I have been working on this piece for a long time. There are three more chapters so far. I hope its good. Please rip it to shreds.
~peanut~
Snow fell quietly, the New York sky began to light as I looked around. The flurries whirled around me; Josh circled the park bench behind me.
Looking for ammo, I thought, laughing to myself. I looked forward, staring at the concrete walkway, carefully not to look back at the bench; the beauty of the park captivating me. Standing there I began to think about Josh, Mom, and Dad; about everything.
I laughed as a snowball whizzed passed my head, nearly hitting my shoulder. Nearly. My light brown hair swirled around my head. I could still see the smile on Josh's face through the haze of brown; his blue eyes sparkling with excitement. I smiled and reached down, the icy snow chilling my ungloved fingers, making an imperfect snowball. Slowly, I raised my right arm, aimed and launched the white sphere at Josh. Shock filled his eyes as it hit him. Then the whining started, of course.
"I'm a girl. I'm sorry girls are just better than guys." I stated as we started down the pathway.
"That's so not true," Josh pouted, jogging to catch up with me (the faster one, obviously). I ignored him and turned the corner. He was annoyed, just the way it was supposed to be.
I stopped in front of our house, shivering as Josh walked slowly up the steps.
"Forget your key again?" He drew out the last word and dangled his key in front my face.
"Yeah, just open the door, I'm cold!" Josh may be younger, but he was a lot more responsible.
"What's the magic word?" He insisted. Yep, he was definitely younger and more immature.
"Please?" I chattered. I felt like a woodpecker was knocking on my freezing teeth.
I slipped off my socks; my bare feet chilled against the wood floor, and made my way down the hall to my room. My door shut as Josh trudged to his own room his wet boots squeaking on the dry – once dry- floor.
Wow, he’s quick today, I thought, his footfalls banging on the wood once more. I followed, pulling my robe closer to my body.
Water soaked through my socks and the farther back down the hall I walked the worse it got.
“You know, Josh, my socks are soaked because of you.” I said, the carpet in the living room squished under my feet the wooden threshold was hard in contrast to the carpet. He wasn’t paying attention to me, I could tell. His back was turned away from me toward the T.V. he was flipping channels, the blue bar flashing every few seconds telling him what was on each channel. He went through at least 100 channels and still couldn’t find anything. He didn’t move as I walked behind the couch and into the kitchen.
“Emma, you should make us some hot chocolate,” Josh requested from his spot on the couch.
“You should go clean up the water you tracked in before dad gets home.” I told him, walking through the dining room. “Oh, hey, what’s the magic word?” I teased, I heard him laugh softly.
“Please!” he called.
“Ummm... I’ll think about it, maybe.” I shot back at him, crossing into the kitchen. That’s what he gets for making me wait out in the cold, I thought laughing quietly.
I circled the island, making my way to the refrigerator. That’s when I noticed the orange post-it stuck in the middle of the counter. Wonderful, I thought in disgust, Josh will love this. I picked it up, even though it wasn’t hard to guess what it said.
“Josh,” I called, “Dad left us another note.” It took him a minute to get into the kitchen so I read the note silently and as usual I was right about what it said.
“So,” Josh said form the door separating the kitchen and dining room.
I sighed and began to read it aloud, “Sorry, guys, Melinda called last minute. Couldn’t say no. Hope you had fun at the park. Be home soon. Love you.” Before Josh could say anything I ripped the post-it and threw it into the trash can. I missed the can and it was if the ceiling was crying orange tears as the paper rained down.
“Typical!” Josh spat, kicking the confetti reduced post-it as he moved. “I’m surprised he even knew where we were. I can’t believe he’s going out with that witch tonight.” He fumed, and glanced at the calendar by the fridge.
Believe it, I thought but was careful to stay quiet as he continued.
“I mean,” he continued, “how bad can he get? Going out doing god knows what with some one else.” A tear trickled down my cheek as his voice cracked. “On Mom’s birthday.” He was whispering now. I couldn’t take it anymore. My heart was saying something my brain just couldn’t comprehend telling Josh. So I whispered, “Josh, she’s gone.” Tears erupted from my eyes, flowing like rain sown my porcelain skin. It had been two years, but Josh could still hardly stand it. I jumped as the refrigerator beside me kicked on and ice fell from the ice maker hidden in its icy depths.
