Introduction

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  • Dedicated to Emma
                                    

Introduction

The dish hit the linoleum floor with a clatter.  I began to cry harder.  He threw another, my grandmother’s favorite butter dish.  It barely missed my mother’s head.  He screamed, “Shit, Aimee who the hell do you think you are!” My mother said nothing.  He threw a vase at the door and it smashed into a million pieces.  So did my heart.  That was the day my father left us.

It was October 1927 and I was nine.  My mother Aimee, my younger brother Carlson and I were living in Virginia Beach, Virginia, our now home of four years.  My father Stanly was in the air corps  for eleven years but luckily didn’t get transferred very often.  Many nights he came home drunk.  He and my mother would fight while Carlson and I hid upstairs.  We could hear yelling and things smashing up against the wall.  But this day in particular was the worst.  Carlson and I were eating my mother’s famous grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch.  My mother was sitting across the table leafing through a copy of Life Magazine, when he walked in.

We were interrupted by a loud clamor followed by the overwhelming smell of whiskey.  The next thing I knew, plates, pans, and bottles were being thrown all over the room.  My dad was yelling threats at my mother and my mother’s face was covered in tears though she said nothing in response except, “Please Stan.”  Carlson and I ducked under the table and a piece of my mother’s fine china brushed past my cheek.  It stung, like a bad carpet burn.  The yelling continued for several minutes before the door slammed and my dad was gone.  Carlson ran upstairs to his bedroom, my mother began to pick up the shards of glass all over the floor, and I ran out the door to my bike.

It was chilly out but, I forgot to grab my sweater.  At first the thought of losing my dad seemed horrifying but the whole thing hadn’t really sunk in yet.  My cheek still burned but the cool mid day breeze felt soothing.  I reached up to touch it and a drop of blood fell onto my sleeve.  I wiped it off and continued to peddle toward the direction I thought my dad might have gone.

I pedaled past house after house until I made it to the park.  By then I realized I would not be able to catch up with my dad.  Reality had kicked in.  I placed my bike by a nearby tree and sat down on the nearest park bench.  Tears began to fill my eyes and I couldn’t see.  I buried my face in my hands.  Why did my dad have to leave the way he did?  Why couldn’t I have a normal loving family?  I began to cry so hard I was shaking.  I was so absorbed in the thought of my father leaving us that I did not hear the shout of warning.  Suddenly, out of nowhere a large red kickball smacked me in the face and I fell off of the bench.  Instead of getting up, I just laid there; I felt so defeated.  When I finally mustered up the strength to raise my head I saw two boys standing over me.  This was also the day I met Elliot McIntyre.

A/N:: Hello!  If you are reading this, I would like to thank you so much!! :) This is just the inroduction so if you are interested in reading more, please let me know!!  Also, I apologize for the language.  I don't usually swear, but I want this to seem as realistic as possible.Thanks :)

-Katie

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