Short of History: A Collection of Short Stories

PACKAGE

The unopened package had been sitting on the table for months. I just don't have the heart to open it. It's supposedly from my mother and father before they... I stop myself before throwing up. The only thing that I do have the heart to do is read the letter they left attached to the box. And even then I can't get even a quarter of the way through it. It's just that every time I try I get a feeling in the pit of my stomach like I'm about to throw up. Slowly, tears fall down my face.

"Mom, Dad, I miss you." Sniffling, I look up as the doorbell sounds. "Huh?" I question. "Who could that be?" I get up and walk to the door wiping my eyes. Taking a breath I turn the knob, shocked to see the one person I'd never expect to show up on my doorstep.

"Micheal, w-what are you doing here?" Micheal was my, not-so-surprisingly, high school bully. He always used to make fun of me for no reason. I mean sure I was a little on the heavy side, with big bushy brown hair, and an acne covered face, and big square glasses, but does that give him the right to bully me? No. But alas in the summer of '09, the summer before my senior year, I got up the motivation to finally do something about it. I lost my extra weight, fixed whatever the hell was wrong with my hair, and discovered a little known face cream that has done wonders for my skin. However, there was nothing I could do about the glasses.

I also had the chance to rediscover myself, I found new things to like and love, while still liking and loving the older things, like books... and Harry Potter, sorry, not sorry. Now, not only am I thin in the right places, but my body finally filled out to be sexy and beautiful. My hair looks like I spent hours on it when really I just ran a brush through it. And my skin, well it's amazingly clear, practically spotless if you don't count the freckles the cover my nose and cheeks. The little make up I wear extenuates my forever hazel eyes. The color that always changes with the seasons and whatever I wear. With a subtle smokey eye, a little mascara and lip-gloss, and BOOM nothin' but hazel.

Seeing Micheal now just brings back the memories of when I needed my parents the most. He still hadn't answered yet so I just decided to invited him in. He accepts and walks in. "I, uh, I just found out about your parents. See I was traveling away on business out of the country and didn't hear about them until I came back. I came to see if you were all right." As he finishes, he stands there awkwardly, pulling at his fingers.

"Why?" I asked confused. "You've never cared about me before, so why start now. You bullied me every day up until a senior year, and yet you never showed one ounce of remorse," I pause, taking a breath, then continue. "I never thought I would see you again after high school. Hell, I went to college on the other side of the fucking country."

"I know and I'm sorry. I was a stupid kid who didn't know how to express what he was feeling, for God's sake, I was a scared, pussy ass teenager who fell in love with a beautiful girl. I wanted to say sorry all throughout my senior year, but you always avoided me, never giving me the chance to even try. After graduation, you went away to college and I thought, that was it. But then you came back to work as a teacher in our old high school. I thought I'd come to see you and finally apologize, but you always seemed so busy..." he stopped, letting me process it all.

"Okay, and now?" I reply after a few moments, my arms crossed over my chest.

"Well, as I said, I was out of the country on business, and I'd only just heard about your parents when I got back home." He stopped and smile for a moment, seeming to be reminiscing. "While you were away at college your parents and me, we became quite close, great friends if you will. As our friendship progressed they got to know more about me and I got to know more about them and you. The had become like family to me."

A sad smile fell upon his features, and tears started to prickle my eyes. "Family?" I asked.

"Yes, like family. I'm not sure how they felt about me and I know your father had his reservations, but he warmed up. So when I heard of your mother and father's passing I was devastated. To be honest, I came straight here from the airport."

It took a long while for me to respond, but I did. After I gathered my strength, I spoke, "Well, I'm fine. I'd like it if you'd leave now," I say pointing to the door and looking down "Please?" I was on the verge of tears and I wasn't about to look up. He hadn't moved.

"Olivia, please. I'm truly sorry. I was stupid in high school and no one should ever be treated the way I did you. Tell me what I can do to earn your forgiveness." He looked at me desperately. I sigh and think.

"Why?"

"What?"

I sigh and speak, "Why? Why did you feel the need to bully me in the first place." I genuinely wanted to know. I wanted to know what about me that made him so mean.

"I guess," he laughs. "Now you're gonna think I'm stupid-"

"I already do, but go on," I say, my arms crossed and awaiting his answer.

"Okay," he smiles at the insult and continues. "I didn't know how to express what I was feeling..." I scrunch up my face in confusion. "You were smart, sweet, kind, beautiful, and even funny. You never ever let anyone bring you down, even me. Stupid, stupid me. I couldn't see that what I was feeling was something real and not just stupid teenage boy hormones. Or, I could and I just didn't know how to respond." He chortles at himself. Okay, now I'm even more confused.

He sighs and rubs the back of his neck. "Look, the point is... I like you, I always have. You were always so strong and so independent, and no matter how many times you have been pushed around, you always got back up. Never winning, but never lying defeated. You're so strong, so brave. I never should've done that to you. I'm so sorry," he finishes, finally taking a breath.

I wait a few moments before talking. "Okay," I say. "You can stay, but that doesn't mean I forgive you." I walk over to the package on my kitchen table and put my hands on the taped up top. "You uh...you wanna help me open up this package. It's from mom and dad. I still can't read through the whole letter. It still... it still hurts." By now I'm crying. Micheal rushes to me and wraps me in his arms. I bring my hand up to his chest clutching at the fabric, as I cry into his chest.

I never thought this would be happening, but I'm glad it is.