Waiting... for You

Waiting... for You

Grabbing the old pink sheets on my bed, I cry out “Mom, I don’t want to go.”  The day I have most dreaded is here - saying goodbye.

“Honey, I know it’s hard for you, but you need to let him go. I know you were in “love”. You are only sixteen, love comes and goes,” my mother says, sitting down on my bed with me. This only makes me cry. 

“It would have been me.” I tell her, “It should have been me.” I’m screaming now. “I hate myself. I hate myself.” I repeat as my screams turn to sobs.

“Oh baby,” she says “it’s ok, it’s ok.” Mom hugs me close, while rubbing my long red hair.  

“I could have protected him,” I say “ he invited me and I said no. I said no.” I pick up a pillow and throw it at the wall. My jeans are probably soaked with tears by now. 

Mom says something, but I can’t hear her. I feel something missing inside me. 

Love....

Throwing on my favorite grey leather jacket, I walk out the door. It is a fairly nice day in Lightwood, Ontario. The sun is shining and the clouds are gone. I don’t really care though because I’m really tired.

Last night I couldn’t sleep. All I could think about was how Bradley was gone forever. I tried to think of other thoughts, but Bradley keeps coming back into my mind. I will never experience his kisses or hugs again. Never will I fight with or see him again. All I have now are memories.

I can picture his brown curly hair and perfectly tanned skin while wearing his favorite polo shirt, blue jeans and an AC/DC sweater. His blue eyes would be staring down at me when he came to pick me up from school. Sadly, now I have to get a ride to school with mom.

“Come on honey. Let’s go, you’re going to be late for school.” mom says from the car. 

“Coming!” I yell out, while dashing over to the car. I really don’t want to go back to school. I want to sit home, listen to depressing music (that makes me feel better about my life) and eat a liter of ice cream. That’s never going to happen. I just need to get through this day. I have to keep telling myself this.

As I sit down in the car mom says, “Where is your backpack?” Oh my gosh, I forgot it inside. That’s the first time I have ever forgotten my backpack.

I need to man up and suck it up. The last thing I need to do is cry again. Grabbing my backpack I see something, a blur. A blur that looks like Bradley. His death is messing with my head. I can’t stop myself - I run over the grass to the blur. I’m a fool; it’s nothing. 

“Come on, Winter. Now, I’m going to be late for work!” mom shouts at me. I run over to the Jeep. I sit down on its comfortable leather seat. Mom looks at me strangely and we are off. I take one more glance at my safe, small house and say goodbye.

When I walk into St. Karen School everyone is starring at me. I saw most of them at the funeral. They watched me cry as they put Bradley’s body into the cold ground in the old graveyard. 

The halls seem to new to me without an arm wrapped around my shoulder. The dented wood floors and crusty brick walls all look different. They seem much sadder. 

Caroline, my best friend runs up to me waving like a little child. Her blond hair looks great in our school uniform. Unlike me, her blue eyes match her hair, my blue eyes makes my hair look dyed. She is as perfect as Barbie.

“Hi.” she says sympathetically, “How are you?”

“Fine.” I say. I hate her sympathy. It makes me feel like a child. “Come on let’s go. We’re going to be late for English.”