Christina Fisher awoke with a jolt. Her sweat covered body was shaking
uncontrollably. The petite girl rubbed her eyes noticing her blanket was
missing; it was now a heap on the floor, along with the many pillows that
usually layered her bed. The bright morning sunlight was leaking over her
shivering body. She looked out the open window at the beautiful
surroundings; the birds were chirping their happy spring song. The morning
dew covered her window. She smiled at the sight. Maybe today would be
different. Maybe she would be in her old room. Maybe her mother would be in
the kitchen fixing her and her father her infamous apple cinnamon pancakes,
and her dad would be sitting in his old torn up Lazy Boy recliner reading
the newspaper. Maybe everything would be fine again.
She reached to her night stand and grabbed the ponytail holder she kept there all the time, out of habit, and pulled her long blonde, limp hair into a ponytail. Examining her room she soon realized everything hadn't changed. She was still in her small, grimy room.
She paused and rubbed her eyes again. She was so tired. Not just physically tired, but mentally and emotionally too. She missed being a kid. As she lazily sat up in bed yawning, she glanced at her clock. It was 10:15.
Oh no! She thought as she jumped off her naked mattress. Daddy is going to have my head for sleeping in so late! She quickly picked up her usual outfit, a grungy white shirt and worn jeans, then put them on in a hurry. Just as she pulled the shirt over her head, her father stepped into the room. He was wearing a white wife beater and also very worn jeans. There were holes in the knees of them, and they were now a very faded blue. He had a sickened look on his face as he looked at his weak daughter. "Still in bed at 10 in the morning? How lazy can you get Christy?" In his hand was his brown belt, the one Christina had feared for many years.
The small sixteen-year-old hugged her knees at the end of her bed as she peered at her father. "I...I'm sorry Daddy. I...I..." She started to say but was interrupted by her father again, but this time, it wasn't a word he said. He had drawn back the belt, and was now pelting it against her boney back.
_
When her mother had died, Christina was only 10 years old. Before that, her family was what you would call the all–American family. Her mother would always be at home, cleaning the house, cooking, and the typical mom stuff. Her father wasn't abnormal either. He used to work a great job where he earned a nice pay. Her typical morning back then would always be waking up to the smell of delious cooking mixed with the sweet aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Her mother would always make the two of them a 5-star meal and her father would always read the sports or business section of her morning newspaper as he sipped his coffee from the mug she and made him for a previous Father's Day that always read something like "I Love you Daddy" With some kind of picture decorating it, then kiss each of them goodbye as he left for work.
Christina would never forget the day that her mother had been diagnosed with AIDS. She had had a great day at school. She was in the 3rd grade and her teacher had given her a star sticker on her spelling test, with, in great big red letters, "Great Job!" She was so excited to show her mom, she knew that she would be proud of her.
When she ran through the front door of her old house that day after school with the test in her hand, her mother was on the floor crying like a baby.
"Mommy?" The young Christina asked as she walked with a daze to her mother. Her mother looked up; her eye make up was running down her cheek along with black tears. "What's the matter, Mommy?"
"Oh baby." She lifted her arm and hugged her around the waist, holding her tight. "Mommy is..." She paused looking her daughter in the eyes. "Mommy is very sick."
The young Christina pulled away from her mother. "Oh that's alright mommy! Don't cry over that, it's no big deal. You can take some of my vitamins! And we have tissues!" Christina started to walk away to grab some tissues from the nearby table.
"Honey, it's not that simple." Her mother looked over at her as more tears poured down her pale face. "Mommy is very sick. Vitamins or tissues won't make it better."
"You mean that you won't ever get better?"
Her mom nodded her head in response.
"Are...are you gonna die?" Christina's eyes began to fill with tears at the thought of her mother leaving her.
Her mother looked at her young daughter, unable to tell her the realness of her disease. "Eventually I will darling." She took her daughter's head in her hands and kissed her forehead lightly, then wrapped her arms around her.
Christina soon found out that she had had the HIV virus for along time, but being that she never was able to get to the doctors, she now had AIDS, and had also had it for along time, she would die in a few more years.
