Sincerely, Jonah

Chapter 1

September < 3

If a genie popped out of my bedside lamp, I would close my eyes and wish for 3 things:
1: I wasn't such an outcast.
2: My mom would be in the passenger seat of the car with us so it wouldn't be so quiet.
3: I won't be having to move schools and houses, to a whole different city full of people I can't even understand. Literally.

I heard most of them speak Gaelic and Polish, which doesn't make things easier on our end. I guess my only friend here would be a translator.

My father and I are in the car of our red Chevrolet driving to a town they call Seafield. I heard nothing about it so I did a ton of research on my laptop on the way there. Before we moved, my dad was looking into this place and when he told me about it, I completely flipped. I told him no and that I wanted to stay here and he said it's what my mom would've wanted for us: A new beginning. Yeah. Screw that.

I went for walks every morning and night to clear my head. I played my guitar and read books during my freetime. I ate a lot, painted even more, joined clubs, slept.I was doing just fine at my average, boring, teenage life. But then she left. Then our voices echoed around the house, and her wardrobe and makeup remained untouched- so untouched, dust started to collect not long after. My dad stayed busy in his workshop 24/7, trying not to fall apart.

He put on a smile when I was present and tried his best to comfort me and make ends meet.Although something changed in him, everything changed in me. Everything. But that one question I wondered always stuck with me and it's been at the tip of my tongue ever since that night: Why did he let her leave?

We've been on the road for 13 hours with very minimal breaks. He says it'll just take longer to get there if we stop, which I had no problem with at all. I'd rather live and die in this car than be somewhere I've never been; somewhere I'm not familiar with.

We lived in our hometown my whole life and I'm still trying to figure out why he thinks it's a good idea to leave. I left my friends behind and they were the only people who made me feel okay. Now he took that away from me and on top of that, all of the memories I've had with my mom are back at home. Everyone loved her. She was well known in our community considering the fact that she ran the small town bakery for as long as I could remember.

Baking was her thing. Baking was our thing. And now I don't even want to look at a single cupcake or brownie because it reminds me too much of how things used to be. And it hurts. That hurt lingers through me inside and out, like a familiar smell you remember but try to forget.

"You sure you don't want to sit up here so the boxes won't be poking you?" He asked, looking at me through the rearview mirror, both of his hands on the steering wheel.

"I'm fine." I close my laptop and rest my head back. The warm air is blowing in my face as I look out the small window. His old folk music he always plays whenever we're in the truck is hurting my ears. I have a headache.

The roads are so small, with trees crowding us. No other cars are in sight.

I'm wearing black sweatpants with an old beanie I bought at the mall to keep my hair out of my face. My dark brown sweater has lint on it and I've been picking at them the whole car ride. I look at the navigator he has pulled up in the front and it says 1 more hour. Thank goodness. I'm pretty sure I'll leave a permanent print on the seat from how long I've been sitting.
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