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Seven Years Ago

1. Seven Years Ago

I want to introduce myself and my family formally, as possible as I could.(I hope it is formal for you!)

They called me Meg, just like a mag in short for magazine. While my name Meg is in short for Megatron. Well, without so much ado, I’m Megan Anderson. I got these round eyes that looked like an owl, long wavy blonde hair that fits in my blue eyes. I got two normal siblings: Thomas and Kippy, which her name sounded like a brand name of junk foods. Thomas died at the age of seven when I celebrated my 12th birthday. A car hits him when he rides his new bicycle given by my father, John, one of the most common names in the world. It was a tragic scene. And, my mother’s name is Elisa.

I was normal before I celebrated my 12th birthday and before I turned into a so-called-crazy-girl-who-sees-ghost. I was twelve when Thomas died on the afternoon of my celebration, and when Kippy went traumatized at the scene and never dared to speak a word again.

So here’s the elaboration of stepping the age of 12 including the not so important characters in the story, including the balloons and cake, together with my friends which I don’t want to introduce their name, and the list went on including the ants on our lawn.

Late morning of August 18, 2001 I celebrated my 12th birthday on our lawn. I invited my girl friends including the two guys whom I thought that they love me by just reading their faces and actions for weeks. The first guy was Edward, my neighbor just beside our house, who always wore eyeglasses and a shirt that tucked into his khaki matched with his brown leather belt and Adidas shoes. Findings: I don’t like him.

The other guy was Chip, he’s hot when he wore those body fit tee shirt and there I could see the form of his man boobs. He got this eye that could melt all the women except my grandma who hated him since he saw Chip. That boy is your curse! She always said that to me. How come a hot guy became a curse? Maybe grandma was having her menopausal stage. Well, I’m proud to be one of Chip’s friends. Findings: I loved him.

Both of them gave me gifts. Edward, whom I didn’t like, gave me a book entitled How to Be a Good Writer?

“Thanks,” I sourly said to him without any interest of “How to” books.

How to Pee?

How to Eat?

How to Be a Human?

I placed the unwrapped, unprepared, uncovered, book without even a ribbon or a note together with the gifts I didn’t like, like picture frame without a picture of mine and a plate without a food. And for the Guinness Book of World Record, it was my first time to receive an odd gift which fits only for wedding gifts (plates, and other kitchen utensils for the newly wed couple.)

Chip gave me nothing but a kiss on my lips when he told me to go with him at the back of our house while everyone was so busy eating. It was the best gift I ever had, and the best birthday gift I received at the age of twelve.

“Why a kiss?” I asked him, as my heart rejoices hearing the song of the seraphim above.

“So you can remember me every time you’ll see your beautiful lips in the mirror.”

I blushed, and I could felt the heat on my face. That was my first kiss from a man.

As the half-boring-half-satisfied-party (like mermaids) went on, I saw Edward sat alone together with his uneaten plates on the table calling his name just to take a bite. I wondered why weird people wanted to be alone, or maybe they just don’t like to act normal like most of the American guys do. But still, I went to sit beside him.

“hi there,” he stuttered, “happy birthday.”

By just looking at him seemed like I’m solving a cold, hard math.

“Thank you for the gift.”

“I’m sure you’ll like it, it will pass the time when you’re alone. And I hope you’ll learn to write. It’s fun, you know, I also write stories. I even had one novel. You want to read?”

“What?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I mean, sure,” I told him and gave a fake smile.

He smiled.

Just like a lightning, and a fast bullet, everything happened so fast. I heard a car’s tire screech, together with a shout of my mother that echoed and stopped the party. Everyone stood and saw the scene. Terrible and unexplainable scene. Thomas’ body was beneath the car including the new bicycle that nearly splits into two. My jaw dropped, and couldn’t shed a tear. I felt shock and stunned. A horrendous scene like one of Stephen King’s movies. One by one they ran away with tears and never ending shout---looking terrified.

“MEGAN!” father exclaimed and hugged me trying to block my vision so I couldn’t see the scene. I could smell his bad breath.

“TOMMY! WHERE’S KIPPY? MEGAN! TOMMY!” mom kept shouting like enumerating the saints.

“OH MY GOD!” some shouted.

“Call an ambulance!”

“JESUS MARY JOSEPH!” the old man said like it was a full name of a gay person.

Kippy stared blankly at the scene, as her tears rolled down coursing her cheek. Then there was a cold wind that I felt from behind. I saw Thomas with a bicycle. I saw him. But then I blinked. He vanished, just like common movies in the Hollywood. I moved back my head towards the car, smelling father’s breath, and seeing the bloody body of Thomas beneath it.

I heard the wail of ambulance and I started to sob.