The days of Christina's mother living with AIDS passed in a blur. She watched her get weaker and weaker. Everyday Christina would have to become more independent. She was not only taking care of herself, but her mother too. Soon, her mother was in a hospital bed 24/7. It was hard seeing the most beautiful woman she had ever seen be so weak and helpless. She remembered when her mom was a strong woman. In Christina's eyes, no matter how her mother looked, she was still a super hero. As her mother got weaker, so did her father. He didn't get weak in the same way her mother did. He was breaking down. Soon after he found out about it, he began smoking again. He would miss several days of work in a row, getting drunk and smoking in front of the TV. Soon he lost his job. When her mother died, so did Christina's way of life.
She reached to her night stand and grabbed the ponytail holder she kept there all the time, out of habit, and pulled her long blonde, limp hair into a ponytail. Examining her room she soon realized everything hadn't changed. She was still in her small, grimy room.
She paused and rubbed her eyes again. She was so tired. Not just physically tired, but mentally and emotionally too. She missed being a kid. As she lazily sat up in bed yawning, she glanced at her clock. It was 10:15.
Oh no! She thought as she jumped off her naked mattress. Daddy is going to have my head for sleeping in so late! She quickly picked up her usual outfit, a grungy white shirt and worn jeans, then put them on in a hurry. Just as she pulled the shirt over her head, her father stepped into the room. He was wearing a white wife beater and also very worn jeans. There were holes in the knees of them, and they were now a very faded blue. He had a sickened look on his face as he looked at his weak daughter. "Still in bed at 10 in the morning? How lazy can you get Christy?" In his hand was his brown belt, the one Christina had feared for many years.
The small sixteen-year-old hugged her knees at the end of her bed as she peered at her father. "I...I'm sorry Daddy. I...I..." She started to say but was interrupted by her father again, but this time, it wasn't a word he said. He had drawn back the belt, and was now pelting it against her boney back.
_
When her mother had died, Christina was only 10 years old. Before that, her family was what you would call the all–American family. Her mother would always be at home, cleaning the house, cooking, and the typical mom stuff. Her father wasn't abnormal either. He used to work a great job where he earned a nice pay. Her typical morning back then would always be waking up to the smell of delious cooking mixed with the sweet aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Her mother would always make the two of them a 5-star meal and her father would always read the sports or business section of her morning newspaper as he sipped his coffee from the mug she and made him for a previous Father's Day that always read something like "I Love you Daddy" With some kind of picture decorating it, then kiss each of them goodbye as he left for work.
Christina would never forget the day that her mother had been diagnosed with AIDS. She had had a great day at school. She was in the 3rd grade and her teacher had given her a star sticker on her spelling test, with, in great big red letters, "Great Job!" She was so excited to show her mom, she knew that she would be proud of her.
When she ran through the front door of her old house that day after school with the test in her hand, her mother was on the floor crying like a baby.
"Mommy?" The young Christina asked as she walked with a daze to her mother. Her mother looked up; her eye make up was running down her cheek along with black tears. "What's the matter, Mommy?"
"Oh baby." She lifted her arm and hugged her around the waist, holding her tight. "Mommy is..." She paused looking her daughter in the eyes. "Mommy is very sick."
The young Christina pulled away from her mother. "Oh that's alright mommy! Don't cry over that, it's no big deal. You can take some of my vitamins! And we have tissues!" Christina started to walk away to grab some tissues from the nearby table.
"Honey, it's not that simple." Her mother looked over at her as more tears poured down her pale face. "Mommy is very sick. Vitamins or tissues won't make it better."
"You mean that you won't ever get better?"
Her mom nodded her head in response.
"Are...are you gonna die?" Christina's eyes began to fill with tears at the thought of her mother leaving her.
Her mother looked at her young daughter, unable to tell her the realness of her disease. "Eventually I will darling." She took her daughter's head in her hands and kissed her forehead lightly, then wrapped her arms around her.
Christina soon found out that she had had the HIV virus for along time, but being that she never was able to get to the doctors, she now had AIDS, and had also had it for along time, she would die in a few more years.
The days of Christina's mother living with AIDS passed in a blur. She watched her get weaker and weaker. Everyday Christina would have to become more independent. She was not only taking care of herself, but her mother too. Soon, her mother was in a hospital bed 24/7. It was hard seeing the most beautiful woman she had ever seen be so weak and helpless. She remembered when her mom was a strong woman. In Christina's eyes, no matter how her mother looked, she was still a super hero. As her mother got weaker, so did her father. He didn't get weak in the same way her mother did. He was breaking down. Soon after he found out about it, he began smoking again. He would miss several days of work in a row, getting drunk and smoking in front of the TV. Soon he lost his job. When her mother died, so did Christina's way of life.
