Please Understand

Chapter 3: Write Hard and Clear About What Hurts

I drove with the windows down, even though the October air was slightly too cold for my taste, and I blared whatever halfway decent music I could find on the radio. My jaw was still clenched, and I wasn't ready to go home, but where else was I supposed to go? It's not like I can pick her up, and take her out to ice cream, or whatever stupid thing she wanted to do that day. I didn't hangout with her as much as I should have, and now I was kicking myself for it. If she was home, then I would take her anywhere. If she wanted to go hiking, then we would, no matter how cold it was. If she wanted to sit in my tree house and do nothing, then we would. But we won't. Because she's not there, and I wasn't nice enough to do it before.

I parked in front of my house, sighed, and rested my head on the steering wheel. Nothing could prepare me for going into her house again and knowing I won't be seeing her big blue eyes showing her smile even though her mouth wouldn't match. She wouldn't run out the front door with me, dragging me by my wrist, and begging me to take her anywhere but there. She wouldn't ask me if I needed help with the English assignment. She wouldn't offer to cook me something, but only if it was at my house. She wouldn't be there.

As Amelia ran laps around my mind with her dark clothes and bright eyes, I found myself shuffling up to her red front door. Her and her mother painted it when they first moved in, and that's the first day I met her. I was outside playing while my mom gardened, and I remembered seeing a very tall, thin woman with her hair tied back with a ribbon, holding a red paint covered brush. She stood back to admire the freshly painted door and her mini-me stood next to her with the same look of concentration as they examined their work.

"I would say it's perfect, Amelia," the woman commented as a big smile covered her face. She glanced down at her daughter with an overwhelming amount of love in her eyes.

"Perfect!" the girl exclaimed as she looked up with a big smile on her face. Her hair was tied up with a bright blue ribbon, making her eyes pop.

Even at that young age, I knew she was something special and I found myself walking across my yard to the bushes that separated our front yards. Amelia's eyes found mine as I peered over the leaves with a smile. Her mother looked back at me, smiled as she took her daughter's little hand, and led her over. "Hello, young man, are you one of our neighbors?" she asked with a warm, friendly, and musical voice, unlike any I had ever heard.

My smile was frozen on my face, but I shyly nodded my head.

"Well, I am Mrs. Jackson, and this is my daughter, Amelia. What is your name?" she asked, her eyes shifted behind me, and then she looked back down.

"Mason Maxwell," I squeaked. At the age of five, and in my quest to be prepared for kindergarten, I always told everyone I met my first and last name, so I could never forget it.

"Hi, Mason!" Amelia greeted in her own singsong version of her mother's voice. She kept smiling at me. "Can I play with Mason?" She looked up with the biggest puppy dog eyes any girl had ever had on their face.

Mrs. Jackson looked up to her own eye level above my head, slightly amused. "I don't mind, but we should first ask his mother," she commented with a big smile.

I glanced over my shoulder as my mom slowly walked towards us, removing her light green gloves from her hands. She smiled back and curtly nodded her head. "I don't mind either. They can play in our backyard, and you can come over for coffee if you would like," she awkwardly offered. Mom isn't as naturally friendly as some, but she attempted to be nice on occasion.

That's when our friendship began, and I wish I hadn't let it fizzle out.

Before I knew it, I was jerked from my pleasant memory as the fading red door was now the only thing I could see. I knocked as hard as I could, knowing perfectly well I might have to walk in, uninvited. Instead of seeing, a tall woman who I'm sure Amelia was destined to look like, I was greeted with the overpowering smell of alcohol and vomit as a husky, man with bloodshot eyes opened the door. "Hey, Danny, I'm just dropping off Amelia's homework, again," I explained with a forced smile. "Can I take it up to her room today?"