Big Tree Village

Chapter 13

Chapter 13

            It was a humid morning; I could feel the steam in the air. A huge difference from the arctic white house, where it was freezing. After I had went off on Bryan I had grabbed my clothes and left; not even stopping when Demona yelled after me. She was having a hangover, a big one. But that didn’t stop her from drinking and smoking some more this morning. I could taste sweat above my lip as I walked, my destination still a mystery. My feet ached as I walked down the cracked pavement, I passed JUMP which was closed and the hopper was asleep outside, sunglasses over his eyes. I felt guilty, not only was Oinkers alone but my parents were probably worried sick. Not to mention the punishment I’ll have for all this. There was a small café, near JUMP. It was called Morning Sunshine. I went inside, feeling the need for some more coffee. It smelled like mocha inside, plus a hint of raspberry. There was a line and plenty of people sitting in booths, sipping their coffee. Totally unaware of the fact that I had just walked in, dirty clothes in hand, four small dollars in my pocket. A familiar voice rang in my ears.

            “Yes, yeah it has been going well. How about your work?” Chance.  My heart fluttered and the wall I had put up, blocking off all emotion, came tumbling down. My eyes scanned the café. As if it couldn’t get worse I found him, and her. They were sitting in the corner, Sarah’s face all done up. She had on eyeliner, mascara, blush, foundation, eye shadow, and even was wearing a teeth whitener. (I could tell.) While I was wearing sweats and absolutely no makeup at all. And here was Chance, the boy I love. Imbetween us, leaning over the table, smiling at her as she explained about her modeling job. Everything I worked so hard to do, to protect myself from feeling this way vanished as tears welt up in my eyes and I left; four dollars still in my pocket.

            Morning Sunshine was a wakeup call. Reminding me that I was still alone, heartbroken, and jealous as ever. Morning Sunshine was something you say to your loved one, when you wake up next to each other. The sun shining in, but that other person the only light in your world. But it wasn’t reality. The café was. Partying doesn’t make you feel better, yeah it might distract you from everything for a day but the damage is done.

Morning Sunshine.

So here I am, walking down a street crying my eyes out. And who comes to my rescue?

            Artie.

            “Zoey,” he calls out of his light blue car, “what are you doing?” I picked up my pace, not wanting him to see me like this. No wall, just me, all exposed. But I couldn’t lose him. He pulls over, gets out, comes to my side and hugs me. I began sobbing harder on to his shoulder. He was quiet, almost like me when Demona or Paige came in with big news. You had to wait out the storm, and he knew that.  

I took a gulp of my pina colada slurpee. It smelled like coca-cola in Arties light blue prius. Plus there was a lone cigarette floating around inside a water bottle filled with an unknown yellow substance. Repulsive. He had T-shirts in the back, folded and they smelled like lavender detergent. He stopped at a big brick townhouse where he claimed there was some sort of speakeasy inside that sold the best breakfast omelets in the world. I looked around at the other townhouses and could feel my sniffles creeping up after me. 10 minutes or so after you cry you have these sniffles where you can’t seem to breathe right. It sucks. I sniffled and wiped my nose with the tissue Artie found stuffed in the glove box. After about half ‘n hour he emerged carrying a plastic bag labeled ARTIE in sloppy handwriting. He was smiling and the sun was glistening off his gray aviators, his orange hair bouncing as he skipped over the curb. I couldn’t tell if he was looking at me or not, but I smiled back. “Zoey,” he sighed joining me inside the car. He set the bag on the T-shirts and I breathed in the smell of warm cheese, chicken and tomatoes. My stomach grumbled loudly. “I knew you had to be hungry,” he laughed, “here I know a great place to eat the omelets.”

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            “Did you love her?” I asked Artie as I bit in to my omelet. We were at a park, sitting across from each other at a wooden picnic table. He had been talking about his girlfriend who died; Hayley.  He looked up at the sky and sighed deeply.

            “If a burning passion for someone overtakes your whole life and you only feel happy when you’re with that person is love, then yes. I loved Hayley. I loved her very much.” His voice choked as he said her name, his eyes were still hiding behind the glasses but I bet they were filled with tears.

            “I’m sorry for asking, I know it’s hard.” I said sipping my empty slurpee; just to have something to do.  

            “Hard,” he said smiling, “no hard is describing a final exam for trigonometry, or running 20 miles straight. Losing someone you love and knowing that they’re gone forever is,” he paused; looking for the right word, “extremely challenging, heartbreaking. It’s as if someone took out your heart and ripped out your loved one, and put it back in your body, left with a giant black hole. The pain is unimaginable, but it’s difficult to explain.” He finished up his omelet and gulped down the rest of his Coca-Cola slurpee. Artie really opened my eyes, to what love is. He loved Hayley and she was ripped from his heart, and he had to keep living. He doesn’t party every day to take away the pain. He drinks his slurpees and puts a smile on his face.

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            Just when I felt that pang of guilt for Oinkers again I watched as my father’s black truck pulled in to the parking lot. Uh-oh. This was it. I had to either run, or go home and face my punishment. Artie noticed me watching the truck. It had stopped, still rumbling. “Do you know that guy?” Artie asked as my father hopped out, beer in hand. He was waving at me, wildly. I shielded my face.

            “Yeah,” I sighed, “that’s my dad.”

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Thu, thank you so much for reading my stories! It means a lot :) <3