𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄, 𝐬𝐭𝟐

TWENTY-TWO. bouquet

NATALIE D'ANGELO

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within the next 6 or so days christie and i regain the strength back in our legs. we were walking around pretty well and every so often christie would jump around and immediately regret it when her leg would give out and she would fall to the floor.

i thought it was funny, she did not.

"daddio!" i yell as i scale down the stairs to the dining room. he sits there with a cup of coffee and the newspaper every single morning, eating his breakfast and talking to everyone and everything around him.

"is that my natty batty!" he yells the nickname he has called me every day since kindergarten.

the man gets up from his chair and hugs me tightly. i saw him every day but to make me feel special he always made it a big deal when i got to walking more than 20 seconds.

and it was a huge deal when christie and i walked down the stairs together for the first time. you would've thought there was the biggest miracle of our lifetime.

christie and i made a pact to go back to school today even though neither of us really wanted to face the many people of our schools. they're bitches. we came to terms with that when we discussed going back the previous night.

a white turtleneck encases the top half of my body, a pink short-sleeved shirt is over it, a pair of larger ripped jeans are fastened around my hips. i grab my white sneakers from the front closet and fasten them onto my feet.

christie walks down the stairs as i finish the loops in my shoes. she has on a red tank top tied in a knot so it's cropped up to her mid stomach, a pair of dark colored jeans cover her long legs and a white cardigan is tossed over her slender shoulders.

she wears combat boots since they give her more support. that's what she told me at least. it was probably a lie just so she could wear her combat boots every day but i let her believe that i didn't know.

"christie" my dad yells when he sees his eldest daughter. "fatherrrrr" she says before walking over and grabbing an eggo from my mothers growing stack.

"you guys ready to go?" he asks both of us. we nod and he salutes us, walking over to grab the keys to his car.

we don't know how christie would drive nor did we really want her driving. she could swerve off and kill the both of us for all we knew so we all believed it was the absolute best for christie's and for my safety to not drive to school.

we ride to school, my dad singing to the music on the radio as loud and as obnoxiously as he can. his voice squeaks and breaks and cracks in a million ways.