I Am

Chapter 3

I woke the morning after Peter asked me to be his girlfriend in a very good mood. I didn't care about anything else except that I knew someone cared for me. After I took a shower I put on my best jeans and a pretty shirt, swept on a bit of make-up, and braided my hair. For some reason I felt like looking pretty.

I walked into the kitchen and poured some milk over some steal cereal. My dad was still passed out on the couch from the night before. My mom still wasn't home.

Ever since my grandma died 7 years ago my mom and dad haven't been the same. My dad was extremely close to his mother. One day she suddenly went into cardiac arrest and never made it out. She had no heart problems or anything. After the funeral my dad didn't know what to do with himself. He started drinking heavily to ease the pain. My mom got mad at my dad for being drunk all the time. It didn't matter to him. He eventually got fired from his job and hasn't even tried to get a new one since. My mom just got more mad at him. Then one night they were in a terrible argument and he hit her. Slapped her straight across the cheek. She just ran out of the room crying. After that my mom spends more and more nights out. I can't even remember the last time my mom and dad shared even a simple kiss. When they're around each other they just argue. He still hits her but she won't leave him.

As I was finishing up my cereal I saw Peter pull into the driveway. I grabbed my book bag and said "Bye, daddy!" As I ran out the door, though I doubt he heard me.

"You look pretty today," Peter said as he opened the passenger door for me.

"Thanks," I replied with a slight blush in my cheeks.

"Did you sleep well last night?" He asked.

"Yeah," I replied, "You?"

"Yeah," He replied.

"Good," I didn't really know what to say. Following was the most awkward silence for about five minutes.

"Hey, I was wondering if you would go to my youth group with me tonight?" Peter broke the silence.

"I'm not really much for church." I replied.

"Oh, it's nothing like you think. It's really fun. We play games and stuff. It's not like a normal church service. And I promise no ones going to pressure you to do anything. Everyone's really nice."

"Well... When you put it that way....." I wasn't sure I really wanted to go so I had to put a dramatic pause and drag everything out. "Sure."

"Ok then. You can come to my house after school if you want and I'll drive you to youth with me."

"Perfect."

By the time we finished our conversation we were in the school parking lot. The parking lot was quite a hike from the actual campus, about half a mile, so we still had a pretty long way to walk. It was such a beautiful day in mid-March. One of those days that weren't too hot or too cold. It was a perfect morning when Peter reached over and grabbed my hand. We held hands as we walked on campus on the beautiful morning in mid-March.

We walked up to his friends. They looked a little confused when we walked up holding hands. Most of them didn't recognize me so they proceeded to ask questions about who I was. Peter introduced me as his "girlfriend, Briella." See, normally I don't hang out with anyone before school. I just go to my quiet corner near the library and sit or stand there listening to music blaring from my earbuds. But today was different. Today I didn't sit by myself in the corner. Today I didn't blare music from my earbuds. Today I talked to people. Today I was hand in hand with my new boyfriend. Today I looked pretty. Today the skies were blue and the air was mild. Today was a beautiful day.

Pretty soon the bell rung and the chitter chatter ended. Since Peter was a senior and I was a Freshman we had to go to opposite sides of campus. He gave my hand a gentle squeeze and kindly said "I'll see you after class."

We both quickly walked off to our classes. Once in class, life went on as normal. Boring classes, homework, the usual. No one else seemed to be any different today. Different? Was I really different? Not really. I guess my mood was a little different but, really, I wasn't any different.

The boring day went on then, after school, Peter and I met up and walked back to his car, hand in hand. Peter's house was about 30 minutes out of town. It was a moderate sized house set in the middle of a ten acre block. The house was one story and painted a light shade of green, I guess olive. It had white shutters around the windows and black shingles on the roof.

When we walked inside I instantly loved the place. It looked so homely. It wasn't spotless, no, it looked lived in. It looked like several pairs of little feet ran around all day, spreading foot prints and spreading joy. Yes, it was a bit messy, but it looked like a home.

We walked into the kitchen where we were greeted by an older man, Peter's father. He had kind, gentle eyes, blue like Peter's. He had wrinkles around his eyes and on his forehead. His hair was graying. He looked like he had been through a lot of grief and sadness, but yet he radiated a kind of gentleness and kindness like no one else I had ever met.

"Hi there, you must be Peter's new girlfriend." Even his voice was kind.

"Yes, I'm Briella. You're Mr. Hamal?"

"You and Peter look splendid together." He spoke like a very sophisticated and knowledgable man.

"Do you have other kids, Mr. Hamal?"

"Yes, my wife and I have four adopted children. A 7 year old boy, a 5 year old girl, and 2 year old twin girls."

"Wow, you have a lot of kids."

"My wife and I love children." Just as he said that the five year old and seven year olds came running through the kitchen.

"Slow down!" Mr. Hamal said, sternly but kindly. The kids immediately obeyed him. He just radiated that kind of energy. He was kind but a leader.

Peter guided me into the living room where his two little sisters were playing with baby dolls. I suddenly felt very shy. I didn't really know these people. Of course they were all nice but I didn't know them and I, naturally, have been a shy person since birth, I suppose. Peter and I sat down on the couch, but not too close to each other, and Peter turned on the TV. We watched Disney's Tangled with his little sisters playing dolls in the background. A seriously romantic afternoon.

Before long, Mr. Hamal came to tell us that dinner was ready. We sat down at their kitchen table and ate the best spaghetti that I've had in a long, long time. Then Peter and I left for his Wednesday night youth group meeting.

"Peter, where's your mom?" I asked while we were driving.

"Uhm, my mom, she... she died." He replied quietly.

"Oh I'm so sorry." I truly was sorry. He looked really upset.

"No, it's ok. She died in a car accident about a week before Christmas two Christmases ago." His eyes were brimming with tears.

"That's horrible. And with five kids. I'm so sorry Peter." I looked over and saw a tear rolling down his cheek. Now I was about to cry.

We sat in silence the rest of the way to the church.