Animi Motus

2: Mirandum(pov #2)

"Vanessa! Get down here this instant!" My mother's voice echoes through the hall and into my pale green room. I jump at the sound, feeling my heart skip, then relax. It's not that I'm scared, I've just always been easy to startle. And relatively gullible, oh and sometimes I can't help spewing out random facts. But I'm rambling. I groan at the sound of my mom's voice, hoping she'll hear and leave me alone.

"Vanessa Donatello!" my mother yells. No such luck. I jog out of my room and slide down the railing of the stairs as I have done so many times before. My 18 year old brother Peter already sits at the table. Technically, Peter is a year older than me, although you'd never guess it; he acts like a five year old. But I love Peter and his immaturity, because he's all I have left, I don't count my mother. Ok, I guess that was a little harsh. I do love her, she's just never really been there for me, and we've grown apart. My mother and I were never close to begin with, but since my dad left us, things have only gotten worse. On cue, Mom appears, salad bowl in hand, and fixes me with a glare. In return, I flash her a sarcastic smile and sit down. For dinner we have salad, pork chops, and green beans. I eat as fast as I can, keeping food in my mouth at all times to avoid having to talk. It's useless.

"How was school Vanessa?" my mother inquires.

"Fine," I say, in a monotone voice. I can tell she is unsatisfied with my response but she doesn't pursue the matter. "And for the hundredth time, it's Nessa." A lack of conversation is pretty typical between my mother and I. When the silence between us becomes too uncomfortable, I tend to spit out a random fact to break the tension. I love facts. You could say I collect them sort of. Unfortunately I can't really control when they pop out. After dinner, I go for a run. Running has always been an outlet of mine ever since my father disappeared on my eleventh birthday. Bummer, right? My father was a runner, and I guess I run to hold onto him. Now, after years of training, I run a 4 minute mile and have broken almost all the high school records. Always on my own though. I've never ran track for school. Peter says it's a waste. I guess I just can't bring myself to try out, and I couldn't tell you why if I wanted to. I throw on a hoodie, and head out for my typical evening run. About a half hour in, a black, rusted toyota pulls up beside me.

"Think fast!" Peter yells, and launches a baseball at me. He has them lying around everywhere. I'm too startled to think anything. "Nice catch," Peter says sarcastically. He looks off into the distance and with a reminiscant look says, "Not as nice as mine are, though," then he gives me a smile and laughs out loud. Needless to say, Peter's a baseball star. A couple of seconds, and he's got me laughing too. He's is the only one who can make me laugh these days, who truly makes me happy.

Peter gives me a ride home, and we laugh and joke with each other all the way back. As we walk in the door our laughing stops. my mother is standing in the living room looking frazzled as she stares at the small TV. I trot over, Peter right behind me, and peek over her shoulder. A news report is on, about a rural village in Grenada. Everyone in the village had mysteriously dropped dead about a week ago, with strange black wounds on their necks that autopsies couldn't explain. The police have no idea what killed them. The story bums me out, but after a minute or two I lose interest, yawn, and head upstairs. That's the thing about the things you hear on the news, it's sad and you feel bad because you're only human. But it doesn't affect you, so you don't really care. Upstairs in my room, I flip open a magazine carelessly. Then, out of nowhere, I find myself feeling sort of empty. Not sad, and not angry. Just alone. I feel this way a lot when I think about my dad. I was so surprised when he left, and not the good kind of surprise you want on your birthday. I was stunned. I felt abandoned. I sit on my bed awake and think. At who knows what time, Peter comes in.

"Nessa?" his low voice pierces the silence. I jump, startled again. Peter sits down on my bed, putting an arm around me. "I miss dad too," he says after a moment. We sit in silence for a long time. Then he flicks a light on and looks at me. I see an unexpected smile creep across his face. "Nessa I can't take you seriously with your hair like that," he laughs.