elliot edwards and the pursuit of finding oneself

one (edited)

lower case intended.

"happy birthday elliot!" i hear, snapping out of whatever dream i was in. "aunt ellen, it's my birthday. the least you could do is let me sleep in." i complain, pulling a pillow over my face with a grunt. aunt ellen isn't actually my aunt, she's my adoptive guardian, but she decided she wanted to be honest about that from the start. thus, 'aunt ellen' she became.

"it's important. i promise. you're gonna wanna see this." she says seriously, sitting on my bed beside me. i lift the pillow off of my eyes and glace over at her, holding a worn envelope with my name, elliot, written across the front. "is that-" i couldn't find the words, but she awkwardly nodded. "it came this morning with no return address. i promise i didn't read it, but it's from your mom."

i threw the pillow out of my hand and across the room, knocking over a pile of my filled out journals from over the years, but i couldn't care less. i know nothing about my birth parents. not even their names. i stare down at the envelope as if i was waiting for it to come alive and read itself to me. "i'll leave you to it." said aunt ellen, and then she was gone.

after a few more seconds of staring at the hadwriting on the front of the paper i raced out of bed, grabbing the first clothes that came into view (a big black and white striped shirt, worn out blue jeans, the dirtiest pair of white sneakers imagineable, and a navy blue windbreaker with two red and white stripes on each arm), before grabbing the envelope and rushing out of my bedroom.

i brushed my teeth so fast that my gums bled around the edge of my right front tooth and i washed my face with the coldest water that the faucet would supply, not even bothering to do anything with the curly mop of hair on my head besides ruffling it up on the way out of the bathroom.

"what about your birthday breakfast!" aunt ellen yells as i slip on my coat. i look back into the tiny kitchen to see chocolate chip pancakes with strawberry syrup all over them (also coating the hashbrowns and eggs on the side, my guilty pleasure). "fuck" i let out in a quiet grumble, putting the letter into my coat pocket and rushing over to the table.

based on the rate i was shoving the contents on my plate down my throat, it was easy to assume that i'd be getting a stomach ache in the near future, but i didn't care. the goal was to get out of our stuffy new york apartment and into the air where i could read the letter my mom had written me in peace as soon as possible.

after clearing my plate, i flew out of my chair and over to the sink, placing my dishes in it while aunt ellen did the dishes beside me. "thank you for the breakfast. love you." i say (clearly rushing) with my mouth full before giving a sticky kiss on the cheek away and rushing back towards the door. "don't stay out all night!" she tells me. "would't dream of it!" i yell back, grabbing my keys and rushing out the door.

today, january fifteenth (my seventeenth birthday), was a cold one. my nose turned pink as soon as i stood on the ledge of our apartment building (us being on the third, top story), and rushing down the creaky stone stairs to the first level and using my keys to unlock the apartment on the far left side. "megan!" i call out. "bathroom!" she, my best friend of all seventeen years of my life responds.

i rush into her bedroom, knocking into her mom in the hallway. "oh! happy birthday el!" she exclaims. "good morning ms. stevens." i reply quickly before moving past her. abbigail stevens was a single mom who gave birth at the age i turned today, and somehow managed to pull it off, raising meg in the apartment below mine.

megans room was the lightest shade of pink i could come up with, and i sat on her white sheets with my legs folded, glancing between the tinyflowers that covered her bedding, and her. she was stood in the bathroom that hosted the right corner of her room, leaning over the white counter that was looking extra clean in the flourecent lighting, unbraiding her dirty blonde hair and letting it fall ono her shoulders.

"happy birthday freckles" she says to my reflection in her bathroom mirror. "morning megster" i reply, watching her put on the same grape scented clear lipgloss she's been using since the sixth grade. I notice a tear in her black tights (that she was currently wearing under a pair of black sailor shorts) as she walks out of the bathroom and picks up a long sleeved white shirt with 'usa' written boldy across the chest, pulling it over her black camisol.

"is your mom okay with us ditching today?" I ask her as she grabs the same pair of sneakers i'm wearing, stumbling as she attempts to tie the laces while standing. "she's given up. it's a friday. plus we never miss school. missing our birthdays is nothing." she explains, pulling her coat over her shoulders. "i can't believe you're wearing shorts in this weather megan." her mom says while passing by her bedroom door.

"don't think i haven't noticed you stole my shirt." i say, gesturing to her torso. "well, considering i'm wearing it it's not like i was trying to hide it." she admits, pulling me out into her kitchen and biting a huge chunk into a green apple. "i got birthday pancakes. i win." "quiet freckles. nobody asked." she teases, taking a sip of the coffee i had just poured into to-go cups for us.

"bye mom!" "bye ms. stevens!" we yell as we run out the front door, hand in hand. we rushed down the steps and passed our lame excuse for a lobby on the way out of the apartment building's main entrance. "so..." i start, shoving my second earbud into her ear and pressing play on the walkman. "i got a letter from my mom."