My Perfect Summer

Chapter 11

RENEE

"Renee, breakfast is ready!" my Mother shouted from downstairs, her voice sounding strained.

"I'll be right there!" I shouted from upstairs, putting my curly hair up in a bun.

Once I entered our overly huge kitchen downstairs, I spotted my mother pouring coffee into her mug. She was dressed in red and black plaid pajama bottoms and an oversized black tee.

My mother was gorgeous, she had brown skin, curly hair, which she usually straightens, and an amazing body figure. That's where I inherited my curly hair and the darker part of my skin.

My hair wasn't as curly as hers, and my skin wasn't as brown as hers, because of my father. He had fair skin, and straight brown hair, that began to turn gray. And he had the body of a hockey player.

My parents looked like models.

My Father, Jonathan Alder was a successful private lawyer, and my mother, Olivia Alder, is a real estate agent.

I've looked up to my parents for as long as I could remember. They'd always been in love, successful, beautiful, and overall had a happy life. Of course, things changed when my Father passed.

My Mother was constantly putting on a smile for me. When she didn't need to because I knew what she was going through. And what she and I were going through wasn't at all pretty.

It looked horrible. And it felt horrible.

Like there was no meaning to life anymore. It felt like everything was completely meaningless and helpless.

So seeing my mother's red-rimmed eyes, while she smiled at me, broke my heart into pieces. Losing a lover was probably one of the most heartbreaking experiences someone could ever go through.

"Mom.." I said feeling completely helpless.

"No, no, I'm okay," She said.

I rushed to her, and hugged her tight as she broke down into tears, "It's okay, I know," I repeated to her.

Seeing someone you love sad, and crying causes something in you to break, because as my mother cried in the crook of my neck, tears slowly began to fall out of my eyes.

My heart felt like it was going to get up and fall out of my chest.

At times like this, when I cried myself to sleep. I just questioned Why, why, why to myself because why would anything like this happen to such a good man?

And it wouldn't just affect the person, it affected those who were around them.

Those who loved them.

My mother and I then slowly collapsed to the floor, both of us crying now.

You could hear our tears echoing from the silent room.

"My Johnny, why, why my Johnny," my Mother said as she cried.

"Mom," I said pushing through, my voice sounding strained, "we'll get through this, okay? Dad would've wanted us to see the best in things."

I wiped the tears out of my eyes. Although, that was completely useless because tears just came rushing back out.

"Yeah," my Mother said, sniffing, "he would've. I'm sorry." She said getting up and cleaning her face.

"It's okay, I know how it feels," I replied.

Once my Mother had sorted herself out she said, "How about we eat breakfast, freshen up, then go shopping."

"Shopping? That sounds nice," I said.

"It won't be a cure, but a solution to this mood," she said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

"A shopping solution, I like it," I replied imagining it.

"Mhm, so eat your breakfast, while I go take a shower and get ready," she said exiting the room.

It was the reminders of my Father that hurt. Just thinking about how life was then. Life with him in it. All the memories that reminded me of him.

Reminders of him hurt my mother too. And I'm pretty sure she was just as broken as I was and felt. Completely intangible.

I was like a puzzle you couldn't put back together.

The pieces were already broken. But the thing about puzzles is that you can put the pieces back together.

Except for my puzzle, I feel like I'm completely unable to put the pieces back together.

Maybe if I had that summer love,  or someone that was there for me, that saw the little things that no one else did, and cared for me like no other, maybe just maybe they'd help me find that brighter picture.

Maybe they'd help me see the light again.

To have the perfect summer. My Perfect Summer.