Memories Cascading

         Home...
         She had almost forgotten what it had felt like to be in this place, a place she had called home for nearly sixteen years before she left. She had always found it ironic how people said home was where the heart is. For her, that was never the case.
         She took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet and chill air of the small town of Twin Valley. She couldn't believe how much she actually missed this place. Even after she had sworn she'd never return. Yet, here she was, stepping foot onto the dewy grass covered lawn that belong to a small run down house on Cranville Road. Looking around though, she sighed. It was fall, which had been her favorite season as a child. Every single one of the abundant trees on the lot were dyed different oranges, reds and yellows. Her nerves seemed to calm as she listened to the trees' leaves rustle in the gentle breeze. Her nerves seemed to calm but her mind still hummed with memories and emotions.
         Lately, she had been haunted by dreams of her childhood - memories of both the good and the bad. It was as if they were leading her back her, to this place she thought she had forsaken long ago. She had tried so hard to create a new self, one with a new goal and take on life. A life that had a real future outside of the nowhere she once lived in. But these damn dreams were the one string left unsevered.
         She remembered how her and her father fought on a daily basis. Remembered how the worst of the fights occurred the night after her sixteenth birthday. She remembered every bit of the screaming they threw at each other, the tears that stained her cheeks and the pain forever carved into her heart from the hurtful things said.

         Malorie's father slammed the front door after having a bad day, working at the construction site. He was covered in dirt, his steel toed boots covered in the mud that had been formed from the previous nights rainfall. Malorie had grown accustom to seeing him angry like this. It was the only face she had seen on him for as long as she could remember. She had learned to ignore it as best she could.
         He walked into the kitchen, dropping his dripping wet jacket onto one of the kitchen chairs and blindly walked past her as if she didn't exist. He instead put all his focus on searching the contents of the fridge for anything that resembled alcohol.
         "Dad, we don't have any... Mom hasn't been to the store and you finished the last six pack last night during the game... Was work really that bad?" Malorie asked, not bothering to look up from her homework.
         Her father chuckled darkly, slamming the fridge door hard enough the shake the containers on top of it. "Was work really that bad? Was work really that bad, huh? How the hell do you think it was Malorie? For Christs sake, I had to work two more hours to get shit up to quota cause of that damn storm and you have the gull to ask how it was? Are you retarded?"
         Without letting her answer, or bothering to care about the pained look on her face, he began to walk into the living room but he managed to still hear her mutter under her breath. "It was just a question."
         As if he had become a deer before headlights, her father froze only to spin around on his heels and narrow his eyes at her. His face was red with fury which made her cringe. "What the hell you say?"
         "Nothing, Dad."
         "Nothing my ass. I don't give a damn if it was 'just a question'. I don't wanna hear you get smart with me again, little girl. You hear me?!" his voice was more of a growl.
         Malorie felt her eyes well with hot tears as they threatened to fall. Her father however, continued. "Jesus, that's just like you to be a cry baby. That's all you are. Just some pathetic girl who doesn't know how to do anything but cry. Grow up for Christs sake. You don't work, you get fed, and you have some pretty clothes. You should learn to show some respect when I'm the one forced to deal with your whining, anti social bratty ass."
         She looked away from her father, looking instead at the trees beyond the house. He snickered at her silent reaction. "God, you're useless."
         "And what are you?!" Malorie snapped, standing firmly as she slammed her fist onto the table. "All you ever do is watch football and drink. Nothing else. You're the selfish and useless one. Where were you when I had a ballet recital or softball game? You weren't supporting me. You were getting wasted with your friends in the middle of the day!"
         "What does that have to do with anything? I bring home the paycheck, not you. If I wanna go drinking, I'll go drinking. I'm the man of the house. I create the rules and you follow them." He stepped toward her furiously, enraged beyond reason.
         Malorie finally unleashed the rain storm of tears she'd been fighting so hard to contain. "You should have been there for me! Like a father is supposed to! Every time i studied my ass off and got an A or practiced for hours to earn those trophies I wanted nothing more than you to be proud but you were too drunk to notice! I can't stand watching you destroy the only important things in your life. Mom might be dumb enough to stay but I won't!"
         "Then get the hell out of my house!" He screamed at the top of his lungs, unknowing of the consequences.
         "Gladly!" Malorie's eyes widened as she realized what had just happened. But instead of feeling regret, she felt relieved. Turning her back on her father, she grabbed her backpack and took off. He obviously didn't care or want her there and she couldn't handle the fighting anymore. Leaving seemed like the right thing to do.

         Leaving had been the right thing after all, she thought to herself as she stared at the run down brick house she used to call hers.
         If she hadn't of left, she would never have been pushed through life. It was because of that one day, ten long years ago, that she was able to live a successful and adventurous life. In a indirect way, it was all thanks to her father. Though he had been a cheating, lazy drunk, he had taught her what not to be. It had given her a goal, a reason to strive for better. It was all because of him she got her diploma, paid her own way through college and even got a decent job as a journalist living in Boston.
         As a slow smile appeared on her lips, she walked to the front porch of the house. Each step a little dance on a pathway stone, just as she had many years ago. The smile, however, disappeared as she actually stepped onto the porch itself.
         Now it was time for the hardest part.
         She reached up, forming a tight fist with her hand and knocked on the dirty plastic front door before her. Three knocks was all it took for the door to open. But on the other side of the door stood a man. There before her stood a tall man with short black hair that seemed peppered with gray. His face was strong but worn with stubble on his cheeks and chin. Without his age, he seemed as if he was once very handsome.
         Standing there, an unexpected smile formed as she looked at the man. The smile reflecting in his eyes, the very same emerald green eyes that she had. "Hello again... Dad."

*** The End ***