The Cycle

CHAPTER 2: PLACE

CHAPTER 2

PLACE

            We walk into the massive house and find Forrest sitting on the couch in the living room watching a college basketball game.

            "Hey, Dad," I call.

            "Hey, Elaina," he says, a gleam twinkling in his eyes as he sees me take a seat next to him on the couch.

            "Watching the big game, I see," I say, not really knowing what the "big game" is. Forrest laughs and it echoes off the walls.

            "How was school?" he asks casually, averting his stare from the TV to me. 

            "Fine," I lie. 

            Forrest's eyes dim a little and I know what he is going to say before he even says it.

            "We have to leave the house bright and early tomorrow morning so we can get to the Children's Hospital before school starts."

            "Okay," I say, a lot less enthusiastic. I slowly tread up the stairs, wanting to dull the hours of the day longer so that it never has to end. I let out a resentful sigh as I enter my boring and bland bedroom. I don't bother removing my boots as I fall face-first on the comforter, my feet dangling off the edge. I roll over on the bed, glaring blankly at the faded light blue ceiling; I painted it with my father when I was really young, the color once vibrant and welcoming. But now, it's a faded reminder of my everyday struggle, a reminder of the things I can never do. And will never be able to do, for that matter.

            I release a frustrated groan and stand up, ambling to my worn-out computer desk and yanking the drawers psychotically. I finally find what I am searching for, a bright turquoise i-Pod, and pick it up carefully, treating it as if it is as fragile as an egg. I open the drawer on my nightstand and untangle the mess of wires before, finally, releasing my headsets. I push the ear buds in my ears, plug the wire into the i-Pod, and search for my favorite musical playlist titled COLDPLAY. I lay on the bed and close my eyes, drowning myself in the well thought out and meaningful lyrics. I daze off into a hazy stupor, singing along to the words of Clocks and The Scientist respectively, although my raspy voice doesn't do Chris Martin justice. I'm in my room for a while when there's a light knock on my door, so light that at first I think I imagine it, but it thuds gently again and I pause right in the middle of Fix You long enough to say, "Come in."

            I half expect it to be Lorraine, checking to make sure I am alright, as she always does when I'm upset, but to my surprise it's Forrest. He waits in the doorframe, smiling at me in a way that makes his face look a lot older than he really is, a smile that causes the wrinkles by his eyes to deepen.

            "Hey, pumpkin," he says quietly. "How are you feeling?"

            I roll over to my side, my back facing him, and dig my head into the crevice of my elbow.

            Forrest sighs, strides around the bed, and sits on the edge of the mattress, causing it to sink a little under his weight. He lays a tentative hand on my back and strokes the area soothingly.

            "What's wrong, Elaina?" he asks.

            I shake my head. "What isn't wrong, Dad?"

            Forrest pulls me up into a sitting position and gives me a gentle hug, placing his chin on top of my hair. I hug him back and begin sobbing, not really understanding the emotion behind the tears.