Josh turned away and walked to his room, slamming the door. When the door slammed I sand, I felt like my heart had fallen onto the linoleum floor beneath me. Gently I collapsed and pulled my legs tight against my chest, and closed my eyes.
Memories came rushing back to me capturing the darkness. Replaying like an old movie. Nostalgic feelings took over as I watched. I could see the Maine coastline that I had walked down so many times with my family.
Suddenly the colors changed. Black began to take over everything. My family, my friends, thoughts, everything. The only colors were the blues of the hospital gowns and bright colors of the nurses’ scrubs. I wanted to scream, and open my eyes. I wanted to go to Josh and tell him none of it was real, that it was all a horrible dream. But I couldn’t open my eyes, my mind wouldn’t let me.
Memories of the funeral came too. Old people hugging what was left of our family. Whispers of how bad they all felt for Josh and I. They couldn’t possibly know what we were going through; I remember thinking as the whispers fluttered by, buzzing like annoying little bees.
The service was even worse than the visitation. All I could see as this part played was the closed casket. It wasn’t Mom’s casket just the casket. The thing inside was not my mother it was just her body not her soul. It wasn’t her. I couldn’t remember the preacher’s face only his nasally voice. As I stared at the dark wood of the casket I could hear the preacher preaching. That was his job after all. But what he said made no sense. How could God be so wonderful? I still ask myself this question, but that day it burned in my throat. It wanted so badly to be yelled. It wanted to be yelled at the preacher along with my other questions.
Why did wonderful God let that idiot into our house? Why didn’t her save her? Why didn’t he let her fight?
I still don’t go to church; I don’t see the point, even two years later.
I still couldn’t open my eyes. It was like my mother wanted me to remember, for her birthday. I waited for the memory to play, wondering what else there could be. Then it played.
I could see my dad and I knew what I was about the witness, again. It was the night Josh and I had walked in on them. They were kissing in the living room I could remember the look on Josh’s face. He was furious. Dad had already missed Josh’s football game. It was the one game Dad had promised to go to and it was the one and only game they had lost.
As Josh slammed the door in my memory, the fridge door beside me closed. Finally I could open my eyes. When I looked up I saw Josh staring down at me.
“Gosh, Emma, I thought you’d lost it. I could hear you crying from the living room. Thought you were gonna run out of air.” Josh explained, handing me the glass of water he had in his hand. He smiled as I gulped it down and grabbed my hand pulling me up. I could still see the puffy redness under his eyes from earlier but at least he was smiling now.
We watched T.V. and drank hot chocolate for the rest of the night, trying to forget about Dad and my episode. At eleven I forced Josh to go to bed. His light clicked off and I turned my bathroom light on. After brushing my teeth I slid into my bed and wished Mom a happy birthday, my once-a-year-prayer.
I woke to the sound of the front door hitting the wall. I checked my alarm clock 3:30. That’s definitely a new record, I thought pushing back my blankets and standing up. I walked out my open door and went into the kitchen where Dad was standing.
“You could have been a little quieter.” I said, leaning on the island.
“I know I’m sorry.” He said. “You know Melinda said she’d love to get to know you and Josh better.”
He’s not sorry, I thought, he’s talking about her. He doesn’t care that it’s 3:30.
“I don’t want to know her.” Josh’s voice spoke up from the doorway. He must have followed me when I got up, I thought, watching Dad’s reaction.
“Josh, go back to bed. You know what, both of you go to bed. It’s late.” It was like Josh had flipped a switch, Dad’s eyes went cold. There was something else in his eyes beside anger, he was hurt. Apparently he couldn’t see what he was doing to us.
M'kay, m'kay, it's a pretty good start to it all. We know that Emma is the older sister to Josh, even though Josh is more responsible. I guess the characters are okay right now, but we could use some more description about Josh and Dad. And definitely Melissa.
