COLD. That was all I felt. All the heat rushing out of my body in one swift blow of the artic like wind. The wind nipped at every inch of my exposed skin.
Well I guess it should've been something I expected running through the bustling streets of LA at eleven pm. Funny thing about it is, the streets are quiet save for the few cars driving past every so often.
I was drenched head from toe in the late April rain showers. I guess we were finally being rewarded water from our plethora of droughts throughout the year.
You'd think I would've at least grabbed a jacket before leaving out but I didn't.
I was to occupied trying to erase the image of my mother shoving her tongue down a man's throat that sure as hell wasn't my dad.
I was coming downstairs to get a drink of water the same time my dad was pulling in the driveway in front of our house. My mom's room door had been close for a considerably long time, until id heard open minutes before. To consumed by my dad's arrival I didn't pay attention to the smacking of lips by the front door. My first assumptions were that it was my mom and dad doing the whole "I'm gonna eat your face off" battle. I'd take that any day over what I had saw. Thinking it was my mom and dad I headed back upstairs to avoid any, awkward encounters.
i halted in my steps do to a lot of commotion followed by "What the hell is going on, Walter?!".
That's when time just stood still. I was frozen in place. I was to busy trying to make sure I was hearing correctly.
I was confused, hurt, sympathetic but most of all disgusted.
I mean I wasn't really all that surprised my mom was being a whore I mean don't get me wrong I love and respect my mom or better yet respected my mom until this whole tonsil hockey and teenage like hormones predicament occurred . But I had my suspicions.
For example, and here's just one, couple of months ago she'd made it clear that I were to call her before coming home.
Another example she'd started to try to get me to stay out of the house, constantly telling me that I needed sunshine or I'd become an old cranky woman at the age of seventeen.
I was disgusted because the person my mom was conducting her infidelity with was none other than Walter Brootwig , my dad's best friend but what I know him as, Coach Broot my head coach of the soccer team at my school. The same team that I'm captain of. Considering the fact that the two dated in high school is another thing
that kinda set me off.
I guess they had a spark reunite between them.
But the thing that really had me nauseous was the fact that my mom looked totally nonchalant about the whole situation like she do anything wrong.
But what pushed me over the edge was witnessing my dad's face crumble as the scene unfolded right before him. And that's when I darted for the door and how I ended up right here at the beach in the pelting rain in nothing but mickey mouse pajamas.
