Back to the Beginning

Chapter 1: The Actual Beginning



This town cannot get any quieter. Its as if everyone is sleeping day and night. My town, Plaines, was really a let down.
I mean, come on. It's even called plain. Although iv lived here my whole life and have had some pretty good times, i sure as hell am not planning on living here for the rest of my life.

The town square is always empty, although the old-fashioned, antique lamps and cobblestone paths are really a sight to see, its hard to enjoy it when theres no one to share it with. Besides, after a while, people get bored of the same old thing everyday. I am one of those people.

The town stores, from the pretty, little dress shops to the antique shops filled with useless things that are bought anyway by the classy, delusional people in this town.
Like me.
I remember the first time i walked into the towns antique shop. I distinctly remember the chime of the rusty bell on top of the white, oak door. It wasnt very grand, everything was stacked on top of each other. Books and books stacked, covered in dust and some falling apart, the covers ripping at the seams.

I was too short at the time to look over all the shelves. A soon-to-be 9 year old in an antique shop, trying to take it all in but somehow it was impossible. I realized that the things in that shop were endless, each year, almost everyday i find something new.
The thing is, i never bought anything after the first time i went in there. I remember the first time i saw the necklace. It was laying on top of some other bracelets in a glass bowl, dusty and dirty. Me, being the special little 8 year old that I was, I loved those kinds of objects.

It was bronze, the shape of an anchor with a rope snaked around it. A little rust and dust didnt do it much harm, only made it look more antique and special, like everyone wanted it but no one wanted to touch something that's probably been there for oh so long.

It reminded me of my dad. That wasn't a bad thing though. The memory of my father isn't a scarring backstory that i never want to bring up. In fact, i love talking about it. It kept him alive to me, or at least the thought that he was once a living, breathing, hard-working person on this planet like the rest of us.

He was in love with the water. Understandable, since we lived near the coast our whole life. Boats were his thing, the kind that you round a bunch of people up and take a trip around the water, taking in the sight of our lovely land.

In fact, he loved the water so much, he went in it. In his own boat.
The family boat.
The River Boat.
Ha, yeah, our last names River.
How ironic is that.

The police told us the storm flipped over the boat. But we all knew something was wrong that night before the call even happened, even though i was only seven, i had a feeling inside me that made me feel empty and lost. Like something was out of order, there wasnt the same humorous, joyous aura around the house that there usually was. Mom answered the phone call, and when she broke down crying against our kitchen wall, i knew he was gone.
He never stayed out that late.
He always came home right after my show came on to sing me to sleep. Always.

I remember waiting in bed, expecting my father to walk in with all the charisma that seemed to just bubble out of him. Expecting him to rush to my pink princess themed bed that every other 7 year old was bound to have, for him to pick me up from under the covers and wrap his arms around me. Instead, i walk downstairs to find my mom broken to pieces.

I'm not sure why, but every now and then i remember the most random things i did with him. Like when i sat on his lap, i messed with his already ruffled dark hair, and i would try to style it like he was my own barbie play doll.
I would always press my cheek to his cheek, because he always left his beard trimmed and styled, and we would rub our cheeks together, causing his facial hair to tickle my face.
Our tickle fights were probably the only fights we had. And i would always lose. But i didnt mind, just the thought that he had so much time for me made me feel like anything was okay. Losing or winning, id be happy as long as he was there with me.

It didnt hit me that he was finally gone until about a 5 days later, on saturday, when i was watching my spongebob marathon all by myself, something we did weekly together. I ran to my mom, crying, shouting, so confused, a little too young to understand why he left us. I still had that feeling, that small bit of hope that i would see him again, but of course, that was my 7 year old brain talking.

The funeral was something else. Of course, they didn't ask me to speak, because i was too young, but i remember how everyone used to look at me with pity, something i didn't understand until years later. I remember my dads work friends, the young looking ones with a full head of hair, they seemed to be the saddest, the only ones who seemed to actually sympathize with me and my mother.

My older brother, Daniel, came to the funeral. He was studying abroad, he always loved geography, every place in the world was always so damn fascinating to him. No doubt, when he heard the news, he broke down crying like the rest of us. I remember when mom couldn't bare to be the one to tell him, so her best friend, Brianna, took the phone from my sobbing mother and did it for her. He came back to Plaines 3 days later, with red, puffy eyes and a giant bear hug for me.

Daniel, or as i always liked calling him, Danny, being the 24 year old that he was, he had to give a speech. I was too young to remember the details, but i remember him being up there, trying to hold in tears, his girlfriend ,Clara, next to my mother and I in the front row. All 3 of them choking back sobs while i, the youngest, was allowed to cry and cry as much as i wanted.

To sum it all up, my father meant a great deal to me. I dont know why i have the ability to remember things from so long ago but he's scarred into every memory i had back then.

Almost 2 year after his death, I'd walked into the antique store and found that necklace. Since i was almost 9, i don't know why i felt the need to earn the necklace myself. Im not sure if it was because my adolescent ego was at large or because it was my father who taught me that the best things are earned in life.

I did all my chores and more. Everyday earning 3 bucks.
The necklace costed 35 bucks.

Id just kept coming in everyday to make sure that the necklace was still there. I became so attached to the necklace, and became very close with the store owner.

"Mr.Randhart, is the necklace still here?" I say, my eyes wide with hope that the necklace that I'd worked so hard for was still available. Sadly the store doesn't keep things on hold, although iv tried before. I pushed pass a little boy who looked somewhat my age at the time, with a little, white bag in his hand and his father and mother right behind him, smiling down at him.

