The Inevitable

Part One: The Beginning

 

Note to the reader

You are about to read a series of memories from both character’s perspective that will act as the beginning of your story. They may not match up completely to one another, but they lead you to the same place: reality.

 Girl:

The radio churned on and I swiped the peanut butter to the beat of the music. My hips sashayed in time with the rhythm and my hair effortlessly swung across my back.

“Pop!” I hollered. “I’m going to be late!”

“Well you wouldn’t want to be late the first day back to Hell, now would you?” Pop said with a dry sense of humor as he entered the room. I half-smiled like I always did, handed him his coffee, and ushered him out the door.

Just as we reached the car I turned and asked sheepishly, “Do I look alright? I sort of just threw this-”

“You look wonderful, my dear.” He pinched my chin and pecked my forehead. “Come along now, in the car.” I popped the handle and slid onto the hot leather seat of our forever rusting truck. I cringed as I felt the material glue itself to my legs in a way only the summer heat of New Port, Alabama can make it do and instinctively slid my hands under my thighs. Pop clicked on the radio as we pulled out onto the open road and his head bobbed slightly off time with the song. I laughed softly as he tried to sing along.

“Try this.” I popped in a CD that we used to listen to on road trips when I was younger. I crinkled my nose as I saw his eyes light up.

A few minutes down the road, Pop turned the stereo down and glanced over at me.

“You know, you  are going to do great here, honey.These next four years will be the best years of your life.” There Pop goes again with one of his all purpose “perk-up, life is great, don’t get down on yourself speeches”. “High School will change your life.” I half-nodded my head in response and stared out the window, watching the landscapes pass by in a blur as my foot fidgeted to its own dance.

We pulled up to the school and I took in a sharp breath. I turned to my Pop, but he was already looking over at me and he held a slight shimmer in his eyes, “Your mother would be so proud of you. I just wish she were here to see you blossoming into this beautiful young adult that you’re becoming. I know that it has been hard for you to live without a mother, but here I am trying my best. Even if I still know that I’m not always enough.” It was such a typical Pop speech, but tears still flooded the corners of my eyes and just before they spilled over, I leaned over to hug him and said,

“You are always enough.” With one arm still around him, I reached to pull the handle. I pushed the door back and left without another word. I softly closed the door and backed up onto the sidewalk. I stood watching as the truck roared away leaving me feeling vulnerable and alone.

Boy:

"Hey, yo Mom! Where do you want these boxes! They aren’t marked!” I yelled up the stairs to a woman who I would seemingly describe as deaf, though she says to only be forty-three. “Mom!” I set the box down by the banister and climbed the stairs up to the second story. I stepped up to the landing only to find her leaning against an unopened box with a quilt wrapped around her small frame as she inhaled and exhaled lightly. In simpler terms, she had fallen asleep while unpacking. A sigh slipped from my lips and I walked over to where she was resting, picked up the marker and created a masterpiece upon her face. I’m an artist, what can I say?