Promises Are Made To Keep (On Hold)

Promise If I Could I Would

The next couple of days were worst than the one before. Jake and I didn't go to school, not like I wanted to anyway. I didn't even want to go to the house that I once called home. It's not home to me anymore. Nowhere is home to me. My home died with my parents.

Jake and I spent the next two days packing up things that we wanted to take with us to Aunt Elizabeth's house. I tried to sound happy when she told us that we're going to live in Montana with her and her family. Oh, I mean my family.

Jake wanted to take his whole room, including his bed and dressers. Aunt Elizabeth said that he didn't need to bring his bed or dressers because there is already a bed and dresser in his new room. But he threw a big tantrum and said that he wanted his new room to look like it does now with the same bed and dresser. Aunt Elizabeth gave in and said fine.

I didn't want to bring much. Just my clothes, shoes, makeup, jewelry, all the family photos, my laptop, my guitars, my violin, and my piano keyboard. When I was four my Mom took me to my first piano lesson, and from then on I fell in love with music. When I was seven I asked for a guitar and taught myself how to play. Then when I was nine I had violin lessons. I used to perform in front of my parents all the time.

I was packing up my things when Aunt Elizabeth burst into my room. Before she could talk I said, "We always knock twice before we walk into someone's room." I looked down at the shirt I was holding. "My Mom made up that rule."

She gave me a sincere smile then said, "You have a visitor, do you want me to let him up?"

Him? I'm pretty sure my four best friends said they were coming over. "Um, sure." I said. Then Aunt Elizabeth walked out my room.

Not even five seconds later Marcus was standing in my doorway. I didn't acknowledge him, I just started folding more clothes and putting them in the suitcase. Why was he here? He said that I wasn't his best friend.

He walked in my room some more and closed the door. He came up and sat across from me and started helping me fold my clothes. "Sorry about your parents." He said breaking the silence.

Then anger started boiling inside me ready to explode. "Look, I don't need anyone to pity me. It's not your fault my parents are dead so you don't have to be sorry. If you are just going to feel sorry for me then you can leave." I said, tears rolling down my cheeks.

Marc looked surprised for a moment. Then that surprised face turned into a concerned face. He moved around the suitcase and sat next to me. He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me closer to him.

My head was laying on his chest and I could hear the steady beating of his heart. Then the sound of the heart monitor came back to me. It was beeping faster than normal. Then the beep got long and Mom stopped breathing. She was gone.

I cried even harder now. Marc stroked my hair trying to comfort me but all it did was remind me of how my Mom was stroking my hair right before she died. "It's ok, everything is going to be fine." Marc said attempting to calm me down.

"That's what she said," I said, "That's what she kept telling me. She lied. Everything isn't fine. Nothing will ever be fine because she isn't coming back. Neither of them are."

"Jamie, you need to understand that just because they are gone you can't stop living your life. Do you have grandparents?" He asked.

I don't see what my grandparents have to do with this but I shook my and said, "They died when I was little."

"Now did your parents give up on their life when their parents died?" I shook my head. He continued, "So you can't give up on yours."

I began to get angry again. "Who the hell said anything about giving up on my life? 'Cause I sure as hell didn't. I recall myself saying that nothing will ever be fine but I didn't say anything about giving up on my life."