I looked back at Mr.Randhart, who's short brown hair was somewhat taking in a grayish color, i remember thinking how young he looked for an old guy. He scratched the side of his nose with his index finger and sighed.

"Im so sorry, Samantha." He looked down, then his honey eyes darted to the happy little family that walked out the door, "I couldnt keep them from taking it, the little boy insisted." He looked at me with sincere regret but my temper was short at that time.

"Why would you let him take it!" My tiny voice screeched as i turned on my heel and ran out the door, when i hear Mr. Randhart yelling my name but i ignored him and kept running, feeling tears running down my cheeks.
My little legs almost giving out, i spot the boy with the bag at the only ice cream shop in town, and where his parents were, i did not know, but i remembered that i really didn't care at the time.

"You." I pointed my finger right at his face once i reached his table.

"Uh, hi?" He said with high voice, his big, sky blue eyes indicating how clueless and lost he was.

"You took my necklace, that was my necklace." I screeched, and i didnt care who heard me.

"I didn't take anything!" He says, looking even more lost, if it was even possible.

"Yeah, you did, youre so mean! I worked very, very hard for that and i want it back." I demanded, crossing my arms. Thats when I heard footsteps behind me and I turned to see my mom, whose voice pierced my ears as soon as I heard it.

"Samantha Dixie River, what on earth do you think youre doing." She says as she grabbed my hand and dragged me away from the little boy, who scratched his head of dark hair and turned back around. Leaving my sight.

Of course when i got home that day i was given a speech about how life is unfair and that i shouldve learned that by now and blah blah blah and bam.
Grounded.

Whatever, im over it.
Well to this day, I'v never seen that necklace or that boy again.

• • • • •

9 years later, im here. Or should i say
Still here.
All these years have been so hard without my dad, but my mom still keeps us stable with the job she has. She took over the towns bakery, after the sweet old man who once owned it passed away. the jobs seems to suits her well and keeps her happy.
She met someone, he doesn't live here, he lives on the other side of California, where all the superstars are made.

How cliché.

Apparently, he has business in our town almost every week so they do get to see each other often.
But he must be seriously dang rich if he can afford to get to the other side of California every week.
I wonder if he has a big house.
Or a mansion.
Or a palace.

Or all three.
Because frankly, I'd be very happy to visit him for the first time. And maybe it was because we've lived in this apartment for so long, i feel suffocated by the walls of my poster filled bedrooms.

Mom sometimes goes to visit him in his own rich town, the kind with a fancy name that makes you sure there are mansions stacked around in one spot.
GoldenValley.

I mean for God's sake,

Golden Valley.

It sounds like a valley...filled with gold.

Well, i think you get my point. They've been seeing each other for about two years now and it seems as though my mother is very happy.

Iv met him once before, other times i choose to give my mom and Andrew some privacy, given that they dont see eachother everyday.

Mom talks about him 24/7, she goes on and on about how his hazel eyes and built figure. How his full head of black, straight hair makes him look young yet professional.

You'd think that I'd go all teenaged rebel daughter because my mom found someone new already, but honestly i couldnt be happier for her. After dad died, she had gone through this heartbreaking phase, never coming out of her room, but instead of leaving her to rot, I helped her through it.

There was only so much i could do, having been so young and fragile at the time also. But as the years passed, i realized that my mom needs so much more than just me. She needs someone to be her like dad was.

Her other half. Her soulmate. Her best friend.

Kinda wish I had that.

It wasn't that hard for Sandra, my mother, to find a guy like Andrew. With her dark, naturally curly hair almost covering her honey brown eyes, that were both passed down to me, she could get just about anyone. My beautiful mother has a sweet button nose while I inherited my dads abnormally...different nose, with a small bump on the bridge of it.

My mother is a slim woman, while i am incapable of even having my hip bones visible at all. The problem is i like food. Like, a lot.
I'm not one of those girls who cares about how i look like when i eat. I know i should but if i have to use a knife and fork whenever someones around, id probably have a mild heart attack from not shoving food down my throat fast enough.

Seventeen years old and still counting. Well, at least i think still counting. This town is so dull, i think i already died and became stuck in this ghost town i call home.

Im seventeen, yes, but I am done with high school. I graduated about 2 weeks and 4 days ago, to be exact. Cap and gown and all the good stuff.

You can bet the first word that came out of my mouth was finally.

It's hard to think how long ago I lost him, and how much things have changed. I mean, even my only best friend, Taylor, keeps going on and on about how she's leaving me behind for University.

University of California this and University of California that.

But needless to say, my best friend is going to miss me. And I'm going to miss her. But thats still at least 3 months from now and I'd rather not think about losing the only person who understands me. Taylor's been there from the very beginning, even when I got a mild fever and laid in bed for a week, she made chicken noodle soup three times a day. I couldn't look, let alone eat, chicken noodle soup for months. But it was okay, because she was there for me.

She was there for me when I broke my arm falling out a dwindled, little tree in 4th grade.

She was there for me when my 6th grade crush completely, well, crushed me. Apparently, passing notes during class and getting caught by the teacher is not the most affective way to reveal to your crush your feelings for them.

And dont even get me started on how awkward it was for me when on the first day of senior year, the seams of my shirt decided they shouldn't be together, and completely dismantled during trig. And of course, Taylor's there to save the day.

Needless to say, I owe her.




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Hey, guys! Trying out a story. Would seriously appreciate it if you voted and commented. Thanks!

-Wazzi