Young Writers Society

The first time I stepped outside my room in a week, and I need to get out more. But how can I? It's not like I'm fun to be around. . . she was though. Never mind that now! it all can get better; It can get somewhere from here. I know that if I try hard enough, if I try and love again, that maybe someday I'll be loved, like they loved her. "You're only twenty three there is time to get over all this." I keep getting told this and I understand it to be true, but like most I have the yearning for something more, to be okay, or to have what other people do. It calls to me like nothing ever has.

I woke up at seven, normal. Even on weekends. I showered with no expression, I dressed with no expression, but when I arrived to my mirror to put on my makeup, that I have been avoiding for about a month, I stood there and tried to smile. Dramatic I've been told, but lately it's been hard to smile. I am so plain that many don't look at me, well they see me, but not really look at me. I have long brown hair, with no wave, I have white skin, tan enough to look normal, I wear a blouse and most the time no makeup. At all. I'm such a plain person, but my smile I thought it was beautiful. I had to wear braces for three years. I deserve it.

I had to apply little foundation, almost none at all. I must see my mother. I haven't seen her in about a year or two. Time slows when you're alone. Especially when no everyone is around you, you feel so alone. I try to look normal for her, less plain, more like her. I put on a green blouse with a ruffled front and a white skirt, surely to get her attention if anyone's. I rarely dress for any occasion. I put mints in my bag and a lighter, but I do not smoke. It's habit, my sister used to. . . no don't think of that now, you're going to see mom. I riffle through my bag and pull it back out, I do not need it.

I get a taxi, and my hands shake. I never liked cars since that day. Never really liked them any way. Yes I remember I get car sick. He pulls over and I wobble in my heels out of the car, my hair getting slightly caught in the frame of my glasses. I straighten it. 

"have you forgotten something miss?" the cab driver snorted. I looked at him embarrassed, I had forgotten to pay the poor man! He definitely has a short temper; his eyes were full of grey and demise.

"I am so sorry," I whispered, "I have the money." I reached into my purse and pulled out a twenty, it was less but I didn't have change and he wasn't in the mood to bring out his wallet. I handed the driver the bill and walked into the restaurant. My mother had gotten a table for us at the new restaurant in town, very fancy. I felt so out of place, even in these heels. I walked over the the table where my mother sat, legs crossed, a fake painful smile strung across her face, and blond hair.

"Mona it's so nice to see you! How long has it been?" she asked knowingly. It was a month after her death that I had left. It was a cold day, even with the sun out. I couldn't bare to be with all of those lit candles and photos; even if we did look the same.

"I don't know mom a while, a long while." I respond once again with no emotion. I should have been brighter, her whole face changed. . . She knew that I hadn't have had any progress. It wasn't something I was hiding though, at least not very well.

"Oh, come on Mona! you still can't be like this. Your sister wouldn't have wanted it." She was still so stern, even now. So fragile though with age. Still so beautiful. I wish she could feel what I have felt all of these years. All of the pain and regret.

"How do you know what she would have wanted?" The tears I've been holding back since this morning welled in my eyes, I struggled to push them back again, back where they belong. It isn't normal to still be this depressed over something so long go. Especially when your an adult, and I thought with adulthood came an overcoming sense of strength, or at least that I wouldn't be afraid anymore.

"Mona this is what I came to talk to you about, I understand it was hard for you, I got over it. It takes time I understand. But almost two years Mona!" she almost started yelling, then came to a whisper and leaned across the table, "I mean Mona, seriously your still here so stop making me regret it." I gasped, and she looked downwards, but not ashamed. . . she was angry.

"what?" I said slow and almost silent, my eyes filling once again. I can't believe she was angry, and when she knows how close we were, I lost a sister and part of myself that day. She only lost a daughter, but to her that was like loosing a pair of earrings.

"Just sometimes I wish it would have been you who had gotten in that car in Rio!" She had yelled so loud. How could she do this? I loved her so much. We were twins after all, but she. . .she has no right to treat me this way. My fists clenched so much I could feel the blood flow being cut off. I'm not normally violent, I don't even curse, but this felt good; to be mad.

"Who the fu-" I was cut off by a waiter coming over. I guess that's good however, because I don't think I would have walked out of their on my own otherwise.

"hello ladies, what can I get you to drink,"he stopped looked down at me, I hadn't noticed that I had started to cry. I rushed to wipe my face. I gathered my things about to head out the door.

"Mona wait!" my mother was yelling behind me, she was playing off my emotions. She didn't want to see me, she wanted to see my sister. I sat down outside of the building on a bench and took off my heels. Then a man sat next to me. he was tall and pale, very pale. He wore a t shirt with a duck on it. . . so silly, he wore jeans and a baseball cap.

"Moan is that you?" he whispered, "why are you crying?" it was so quiet and soft, I realized who it was.

"Zach?" I asked quickly, a one worded question. He was sturdy and I laid my head against him, still sobbing.

"Yes Mona, it's been awhile." He helped me up carried my shoes and took me to his truck. It was blue and small, but cozy and warm.

"where do you live Mona?" I didn't want to go back there, not now I had pictures of my sister there. He hadn't seen the new place anyway, and it's a mess right now.

"I do not wish to go home." I said, his calm face didn't change, I saw him about two weeks ago, briefly, he had that calm face. Till i tried to run from him, then he yelled for me. I feel like yelling now. For all the times I didn't yell, for my sister, and for me.

"Okay Mona, that's okay." He took me back to his apartment without a word more. He laid me on the bed and he slept out on the couch. He could have slept here, we were dating for years, we almost got married. He still has my photos, as I think now he still texted me every day, I only stopped talking to him a month ago, maybe he forgave me. . .

I walked quietly through the small hallway the good sized couch he laid out on, and lifted his arm to be at his side, I thought he made it worse. I thought I didn't deserve it if she was gone, but this, this is good. He woke up, an accident. Saw me next to him and held me. Didn't kiss me, maybe he thought it was to much for the first night back. It might have been. I fell into a deep sleep, crying slightly. It's not normal for me to cry.