The Two of us

spring walk

Growing up with boys has never been a problem for me. or at least, a boy. I don't remember his name, but I remember him like a soft comforting movie, but just as a memory. I barely remember his face too, just that he had blue eyes and dark curly hair. but that's it for looks. I remember how close our parents were too, and how he would come over every day and we would spend endless hours together. Sometimes I wonder what happened to us, and I like to pretend that it wasn't entirely my family's fault for us not seeing each other anymore. Even though I know that they were the ones who chose to move. Just 20 minutes away can make a bigger impact on anyone's life than you could possibly imagine. A 20 minute drive means 20 minutes less time for each other. 20 times you see them hang out with other people. 20 days it takes for the both of you to forget each other. And that's what happened, until 20 days ago, when I saw him again. Just out of nowhere. It was like watching that same old soft comforting movie again, just with a person.

Rewind to 20 days ago, it was a Friday.

To my parents, I'm a mentally unstable teenage girl who has no mind, or at least just a mind that knows how to have fun. How to make friends, stay popular, while still doing well in school. However the same mind that has no common sense. The mind that will leave lights on all day, or forget to take her vitamins. That is the mind that gets me in trouble at home. To my parents, it doesn't matter how much they scream at me, or yell at me about those small things, even though I'm still just a kid, who's still just trying to learn. I think that they think this because no matter how many fights or screaming matches they get into with each other they somehow go back to each other every time, without ever damaging one another or their relationship. I don't think they realize I'm not them.

"Hannah, we just want to understand how you can just leave your room a mess. All day! All we ask of, is that you just clean your room! And you know we've been over this and over this so many times, but it just won't stick! Tell me, what do we have to do?"

Mom could scream at me like this for hours, as my dad just sits at the table and sips on a cold green beer. He's probably drunk right now, which means he'll either scream at me way more than her, or just ignore me and argue with her.

"Tell me! Do I have to ground you? Is that what it is?" She continues, and I can feel my nose and eyes start to burn like I just sat really close to a fire. I feel like I could burst out into tears right now, and run away to my room. However , I just shrug, and I think that gets her even more mad.

"God! I can't even look at you. Why can't you just remember the simple shit I ask of you? Right-" Her voice trails off as she looks at dad, who's slowly falling asleep at the table, not aware she was about to refer to him.

"Just— just go to your room. And clean it too, or you're grounded tomorrow as well. I'm going to bed. . " Mom starts to walk over to my dad who's hand has now just pushed over his beer. I flinch at the sound of it, and start to walk off with tears filling my eyes as I hear his drunken laugh. He doesn't even know that he just spilt a beer all over the dark wood table. Mom would absolutely kill me if I did that.

Soon after, I hear them fight, go back and forth pushing each other into the wall, and normally during this time I'd be out with my friends. It's not normal for me to be home on a Friday night right now. or if i was home, I'd blast music through my 6 year old headphones that are probably in their last year of use. However, I can't do that with no phone.

When I hear the sound of a plate crash, I feel the first tear push out of my left eye as I close them shut. I remember reading somewhere that when a tear comes out of your left eye, it's out of true heartbreaking pain. The right eye is normally for happy tears, or you don't really mean the tears you're about to cry. At least I know that this was real pain, and if it was real, then I should probably do whatever I can to get away from it.

That's what my therapist from fourth grade told me, along with the police officer who arrested my first dad when I was 5. It kind of just stuck with me after hearing it two times from two different very important people. However, in my case right now, the only way to escape from this was through my window. It's so easy to sneak out of my house, I'm on the first floor.

Walking over to it, I felt a rush of guilt rush over me. Sometimes when I was little, the only way to stop them from fighting was to go out there and act like I needed something. It stopped them until about an hour later when their minds were replaying all the harsh words they said to each other, and suddenly they had forgotten all about me trying to stop them. All that sadness that went over them seeing me so innocent have to interrupt that, was all gone. I wondered if I did that now, as a 15 year old girl, would it still affect them the same way that the 10 year old girl did? No, not anymore. because i am no longer that girl who was bullied in school after losing all my friends. A mentally challenged little girl. She left when we moved, and she hasn't been back. At least nobody ever hears or sees her, so that's just what they assume. So when she mostly left, a lot of sympathy my parents had from me slipped away. Knowing that, I guarantee that if I went out there now, it'd be like I was a ghost. I remind myself of this as I crack my window open, and softly fall onto the cold damp grass. I think I have a few grass stains on my sweatpants, or my sweatshirt now, but I would rather have those then be in that house for another minute.

I began to run, feeling the warm spring air on my cheeks. It pushed against the few tears rolling against my face, all the way past the yellow street lights and parked cars along neighboring homes. All the way to the sports field, 2 miles away from my house. A huge field that I used to play sports at when I was younger, with all my friends, and a field that my first dad took me to so I could practice soccer, even though I would quit later. It had a football field, baseball grounds, and a soccer field. Bleachers outlined the football field, and a tall great fence around the baseball and soccer area. In the middle of it all was a few green wooden benches, and a snack stand that used to sell the best candy. Normally I was always here with my friends or family, coming to friend's games, or my own, but now I was just here alone. Hannah, a young teenage girl all by herself at night.

As I arrived, I quickly caught my breath, and went over to the nearest one of the fields, football. I made my way over to the bleachers, and sitting down I immediately felt a cold sting on my legs. Even though it was the middle of spring, one month away from summer, the bleachers were as cold as ever. I felt a chill run down my spine as my surroundings finally sunk into me. Over to my left was a guy, I couldn't tell how old he was. He sat there, wearing a black sweatshirt, his hood on, with black sweatpants and white sneakers. A purple vape in his right hand. I hadn't even noticed he was there before, I would've tried to look more at his features. I wondered if he noticed me back. His phone was in his lap, projecting a bright light that lit up where his face was. If I leaned forward just a bit more, I could probably see it, but then he would definitely know I was looking at him, and to be honest I'm kind of surprised he doesn't see me right now. I thought I was being just a little bit obvious, just to let him know like hey, I know you're there so don't try and do something I wouldn't do. And then he looked over at me. He finally turned around to look at me, and I quickly looked away, fast enough where my eyes didn't meet his, and I went to grab my phone, completely forgetting it was taken and I didn't have one. Now this was awkward. He knew I was looking at him. Was he still looking at me? I turned around so quickly I barely noticed anything about him. I just know he had light skin, and I think dark hair. maybe it was just his hoodie though, truly I have no idea. Now I was curious to know who this boy next to me was. Besides, if he tried to kidnap me and I made it to the police, I'd want to give a detailed response. So I sneak another look, and right away he looks straight at me. I begin to turn my head away quickly when he shouts out,

"Hey, don't turn around this time!" I'm not sure if I should be scared, or nervous, or whatever. There's a guy sitting all the way over on my left, super far away, who's trying to talk to me. At night. Maybe normally I'd go on my phone and walk home, pretend like I didn't hear him, but I can't do that now. So I looked directly at him. and that's when I really see his face.