Wondery

Winter: Family

The lights of Times Square fell behind me as I neared Central Park. My mom and I lived in this small apartment in the Upper-East side. Though small in size, it had been completely updated. The kitchen was a pristine white. The counter top, glass dining table, white paint, hanging glass fixtures, and modern decoration all shone with an almost blinding glow whenever the light touched it. That's the thing with New York apartments; the buildings themselves are almost a century old, but the interior is never old than five or ten years.

Some parts of the house were older than others, but they all were still relatively new. The living room had been updated and refurnished, while the two bedrooms, and at least one bathroom, hadn't been updated in at least ten years.

I lived with my mom, dad, and my dog, Coco. Coco was a rescue that my dad had found on the side of the road. I was only about five or six at the time, and dad wasn't....who he is now. Coco was a chocolate lab with big brown eyes that would give off a bronze sparkle when the sun would hit at the right angle. He had a sunny personality that could brighten anyone's day. His bark sometimes sounded like he was trying to communicate with you, like he was almost saying I understand.

My mom was always home, no matter what her work demanded nor the weather. She always tried to protect me. She, even though most times she had no idea what she was doing, always had good intentions. One problem, however, was her lack of awareness. She would sometimes zone out a lot or go off on a tangent that always ended up with her talking about a completely unrelated story from high school. My mom was probably the most carefree person in the world....which is why I love her so much. Unlike my dad. He's....just....dad.

When I entered the apartment building, the doorman, Austin, greeted me with a warm smile and a tip of his hat. Austin was always so nice to my family. He brought food to our apartment, drove me places, and kept an eye on me all the time to be sure I was safe.

I approached the all too familiar white, oak door with the numbers 760 painted on to it. I took the house key out from its hiding place not-so-cleverly-hidden inside a nearby flower pot. I inserted the key and turned the lock. I walked inside and took off my shoes. I placed them with the others on our "shoe mat" as my mom liked to call it. I tossed my backpack down on the floor and sauntered into the living room. I found the nearest couch and performed my best trust fall ever as I fell into its sweet, glorious cushions.

I relaxed my shoulders and took a deep breath as I relished in my few moments of silence. Being alone always helped me think, but sometimes my brain thinks about all the wrong things. This time, I couldn't stop thinking about that guy at the store. That guy, Adrian, was....interesting to say the least. I had only talked to him for roughly forty-nine seconds, yet it felt like I had already met him a thousand times before. The one thing that my mind would not let go of was his eyes. His ocean blue eyes...those piercing blue eye-

"Elise? Are you home?" It was my mom. I snapped up from the couch and found her in the middle of her taking off her shoes. 

"Hey, mom! How was work?" My mom worked as a barista at a local coffee shop. It was the only job that my not wanted to do, but could do as well. It didn't pay much, but it was enough for us to get by and have a little extra.

"Oh, it was fine."

"Did the boss stop by?" I asked. My mom's boss was a rude man who had a fuse shorter than a baby's first hair. He was almost worse than dad. Almost....

"Thankfully, no," she replied, "Did you get the things from the store?"

I nodded and pointed to the bags on the ground. I hoped that my mom would just assume that I brought money with me on that walk and didn't get it donated to me. Then, I'd have to explain everything to her; I would have to think about him again. 

"Thank you!" mom replied in a song-like voice.

"No problem."

"Your father should be home soon, so you might want to go to your room."

My mom and I were all to familiar with a routine we liked to call "Operation T.G". The T.G. stands for my dad's name, Trevor Goodman. The plan would always start with me in my room and mom in the kitchen. If dad was not in a good mood, then my mom would give the signal for me to stay out if the way and that she would deal with him. If dad was in a good mood, I would eventually walk out if no one had given a signal. If dad was mad, mom would try to distract him or calm him down, and I would come out when he either left of cooled down. If he came in my room....we didn't have a plan for that, because it hasn't ever happened. Yet. 

I heard pots and pans clink together in the kitchen. I knew that mom was making diner. And, from the faint smell of fresh apples wafting through the house, I could also assume that she was making her famous apple pie.

I let my mind wander as the smell of the sweet fruit filled my nose. I imagined I was in an apple field. And not just in any old field, it was my grandmother's apple orchard in New Jersey. I was wearing a long white dress that dragged across the dirt as I walked. It almost resembled a wedding dress. It had small sequins sewn in various places on the skirt of the dress, and the top was ruffled to almost resemble the pattern of roses.

As I was picking apples, I felt a stranger swoop me off my feet. He twirled me around and nuzzled my forehead. Then, I saw them again. Adrian's ocean blue eyes filled my vision, and his hair shimmered a light hazel color. The dress I was wearing still touched the ground even with Adrian holding me. Suddenly, we moved closer to each other. I could feel my mind starting to gag at this. Come on this is too cliche. Stop it. Please, just let me enjoy this once. 

My mind finally shut up and I continued to stare into Adrian's eyes. As we moved closer, his eyes closed and his lips parted a bit. I could tell that he wanted to kiss me, and I did too. I was almost there...so close. But, like all things in the world, it had to end.

Right before our lips met, I heard a large slam at the door. It was dad, I could tell. He was not in a good mood, and I didn't need a signal to tell me that.