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Rated: E · Short Story · Emotional · #1421895
A girls struggling to come to grips with her place in the world.
Beeeeeeeeee...
"No, Amy, no! Come back to me! Oh Lord, not her too! Please..."
The wail of the woman's voice in my head fades away as I find myself outside my house. The snow is falling, but, despite my tank top, shorts, and flip flops, I'm not cold. There is a snowman outside that is patiently waiting for it's face, arms, and clothes to be put on.
All of a sudden, a big pink marshmallow springs from the front door of the house. She is loaded down with a hat, scarf, mittens, carron, m&m's, and two sticks. this little girl is practically busting at the seams in childish delight as she decs out the snowman. Pretty soon, the smile appears on the snowman's face to imitate the smile on my 7-year-old self. Thinking back, I remember this day, but for a different reason, which I know will follow shortly.
"Amy! Time for dinner!" A woman's voice calls from inside the house. I follow my younger self into the house and watch them sit down and say grace. A feeling of dread comes over me.
Here it comes, I think, right after I take that bit of macaroni.
RRRRRRIIIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGGGG!
"Daddy, daddy! It's Daddy, Momma!" The younger me practically falls off her chair in her excitement.
My mother smiles and grabs the phone.
"Hello? Oh, Mr. Connelly...yes...what?...that's not...no, it can't..."
My mother's smile drops from her face like a lead block. Tears make rivers down her cheeks. My younger self runs to her and throws small arms around her waist.
Mother hangs up the phone, stand for a moment longer, then crumples to the ground.
"Daddy's not coming home, sweety." With that, she hugs me as close to her body as possible. Standing aside, watching this, I remember the force of her sobs, shaking my whole body, making me guilty that I could not cry. I had to be brave for my mother, and I was.
Suddenly, the whole scene whirls around in front of my face to be replaced by a new one.
I'm in the middle school library, standing next to a group of girls. They're sitting together and talking in hushed tones, laughing every once in a while at something one of the others said. This is yet another painful scene being replayed from my memory. I know what's coming before it happens, but I still cringe when it does.
One of the girls yells, "Hey Bookbrain, why don't you read yourself into another life?"
The girls laugh, egging others into making comments.
"What a dork! Those books are her only friends! Why don't you marry them, Bookbrain?"
"No one else would want her,she's too fat and ugly."
"Why don't you spend more time on a tredmill and less time reading, Nerd!"
In a fit of giggles, the girls leave the library under the stern glare of the librarian. I look over in the direction of their victim and see my 13-year-old self sitting in the corner, my knees up, with an open book lying on them. A single tear escapes her eye to stream down her cheek. I can remember how by fingers hurt from gripping the book in my efforts not to cry. I wouldn't let them see me cry.
Suddenly, a boy walks in my direction. I had forgotten this part of the memory. He is tall, with brown hair and green eyes. He was always there through the years, but I hardly noticed him until this day. The day we became friends for life. He rarely talked and didn't now either. I continued to stare at the words on the page, refusing to wipe away the tear and draw attention to it. I looked up for a second before he reached out and wiped the tear from my face. We both looked at each other for a few seconds before he smiled. The smile grew onto my face as well.
An abrupt change came over my vision, like the lights going down and then reappearing on a new Act in my life. I see the shops, all in line, down the length of the mall. Here comes my mother, in her usual maid attire, walking down the aisle, my ninth grade self in tow.
Ever since my father had died, my mother had insisted on punishing herself by denying herself her one true passion: fashion. She had tossed away the pretty sundresses for long, grey dresses that screamed "Grandma," her fashionable jeans were replaced by fitted sweat pants pulled up to her armpits, and her nive heels and sandles were removed in favor of loafers.
On this particular day, mom was wearing blue slacks with fitted legs, a white shirt covered in lady bugs, and the ugliest loafers I had ever seen. My younger self was walking at least ten feet behind my mother in the hopes of not being associated with her.
A group of girls sitting on a bench burst into giggles and began pointing at my mother. My younger self became outraged. I watched myself walk up to the girls and glare at them until the laughing stopped. I then walked up to my mom, grabbed her arm to lead her into a store, and proceeded to buy her a new wardrobe. I remember that I later tossed out all of the drab clothes that made her look 20 years older. My mother and I walked together down the mall from that day forward, heads held high.
The images before my eyes began to blur once again. Like a slide show, this scene flew off my line of sight to be replaced by yet another memory from my life.
I find myself on the landing right inside my house. Here comes the 17-year-old girl that I used to be, hurrying down the stairs in a mountain of light blue silk, the exact color of my eyes. My face is lit up with a smile of pure excitement.
My mother tries to follow me out the front door as a car pulls up, but my younger self doesn't want to be embarassed by an overprotective mother.
I go out the door and head for the limo, and the boy holding the door for me. I climb in with my younger self and sit down in the seat I know will remain open.
There are two couples and another girl. This is a bit off, but not enough to cause questions. The ride passes in silence, but I can remember the excitement stayed with me the whole ride. I should have seen the problem ahead of time when the most popular guy asked me to Prom.
We go tto the dance and my heart skipped a beat as I remembered what was to follow. The first couple stood off to the side with the other girl while my date pulled something out of a duffel bag.
Suddenly, he turned to me and placed a bag of dog crap in my hand.
"Here," he said. "this is from your real date. As you can see, he got the shit scared out of him when he knew who he was going with." The others all started laughing hysterically.
My almost-date grabbed the other girl's arm and both couples went into the dance, leaving me standing with the dog doo in my hand.
All of a sudden, my younger self dropped the bag and bolted. I chased after and ended at the elementary school playground. On the merry-go-round lay the heap of blue that was me, sobbing my heart out.
I turned at the sound of a car door slamming and running feet. The boy from the other memory, Justin, comes up to me and wraps me in his arms. Before, I had been crying so hard, I didn't understand what he had said. Now, standing to the side of the two holding each other on the merry-go-round, I hear it quite clearly.
"Oh, Amy. It's okay, I'm here. I'll always be here, love." Over and over, the same thing. It brought tears to my eyes just hearing it.
Abruptly, I feel a jolt in my chest and am brought to the hospital room where I lie. My mother is there, crying enough to wrench my heart out. I try to remember how I got here, and the car accident comes back to me. I was driving home after work, planning on spending the night watching movies with my mother. The driver came out of nowhere and then all I remember is black.
In runs Justin, a stricken look on his face. He stands still for a while, doing nothing, Then a single tear falls, and his head hits his hands as he sits in a chair. As I look out the window into the lobby, I see many people from my school and neighborhood. This is furprising because I didn't have many friends. It hits me. I really did have a place. I meant something to all of these people. I was a somebody.
There were many times in my life when I wanted to disappear forever. At this moment, I take them all back. I could never leave those who love me.
"NO!" I scream as I run at my prone body and jump. I gasp as I come back to reality, whole with my body. I am lying in the bed and I look around to my mother.
"Amy?" Mom stares at me in wonder. "Amy! My baby!" The rest of her words fade in her sobs. She rushes out of the room to recover and spread the good news.
Justin has come up to the bed. I smile up at him as I begin to see him in a new light. The me, he is the most beautiful boy in the world.
"I'm here. I'll always be here, love." I whisper as I grab his hand. He comes down to me on a sob and grips my close. I turn his face to mine and kiss him with all the feeling I have.
Never again will I want to disappear. The world means too much to me and I mean too much to the world. I'm here to stay. I'm here to love and be loved. I am someone. I am Amy.
© Copyright 2008 Josephine Rose (bookwrm4416 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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