Atlanta And Him [BEING RE-MADE]

One; Atlanta And Him

The cream covers of my bed were damp with my sweat. Dark brown hair that stuck to my colorless cheeks were rough as they chafted against the pillows. Even though I woke up, I was proud of myself that I was able to go to sleep until eleven thirty-three as I sat up to look at the pale green light that came from my alarm clock. The dull light just added to the comparison of the blinding jade green and yellow Sun of my home in Jacksonville. Having a nightmare about my home was what woke me up.

The only color I saw now was a dark grey blanket outside my window. Raining. Its as if Atlanta itself wanted me to get out of it's borders.

Wildly scrambling out of my bed, I reached for my phone only to get my escape hindered by the sticky sheets. Crap, let me go you fuckers, I cursed as I thrashed desperately to grab the phone on the bedside table. Finally reaching it, I dialled the numbers even though I knew Evelyn would be zonked out into a coma by now, I needed to hear my mothers voice.

Finnally escaping my bed, I reached for the lamp. My apartment room was quite high even through my wishes for a lower room where said loud and clear, Evelyn found it convienant to be selectively deaf that day.

Grabbing the phone and dialing even though I knew that there was a possibility that she was asleep, my lungs protested as their need for oxygen became known. Looking around for my oxygen line, I knew I must have thrashed although the night, knocking the oxygen off my face.

Noting that I should take a shower for my pajamas were sticking uncomfortably to almost every surface of my skin, I stomped over towards my dresser searching for an outfit that was a bit less hot than sweatpants and a sweat shirt. Around the fifth ring, I started to panic.

"Alice?" Evelyn's pleasant voice sounded from the phone. Walking over to sit on the bed, I took a second to fully appreciate my mothers voice.

"M-Mom, I," My voice trembled and I took a deep breath. "Mommy, I'm sorry," I curled up on the moist covers as I et myself surrender to the crushing and irrational grief. She gasped. And for good reason too - I barley remember the first time I cried; it was because I had accidently squashed a fragile lady bug between my fingers when I was twelve.

"Oh baby, why are you sorry?" she sounded as surprised as I felt.

"I-I woke you up." I rasped softly into the phone, guilt becoming my main emotion. I didn't feel better as I looked at the dark mahogany and light cream theme colors of the apartment. The mahogany was the flowering and the furniture while the soft cream was the walls and the drapes. Nothing like the pearl grey and faded red of the Verona tiled themes back home in Jacksonville.

She laughed. I scowled at the phone; the device wasn't doing a good job on interpreting her voice. Evelyn's voice was quite appealing to me - then again she was my mother. "Baby, I was already awake - y'know, how Carlie is around this time. I had to pack some of her things after I did some packing of my own. In all honesty, I think she's trying to delay the trip! If she is, then I don't know what she's thinking if she thinks that she's going to get away with not packing - or if she thinks that me packing myself will slow us down!" She was still laughing at chastised delight towards my eight-year old sister.

I grew wary knowing that I was going to get in some trouble for my answer. "I honestly don't blame her, nor would I be surprised if she was - she's a crafty little girl." Sometimes I did question how smart she was though. Once when I was babysitting her, I turned around for a grand total of thirty seconds to find her snacking on glutton-free crayons.

"Devion Lane McAlister," her voice grew an octave and her tone held a warning as she slipped into her true southern accent that she always tried to hide.