At Merriemoore Square

1: Tales of the Traffic Jam

A month later

It all happened so fast, the last time I saw mother was when she kissed my forehead while I was still in my hospital bed. I don't even know if that was a dream, I just felt her caring lips caress my forehead, still half-asleep. It was the same day dad told me she packed her belongings. I wish mom could've at least stayed a little bit more. Dad told me she's in a better place now, I'm hoping dad didn't me she died, but well probably with another man. I wonder where my mother is now, I wonder if she's living somewhere safe, eating healthy, and finally happy.

One thought always lingered in my head ever since the fallout 'Why did mother want a divorce, did she really love me? Love us?' 

I couldn't think of anything else while staring off at the moving scenery beyond the car window. The minute mom left, dad began packing our stuff. It's as if the apartment we had was eating him whole. He said that after he fell unconscious, instead of calling the police, mom called his' therapist instead. He made up his mind after, Dad doesn't take much convincing to accept things, that's what I always liked about him, so we left the silly old urban town behind after we finished packing. Father couldn't bear staying in the house, since he sees it now as a traumatic place because of my mother. He quitted his job the same day so we could move to another town on the other side of the country, to have a new life. 

Dad hated what was on the radio even though he bought a car with one, he said it was all propaganda or something like that. Who would've thought a month after summer had passed and yet it's still hotter than ever? The AC didn't help with the climate either, the humidity would still be roasting me whole even at high speeds. Dad only stopped when we needed to pee, poo, fuel or a tire change, not including farts, he said it was a long trip so he didn't want to waste anytime minding each gas stop's features. We woke up at 2 am to beat the morning traffic, I swear if it weren't for me hiding the coffee bean in the bottom of the luggage, he could've drank 5 cups. And believe me when I say he's in a rush, we had 3 tire changes before hand because of something in the trunk dad won't tell me about, he ended up fixing 2 of those tires because the gas station was too slow.

Being me, I snooped around for information about the town we were going to live in for probably the next forever on the internet. Let's just say, Cooper Lake isn't a bad place to live in, a pretty isolated community, yet somehow a very rich and rural one. It has it's own fishing port, a really bustling town square and... a suspicious record for unsolved missing people cases, maybe I should ignore that, for dad's sakes, we wouldn't want him to be worried for me. And another thing that concerned me is, why did dad choose a town where the only school is an 'All-Boys & All-Girls Boarding School?' it bothers me that I won't be staying with him when school starts, adding to that, me being in a classroom of only boys is a tragedy waiting to happen.

I'm bad at understanding what makes most boys tick, because normally all the things boyish boys would enjoy, I certainly would not, well I tried to enjoy it, but I just couldn't. You could say it isn't hardwired in my brain to feel happiness when I do stuff like that. I don't like sports nor have trouble having any sense to why I should wrestle after nap time. It felt weird in kindergarten, even more in elementary. Weirdly enough I conversate well more with girls than boys, always talking about our favorite soap operas, scented stationaries, baking and even school gossip. I even attained some girlish habits along the way, learning to style long hair and some girls even gave me nail polish before I left. 

Dad didn't seem to mind it though, he always taught me, everything is fine as long as I'm not hurting anyone or myself. One night I took all the girls in my class to dance because they didn't feel comfortable enough to be with the other boys. That was the night I got three stitches, dad found me in a dumpster after locating where my phone was, I couldn't move, all I could do was cry. I couldn't anything when they pushed me down the stairs, nor when they threw a brick at me. 

It wasn't one of my proudest days, my bloody and blistered lips could only mutter weakly when dad rushed me to the emergency room. "Dad, why do they hate me?" 

Dad probably said the truest words I would cherish every single day. "Not everyone hates you, but Not understand you, and Some will be taught to hate even without reason, but everyone can love, it just needs to be understood. Don't worry, I assure you one day those kid will understand. I was like them too when I was your age, ignorant and naive. Do you think your father hates you." 

I couldn't respond, my lips where dry and not a word came from my mouth. My face wet with tears after, I cried to my father all my anguish that day. A pain equal to all the tears I held every time I wanted to breakdown because of things I could never control. That day I came out to my father and he accepted me with open arms, no hesitations. Father didn't stop at that, he went to school and hunted the poor bastards, until each of the boys had bulging black eyes.

*BEEEP

Finally caught by the morning stoplight, a construction happening on the other side of road meant that we'd be moving slow. Traffic jams are a test of my father's patience, I usually try to help father avoid a new high score for road rage. Last time he had one, 3 cars were damaged and one kid got sent to the hospital, that 7 year old kid was me, only broke my wrists, I have experienced worse. 

"Darn it, if they would only stop fixing the normal roads and start making new ones!" "New roads?" Father's talking about something nonsensical again "You know, they would bulldoze roads that are already made and still intact just to make it anew again, I bet it's all their cheap intent to give an illusion of the government doing something" Father had been a conspiracy theorist in his early days of high-school, old habits never die huh? 

"Quite the conspiracy you have their, dad" 

I swear this traffic jam is taking bits of his' sanity one by one. "Okay dad, why don't we play I spy" "Like old times? Didn't you tell me directly that you don't want to play anymore, because it's for kids?" I did tell him that, but to give context to why I did that, I hate that he always lets me win. "Come on dad, I spy for funsies?" "For funsies, is that a new word" "It's... It's just another way for saying fun...nevermind."

Forming a circle with his thumb and pointer finger, his gaze dwelled jokingly around the surroundings. As if getting an idea, his brows sprang up with a grin forming. It was at times like this I remember how fun and childish dad is, behind that tough shell he needed to pursue, was a fragile heart. Finally he stopped and said "I spy with my old and bigoted eye, the greatest kid on earth" He sought to look at me "Just earth? Are there other aliens greater than me, dad?" "Probably" I can't believe he said that, I throw a box of tissues at him jokingly. 

"I hate you" "I'm joking" His cheek perks up, lips to a grin. A warming smile that breaks all my feeling of discomfort.

A couple minutes later, an inviting sign was just beyond the distance, 'Cooper Lake Town'

"Oh we're here" Dad joyfully muttered "..." You could say I still have fragments of my being not wanting to settle in with a new life. Hello new life, what new problems do you intend to give me this time.