Living With the Player

Erika’s Pov

            So there I was standing at my own father’s funeral. I was too shocked cry. My father who has been there my entire life was now gone. The only family I had left, and the only person who I love. A car had taken his life not even a full week ago, and now I’m left all on my own.

            Well, before I jump into my story about my hectic, embarrassing life, I should probably let you know a little bit about my life. I was a normal 16 year old going on my junior year in high school. I have a lot of friends, but I’m no where near popular, and I like it that way. I’m no where near a girly girl. I wear make up and skinny jeans, but that’s about as girly as it gets. The only thing that I actually like about my appearance is my electric green eyes. Other than that, I look like any other red headed freak with tons of freckles.

            My father has been my only parental figure since I was very young. Not because my mother abandoned me, because she didn’t. She died the day after I was born, so it wasn’t her fault. My mother was the love of my dad’s life, he never even looked at another woman, for he felt as if it would be cheating on good old mom.

            Even though my dad didn’t have a woman by his side he still supported me as if he did. Hell, he even attempted to give me “The talk” and tried to make me feel better about periods and stuff. After two attempts at this he gave up trying. Which definitely was a good thing seeing as it was just plain awkward for both of us.

            Now I was standing in the hot sun watching my father’s casket lowered into his grave. I almost felt guilty for not shedding a tear, but then I realized that my dad wouldn’t want me to cry for him. He would want me to remember him by all the good times we’ve had.

            I stepped forward to place my fist full of dirt in his grave and knelt down. “I love you daddy” I said stepping away from grave wiping away a tear that had escaped from the corner of my eye. I walked over to Mason as he pulled me into a hug.

            Mason and I have been best friends for as long as I can remember. He has always been there for me, and I love him as if he were my own brother. I clung to him with all I had and cried into his shirt. He rubbed my back and kissed my head trying to sooth me.

            He carried me to his truck after the funeral and put me in the cab. Because I am only 16, I had to live in an adoption agency.  I would still be attending the same school, and I would still be in the same town, I just couldn’t live in the house I’ve grown up in by my self. As he drove the short distance from the cemetery to my house I was beginning to get nervous. I had never moved, I always lived in the same house with my dad, and it would be extremely hard for me to pack up and move. I had to go through everything of my dad’s and decide what I wanted to keep and what I could give away to charity.

            “Want me to stay with you tonight and help you pack up?” Mason asked already knowing the answer.

            “Please, it will be the last time we spend time together in this house.” I said starting to tear up again thinking about all the memories that Mason, my dad, and I had shared over the years.

            “Of course.” He said as I opened the door of the truck. I jumped down and started hulling out boxes from the garage.

            I was going to an adoption agency for abandoned children. I couldn’t complain, I got to keep all of my belongings, and I got my own room in which I would stay until a family decided they wanted to take me home, or I turned 18, which ever came first.

            I started packing my room before even looking at anything of my fathers. It only took me about a hour to pack everything of mine. I started going through everything of my dad’s.

            After about ten hours and thousands of tears, the house was all packed up, and I had the few belongings of my dad’s that I planned on keeping stored away in its own box.. I decided to keep all of the pictures of my family. I kept notes between my mother and father from their high school years. I kept a few of my dad’s old sweaters and gave the rest of his clothes to charity.

            All of the furniture and extra stuff that I didn’t need to take with me went to a storage unit my dad bought but never used. In all, it took Mason and I three days to pack up my entire house and either move me into the agency, give to charity, or put stuff in the storage unit.

            Walking away from the house felt like I was leaving a piece of me behind. I grew up in this house and all of my memories were some how incorporated with the house its self. From birthday parties to Dad burning dinner, or me doing homework on the counter in the kitchen to playing out side all summer. I shut the door behind me letting another tear fall. I climbed into Mason’s truck and we tore off to the adoption agency to begin my new life.