The Life You Look Over

The whole story

I am stunned when I hear the beeping of my alarm clock. It blinks that the time is here, to leave the safe haven of my dorm to finally come home.  I’m up and ready to go out the door in ten minutes. I leave the dorm quietly and close the door shut, leaving just a single click of the lock.

           The bus clatters and coughs with all of the weight it’s holding.  I hold on, hoping to not fall into the crowd of people. We finally reach the airport and everyone stampedes out.  I run to where my flight is and enter this vehicle that will take me to what I have to call “home”. I find my seat among the sea of navy blue rows and I plop down in my seat, waiting for announcements to be made.

           I listen to the wind outside of my window rush by as the airplane lands in the state of pretty beaches and wild parties, California. After I struggle off of the plane with all of my luggage, I sit in the ‘pick up” area of the airport. I look out the giant glass panes and watch as another airplane is blown into the sky.  After ten minutes of adjusting to the bright sun of California, I look at the clock. Time seems to be taking forever to pass by. Finally after an hour of boredom, I see the sky blue car that is my ride to hell. Right inside the car is Satan himself.  The sad part about it is, he’s my father. My big, evil, stinky father.

I exit the terminal with a sigh and watch as the big fat troll slams the car door.  I throw my luggage into the trunk that smells like melted candy bars and old cheese. I watch as the man’s black beady eyes stare at me with such hatred and concentration that it looks like his eyes will pop out any minute now. Right when I step into the car, he complains about me tracking dirt on to his “new” car mats. I don’t understand his logic because my shoes are considered spotless to his. On the whole way home my father complains about everything and tries to put the blame on me. One topic that he ridiculously added was the quality of his food. How am I supposed to affect how bad their food tastes when I’m all the way in Japan?

         Finally we reach what everyone in my family calls “home”.  My father slams his car door for the second time of the day and complains about how he has to do everything even though he just drinks beer and watches TV all day. I grab my bags and head to my safe haven of peace. I run up to my room, before anybody even notices that I’m home. After about 15 minutes of unpacking, I hear a soft knock at my door. I open the door myself to let my guardian angel in.  My mother hugs me tightly before I can do anything and tells me how much she’s missed me.  I hug her back and let her warm aura take over. She’s the only reason why I even come home every summer.

           After our moment of bliss, I see her eyes glisten and a smile across her face. I smile back and tell her all about Japan. All of the love and warmth in the room disappears in an instant when we hear stomping up the stairs then shuffle of slippers. In the corner of my eye I see my mom stiffen and a single drop of sweat trickle down her head.  Before my mind even has time to think about the idea, I drag my mom into the closet and reassure her that I will take care of it.  I open my door before my father can rip it off.

           “Where’s your mother?” he yells.

           “She went to buy groceries for your dinner.” I lie.

           My father smiles slyly and wobbles away, leaving only the noise of his shuffling behind. When I hear his door slam I run downstairs and check for anything I can use to cook tonight’s dinner. Nothing, completely nothing. In the cupboards, in the refrigerator, there’s nothing I can use. That troll eats more than I expected. Right when I think of leaving to buy groceries, I hear a door slam. All of the blood drains out of my face when I notice his footsteps are heading towards my room. I bolt up the stairs and right as I am about to reach the door, I trip. My father's face zooms towards the sound of the crash. His face starts to burn red and his hands ball up into fists. I apologize quickly and dash for my room before he can blink. When I enter my room my mom's face turns pale and cold but all the warmth that left came back when she recognized it was me. My mother walks towards me and hugs me tight. I lose myself to her warmth and fall into a deep slumber.