just started crying; crying hard as I could, just to relieve the pain inside me. Derrick just kept saying, “It’s alright, everything will be okay. Shhh, shhh.” He kept holding me tighter and tighter. And I cried even harder and harder.

“I still don’t like you.” I sobbed.

Derrick sighed “I know.”

I pushed him away from me. “You’ll never be my father!” I yelled at him. “Y-Y-You can’t be him. And I don’t want you to be him, so you can just go away and leave me alone-”

Derrick, again, pulled me into his arms and I continued to cry.

Derrick comforting me didn’t make me like him more. But he doing this for me while I was being so mean to him brought me a very small step to liking him. At that moment I believed that we were coming closer together on that long bridge in life that separated us.