I step in the elevator and pressed the button to get to the eleventh floor of my apartment building. The same apartment I've lived in since I was four. I listen to the slow jazz song that always plays in the elevator. Would it kill them to change the music in here every once in a while?
The doors open and I walk down the hall to apartment 7B. As I pull out my key, I here something crash to the ground on the other side of the door. I hurriedly pull the door open and step inside. The first thing I see is a white cloud engulfing our kitchen. From it, my mom pops up, covered in flour.
I laugh slightly before going to help Mom clean up.
Want some assistance?" I ask, already pulling the broom out from behind the refrigerator.
"I don't even know how this happened!" She exclaims. "I was just making dinner and–and now it's on the floor!" She stuttered, and I laugh and go to grab a dustpan from the closet.
"You're such a klutz." I tease her. She glares at me but then laughs.
"I don't think it was me being a klutz so much as me having a massive head ache." She complains, wiping down the counter tops that make our kitchen look like Christmas came early this year.
lIt's getting kind of cool outside. You probably just have a cold." I suggested, giving her my expert diagnoses.
"Probably." She pauses and look as me. "Wait a second mister. You still have six hours of school left." She scolds looking at the clock above the microwave. "What are you doing home so early?" Dang it. I think to myself. I almost got away with it.
lWould you believe me if I told you that my bus was just really fast today?" I question.
She shakes her head and responds, "No. I would not Gunner."
"It was worth a shot." I shrug. "Okay, well...I kind of got into a fight with this jack ass in my biology class." I confess.
"And what was this fight concerning?" She questions me, raising an eyebrow.
"He was being the little pervert he is and checking out this girl that just moved here and judging her and stuff so I said, 'Hey' and he said 'what do you want?' and I said 'I want you to stop being an asshole and leave her alone.' And he said 'why so you can have her?' and I said 'no so that she doesn't have to be treated like shit on her first day here' and he threw a punch and the next you know we're fighting." I explain, as casually as I can.
She ponders this for a moment and then asks, "Did you win?"
"Yeah Mom. I won." I laugh. She's a huge feminist and has been raising me to stand up to shit heads like Conor O'Neil since the first grade.
"Good." She nods, going back to her cleaning. After a while the kitchen is clean—or as clean as it's going to get—and I go watch old cartoons on the couch while Mom finishes making dinner.
I've just gotten to the part where Wile E. Coyote gets blown up (for the millionth time) when Mom calls me to dinner. Evidently, she had given up on making the Lasagna and just ordered Chinese food. We sit and have a quiet dinner while we enjoy Loony Tunes and Chicken Lo Mein. After we've finished, Mom gets up and stretches.
"I'm going to hit the sack Gunner. I'll see you in the morning." She announces, walking to her room.
"Bye." I respond, still watching T.V.. Little did I know, 'See you in the morning' was the biggest lie I had ever been told. Well, the second biggest lie.
•••
I wake up to the natural light streaming through the windows. I had fallen asleep on the couch. I check my phone and the time reads 10:07a.m. on Saturday morning. The apartment feels strange...empty. I get a bad feeling in my gut as I turn of the T.V. and get up to pour myself some cereal.
After a moment I realize that Mom hasn't woken up yet. That's really weird. I think. Mom usually wakes up inhumanly early on the weekends. I decide to go wake her up, knowing she'd be mad at me for letting her sleep in.
I open the door to her room and my heart stops. She's lying on the ground, not moving or breathing. I crouch down next to her And gently shake her arm.
"M–Mom?" I say quietly. Nothing. I shake her arm again, this time with more force. "Mom. Mom wake up! Wake up! Come on this can't be happening." I plead, tears starting to fall.
I keep doing this, over and over again. Shaking and yelling, shaking and yelling, shaking and yelling. Nothing is making sense. So many thoughts are running though my head that I can't comprehend anything.
Finally I gather enough sense to pick up the phone and dial nine-one-one.
"Nine-one-one what's your emergency?" A voice asks.
"I need an ambulance. My name is Gunner Lynston, I live in Chicago Heights, apartment 7B. That's on Emery Way." I croak into the phone.
"We'll be there in seven minutes." They respond, then hang up. Seven minutes seems like an hour. What am I supposed to do until then? I've never been in a situation like this before. So I wait. I sit by her lifeless body, and wait.
"In exactly seven minutes later, I hear a pounding on my door. I go to open it and about five paramedics walk in, followed by a rather short social worker wearing a tight, dark blue pant suit. She takes a clipboard out of her purse and follows the paramedics. I walk into the room after her, and watch the team run a bunch of tests or whatever on her.
After about twenty minutes, they cover her body with a black sheet and gently carry her out the door. One of the paramedics stays to say something to the social worker, then leaves.
The social worker turns to me and introduces herself. "Hello Gunner, I'm Patricia Morgan. I'd like to speak with you about your mother." I nod slightly and look at my feet and look back up, trying to make eye contact; which is hard considering the fact that I'm about a foot taller then her.
"As I'm sure you already know, your mom has passed away." She informs me in a gentle voice, as if I'm a small puppy that she's trying not to scare. "She had a brain aneurysm last night, while you were sleeping." How could I be so stupid, not to realize that my own mother was dying while I was asleep. "Now I know this must be a very hard time for you, but we need to talk about your living arrangements. Where is your father?" She questions.
"I was told that he died right after I was born." I inform her, my voice hoarse and flat.
"Do you have any other relatives that you know of?" I shake my head no. "I'll have to do some research. But Gunner, if you know anything, you have to tell us. My job is to keep you out of a foster home." She says softly. All I can do is nod. But I had told her the truth, or at least, what I thought was the truth.
"I'm going to go so that I can research your family. I'll be back in about an hour and a half. I want you to stay here. Eat something. I'll see you later." She advises me, and with that, she leaves.
I sit around for a while, doing nothing. Feeling nothing. I feel as empty as the apartment. Finally I fall into a light, disturbed sleep. But still, it's sleep. I slumber until the knocking on the door is back, and prepare for another interview.
YOU ARE READING
Finding Home
Teen Fiction"When life tries to take things from you, dig your heels in the ground and hold on as hard as hell." Gunner Lynston is a perfectly happy teenager. He lives in Chicago with his loving mother, his life is in the city. He's at the best school he can be...
