Hey guys. Here's Chapter 2 and 3. I went ahead and paired them up since they are a little short. I hope you enjoy it! Be as harsh as you want.
Chapter 2
Only God knows how much time passed before I came out of my paralyzed zombie trance. At first, I didn’t know where I was because I could hear little bombs going off, successfully hitting their targets. It turned out that it was Mom was flinging grocery bags towards the island as if they weighed no more than a cotton ball. Each bag landed so hard that I’m surprised that the one with the milk carton didn’t burst open. Even though she didn’t look at me, I could see that my Mom’s eyes were red and glossy instead of their usual Grand Canyon color. She moved her long hands through her jet black bangs in distress. She shook her head, sighed, and then continued to reach for the items in one of the bags. I went over to where she was standing to help out like a good little daughter.
“Mom,” I tried to sound as serious and mature as possible.
As she took a can of soup out of the bags, she nodded her head so that I would know to go on. She just didn’t have the energy to say so.
“Uh, Mom. Well, I’m sorry for the words we…we exchanged back then and uh,” My lips felt like ice—slippery.
“Look, hun. I don’t have time for these games,” Mom finally looked up at me with pleading eyes. Her voice was scratchy and harsh.
“It’s not a game, Mom. It’s real. There’s a man.” I placed my hand on her elbow and looked straight into her eyes.
“He called me. Three times.”
I don’t know what the expression on my face was like but it must have been wild because Mom looked at me as if I was completely out of my mind. She finally took her hand off of the countertop and grabbed my arms as she kneeled down to the floor.
“Look, hun, I understand that you’re sad about Daddy, but he’s not coming back.”
I was astonished. She thought I was making this all up.
“Do you understand me? Those stupid dreams you’ve been having. Lies, lies, lies. He’s dead, Jesse. Scott didn’t call you.”
Tears were starting to come out of her eyes and I felt a little queasy myself. Mom actually said Daddy’s name since we found him in their bedroom. Bullet through the chest. Self-inflicted.
“HE’S DEAD!” She shouted into oblivion. It wasn’t me out of my mind, it was Mom. She pushed the wind out of my chest, making my glasses nearly fall off my face, and my arm was starting to loose circulation. Mom never pushed me. Her eyes were filled with water like a person’s lungs when they are drowning. Her mouth gaped open making horrible sobbing noises as she got up and started to storm off as usual. Though this time, she decided to use a weapon. She took the milk carton and flung it at the refrigerator. I shuddered, staring in freight at my mother. White liquid splattered all over the refrigerator and all over the floor. Mom didn’t even look back at the mess she made. She just stomped her way up the stairs to the guest bedroom. Just before the door slammed, I heard Mom yell,
“We’re moving in three days!”
Chapter 3
I wonder if a Beatles song talks about any of this. You father committing suicide or your Mom not believing in you or having a stalker or facing the prospect of moving to a whole other town. After Mom went to her room, I decided to retreat to The Clubhouse. It was still fairly warm outside though I grabbed my yellow jacket before I went out the front door to keep me extra warm if I decided to stay up there for a long time. Especially if Austin could come. I went out the driveway and turned the corner towards the Frederick house.
When I finally got down their long driveway, I rang the doorbell to see if Ms. Frederick was home. After about two minutes of waiting, the door flew open.
“Jesse! What a wonderful surprise.” Ms. Frederick said with her regular senior citizen smile. I could already tell from the doorstep that she was cooking. She had her apron on and the smell of something good was leaking out of the house.
“Come in, come in. I just got through making some macadamia cranberry cookies. A new one!” She motioned me to come into the house and chuckled to herself. Ms. Frederick always seemed to say the exact same thing to me when I show up at her doorstep. The only thing that changes is what she’s baking.
“Make yourself at home.” She said as she took my coat off for me. The Frederick house as usual smelt of cookies, this time with a berry twist. The walls were stuffed with even more black and white pictures and Mr. Cuddles seemed fatter than ever as he slept on his furry rug. Nothing has changed.
“I haven’t seen you much, dearie.” She said as she walked towards the living room. Her curly white hair bounced around her head as she walked. I followed her, embarrassed about how to reply.
“Mmm, mmm, mmm. You still have those pretty blue eyes.” Ms. Frederick always says that. I guess she can’t really help it. My eyes are a little strange since my skin is the color of chocolate but the remarks do get annoying after awhile.
She chuckled her same chuckle and then started to frown, as if she just remembered something terrible.
“Is your mother taking it…ok?” Her voice was no longer was cheery and filled with Irish enthusiasm as she sat down on her rocking chair. She had a serious expression, if one at all, on her face.
“Yes, she’s just…fine. Um,” I didn’t really like lying to Ms. Frederick but to say that my mother was losing her mind would only ruin the loving culinary atmosphere. “Thanks for asking.”
“Oh, you are welcome, dearie. Glad to hear it.” She said with her smile reappearing on her face.
I nodded.
“Well, the cookies aren’t done yet but you can go in the clubhouse out back if you want in the meantime.” She winked and said, “Call that Austin boy up. Maybe he’ll come up there with you.”
It was already on my list of things to do but I wanted to talk to Austin about the dreams I had last night not flirting like Ms. Frederick is always trying to get me to do.
As I put my jacket back on, leaving the sweet smell of cookies behind, I took my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed Austin Drayton. When I asked him to meet me at The Clubhouse, he answered me with his usual reply.
“I’ll try to squeeze it into my busy schedule but I think I can manage it.”
“Of course you can manage it bee-brain. You’ve been doing this since forever.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sure Jess, let me just finish this math problem, ok?” He said with fake intelligence.
‘Riiiiggghhtttt. Bring the math homework here so I can help you for the millionth time.” I replied.
Then we hung up. That was our usual discussion on the phone. Though, I don’t think our Clubhouse discussion will be the usual this time around.
