A Week With Andrea

Chapter 8

     I've never given much thought to my future. All I knew was one day I'd grow up and forget everything else. Maybe get a husband and some kids. Maybe land a job at a top firm. Or maybe stay a housewife. But like I said,  i never really allotted time for these thoughts. I was always stuck in the past. The things I've done, things I regret and things that make me, "me".  Sometimes I'd wonder what if my dad never left? Would things be the same? Would it be better? Would it be worse? It never really bothered me that I didn't have a father. Well not until other kids stared at me during father's day celebration in my old school. All the dads were present, except mine. I sat alone with a rose in hand and no one sat beside me. I wanted to cry that day because of all the attention I was getting. Unwanted attention.

On that day, a friend of mine, Gio, was kind enough to let me meet his dad. We were in kindergarten that time and his dad was kind as well. They both had the same sad smile on their faces which was the first thing I noticed from Gio when we became friends.

       I shook the thoughts away and went back to reality. Ea sat beside me and we stared out the window.

       "So what time do you plan on going home?"

           "Probably before 6."

We were at the rooftop now, where we usually stay. The sun was nearly up and we just sat there looking down at the traffic despite the time.

"If I ever had a car, I wouldn't buy a new one. I'd buy an old pickup truck then restore it myself."

Like Bella in Twilight? I thought to myself as I recalled Bella's first car which was a red chevy.

"I know tons of guys who could sell me car parts at a good price and eventually my truck would be in good condition."

She talked a lot. I thought a lot.

Whenever she talked, it almost felt like she just spoke whatever came to mind without another thought about it. She spoke how she wanted to ad say what she meant.
Me on the other hand think a lot before I say something. Sometimes think about saying one thing and end up not saying it at all.

"Shit, I talk a lot. I'm talkative aren't I?"

I shook my head, You are, but I don't mind. I enjoy your stories.

Like I said earlier, I wanted to say things but fail to say it.

           While we were here, it made me think of the song Disconnected.

You are my getaway
You are my favorite place
We get so disconnected.

I smiled at the thought of the lyrics being accurate to how I would describe Ea.

I had a system when it comes to friends actually. One, I had friends for when I'm sad. They help me out. Other than that nothing. Two, I had friends for good times and laughs. Three, I had friends for just keeping me company when I need company. Like to sit with at lunch. Four, I had friends for when I need something for school or to text someone when I didn't have load.

The problem was, Ea was all of them. And to be really honest, I never had a friend who's all around so that's a first for me. It was strange at the beginning but I learned to et used to it somehow.

          The sun was almost up and we both probably wanted to smoke. So we decided to check the seventh. Plus we wanted to see the sunset at a better view.

           The lady guard who was at the door let us pass and even though we know smoking is not allowed we still went there and smoked a few.

         Sometimes, whenever she and I smoke and she buys the pack I feel like I depend on her too much. Or I like I owe her so many cigarettes. Thanks to her, I enjoyed smoking again. Smoking for me was just the little me playing around with mommy's stuff. But thanks to her, I liked smoking. It added an all new meaning to it. Truth is, I did smoke a lot when I was like 12. It started out as a curious thought since my mom and all my uncles smoke. My sister never loved the smell of smoke and she said it suffocates her, which is why whenever she passed by someone smoking she had to hold her breath cause she really did hate the smell.

       Me on the other hand, for some odd reason, have grown to like the smell of smoke. One of the reasons why I loved playing with matches and lighters when I was younger. Like in the past chapter, I enjoyed how spontaneous it's dance was.

The cigarette burned out and I flicked it away down the busy streets. If you had to compile all the cigarettes I've smoked ever since I started again, it would probably be more than average cause ever since, I started to crave it day and night just like back then. I was desperate, I even stole money for those cancer sticks. And now, I don't know when i'll stop. I can be pretty reckless and stupid. Stupid most of the time.

The sun was up and that was the cue that she had to go. I didn't want her to leave, I wanted her to stay all day or like sleep over but her mom might find out and my family hates her.

Sometimes, I wonder why my own flesh an blood hate her. Well it's not new, they hated all my friends. They keep telling me "when you make friends make sure they're on top" and that's basically the only requirement for a friend as said by my mother.she wanted something else for me and it was something I didn't want. I had friends back in Trinity and they weren't exactly on top, nor smart, and my mom banned me from ever going out with them cause I might get stupid.

But I guess the fact that I want friends cause they are "friend-worthy" isn't allowed as a requirement in looking for a friend, would obviously tell us how fucked my mother is. In fact, she did it to my sister ( but all my sister's friends either works at a strip club or got pregnant or both )

I went down with her and she hugged me. I tried to not act fazed or like I'm desperate for her to stay. I had to hide it somehow. I had to be strong for once and accept the fact that she's leaving.

I'm leaving.

I've given a lot of thought to is and yeah, I would miss her a lot when I get to the farm. I'd miss her no doubt.

And that's what scares me. I would miss her. I would remember every little thing about her and it remain untold. I would hear her voice in places she wouldn't be in. I would look for her in people and in places.

I will miss her, and in just about a split second I part from the hug and waved goodbye.

Don't go you bitch.

Just don't.