Long checkered shirts

One.

"What are you writing, honey?" My mother asked.
"The usual." I say.
"Oh,"
"Yeah."

Silence.

"Like the the new stuff that's intr-"
"What do you want mum. Because I know you don't actually care."
"I'm just trying to have a conversation with my daughter."
"No, mum. You and I both know that's not what you're trying to do."
"Yes. Fine. I'm just trying to ap-"

At that moment, Paul saves the day by crying.
I get up from my desk and walk towards him to pick him up, out of his cot.

"I can do that." My mum says, before snatching him out of my hands.
"Be careful! His not a toy you know?!" I say. And sigh heavily. Walking back to my desk.
"I know, I have had two kids before him to take care off."
"One. You've only took care of one kid."
"What I said. The other day I... I-I didn't mean it."
"Yes you did." I say sternly.
"How could you say that? I love all my kids equally."
"Mum you don't love anyone but yourself. Now if you don't mind," I start to put on my jacket, "I have somewhere to be."
"You've finally have a friend?"
"Maybe."
"Oh, I see," she says in a mocking tone.
"What?" I start to smile.
"Is it a boy?" She starts taunting.

I like it when we get along and can joke about each other, I know it won't last long but I love it for the moment we have.

"Hey, Paul stopped crying." I say, avoiding the question.
"Yeah, I guess. I think he just wanted a cuddle?" I saw her eyes light up, and realise, that she can actually love more than one person at a time.

I watch her for a while, with hope in my eyes, and a small smile on my face.
A genuine smile, which I haven't had for a long time.
She is still looking down at Paul, as I start to walk out quietly she says; "you didn't answer the question..."
"It's no-one." I laugh,
"Oh I see,"
"What?"
"I don't mind, you know, if it's a girl."
"Mum!" I say in shock, still smiling.
"What? I just want you to know I have nothing against that."
"I said it's no-one,"
"Oh, you going out, alone?"
"Uh... Yeah, I guess"
"Want us to come" she insists. "Us" she used us instead of me. Maybe she is changing for the better.
"No m, it's okay." I smile at her.
"If I find out you're meeting someone..." She taunts.
That reminds me of Masie and Oscar. I push the thought aside.

I roll my eyes and walk out the door.
Smiling, for once.
Walking outside with a smile, instead of balling out with tears.

I walk down the metal, wet stairs of our building. The rain drops drip off the rusty railings of the thousand year old metal - metaphorical thousand years - and I jog down the steps, as they make the weird clingy sound.

It gets colder, as the British skies of Essex get even more grey than they were before.

It makes me laugh when the sun does actually come out.
All these viral videos of British people panicking about some bright hot thing in the sky, and the grey sky changing into a beautiful blue coulor, that can make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside just by looking at it.

I can't ever really go out in the sun, as I'm practically already translucent, and can get burned even at night.

But to hear these stories of kids my age going on adventures to beaches and woods in parks on sunny days just brings me back to my childhood.
Where I would get pushed on the swing sets by Mark, and see the living looks in my parents eyes when they looked at each other.
To feed the ducks at the pond, and knowing no danger would come from creepy old dudes, who you think were fishing, but actually were eye sing your kid up, and know that the geese, ducks, and ducklings would not harm you, because you had your superman, because I had Mark, when I actually called him dad.

I start to tear up at the memory, and realise that I could never experience anything like that ever again.

It was barely twelve P.M, and it already looked like it was a horrible eleven o'clock night.

I liked the feeling of walking outside in the moonlight, although it is very dangerous so I would never actually do that. Unless I had a like a body guard of some sort that didn't care if I ranted to him or her about my problems and would protect me no matter what.

I laugh as I let my imagination go wild for a bit, until I realise that, that was what my farther used to do. Although I only ranted about Mickey Mouse not being quick enough to find that the thing was obviously right in front of him.
Mark would laugh and just say "yes, you're very right Alex. You just might be too smart for these shows,"
"So does that mean I can now watch grown up stuff, like you and mummy!"
"We will see, but first you need to help Mickey find Pluto's collar!" He would say, showing of his caring smile, and continue watching me instead of actually watching the t.v - which is what my mum told me after he left - because he just likes to see the cute little girl, that could turn into a strong, beautiful lady. And he knew this because I had powerful words that could make men fall to their knees and sob.

I wish he had told me that. Told me that I'm strong. Telling me now that I'm beautiful and don't need to be in a relationship because I had him and Masie and mum.

I stroll down the pavement, slashing every small puddle I see. I smile, as I feel it start to spit, with tiny, soft, salty, cold, refreshing rain drops. The rain can look so pretty in so many ways. On glass, in real life, on camera, in films, in a car, driving down a motor way, falling from the sky, crashing down against the floor, making more and smaller rain drops before evaporating the next day. I can get lost in the rain, that's when I get my most creative thoughts... And deep ones.

I press the button at the crossing on the lights to wait for the green man. These lights can take a century to change, and this road is usually really quiet, but it's an eerie quiets I don't like eerie. But I have time, so I wait. And wait. And wait.

I've waited a lot in my life, for things like, when I was little, waiting for the new barbie doll, when I got older, to see my grandparents and when I got even older...
Waiting for my dad to come back.
Then, waiting for my heart to stop missing him.
Then, waiting for the anger to stop, and the sobbing to stop.
Then, waiting to smile again.
Then, anxiously waiting for my baby brother to be born. But that was a nice wait.

The lights finally start to change from amber, and there was no cars so I start to cross the road, thinking that, that was all that was going to happen, that I would cross the road, and nothing would change because of it - and you can guess where this is going.

Because this crossing was on the stupidest part of the road, it had to be just where a tight turning was, so as I step out on to the road, a car swivels round, the tires go out of control, and the car slips around, swerving and I see the drivers shock as he jerks his leg up and down trying to stop the car.

I knew he was trying, and I could see the tears building up in his eyes, knowing that if I don't move, he would be a murderer.

At that moment I swear, the world slowed down a hell of a lot, I noticed small things and quiet sounds, like a flap of a birds wing in the dark sky, and the way the grass wiggled around, fighting against the strong, bitter coldness of the wind.

I could see one rain drop from the sky, travel all the way down the road I was standing in, to my black and white high tops. Where I realise that I was still standing there, and if I try to run back the way I came, I would for sure die from the impact of the car.

But I couldn't stay still.

So I ran.

To the other side.

Like a classic joke.

Why did the chicken cross the road?
So that she wouldn't die of a head injury.

The world caught up with me, and my legs went as fast as they can.

Until.