Its over already? I've been asking myself this question for who knows how long. Summer went by so fast, even though each day felt slower than the last. But who would have guessed I have to go back to school in one week? Am I being played, or on camera? Nah, they are serious, and if I was on camera, I would find out easily.
My mom keeps telling my "Oh, you'll have fun, Mel. You know you miss school" Yeah, another year at Hamrick High, the hell hole of all life. Yes, oh boy I'll have a blast. Ah well, I got to just get it over with.
But, I don't think I'm quite ready to give my soul into school work just yet. I need one more free night to live; just a worry -free , party night. Which is part of the reason I've been brushing my hair for the last hour pretty much.
Emma is having her annual End of Summer bash. And this year it was to be huge; a self competition each year. Everyone at the high school is pretty much invited. I had to look decent. This party pretty much defines who I am in a way.
My mother would never agree to having such a thing at our house. She is way to protective that way. Yes, she is like one of the closest people to me, but also very "motherly". I think she just needs to learn to separate her work life as Judge Carson, to mother. My father always tried to get her in the fun mood. Never exactly happened.
That was how my father acted; total opposite of Mom. He would take me places(after insuring we'd be safe) and try to make my life the most fun it can be. I remember one time, when I was little of course, he took me to the parade. I got on his back, and he would march me to the front on his shoulders, for me to get the best view. I still remember feeling like a princess up there, safe and secure.
But, those days are long over. I hate using the word dead, so instead I say that "my father is no longer with us". That brings back memories of their own, the day I remember so vaguely like it was yesterday.
I was brushing my dolls' hair with a little plastic brush; almost s much as I am doing to my own hair now. I was preparing them for the royal ball as I'd liked to put it. I would talk to them and say "Oh my, how pretty you look", and such. Yep, I was that kind of small girl, the kind that dreams about ponies and catches butterflies.
Then the phone interrupted my play. I heard my mom in the kitchen answer, thinking it might be my father who was late from work. It was silent for a long moment, and then she spoke.
"What? A crash? How serious…" Her voice kept stuttering, and she sounded as if she were about to cry. She hung up the phone, and there was another long silence. Then I heard her footsteps coming up the stairs. I quickly put my dolls away. She never liked it when I kept them all over the floor.
She scooped my up in her arms, and I could see tearing streaming from her face.
"Honey," she said in a sweet, more broken voice, " we are going to have to take a trip to the hospital, okay?
"Are you hurt Mommy?" I said so innocent, it was sad. Her face grew wary, and she shook her head. I could see her trying to look alright, but it was not working to well.
"No, sweetie, it's Daddy. Daddy got hurt, and we have to go make sure he is okay." She carried me out the room. The hospital was cramped and dull. The colors on the walls were neutral and very boring. We hurried to his room. A doctor met us outside the room, with the same worried and exhausted expression of his face. My mother set me down in a chair, told me to stay put, and followed the doctor halfway down the hallway.
I sat there, watching their conversation. My mother started to cry, and the doctor patted her on the shoulder. What was happening? Where was Dad? I started to get worried, and tears broke out. My mother came back, and she cradled me. I still remember her whispering to me while rocking and saying "He's gone, he's gone" over and over.
The next few days after that were hell. My mom wouldn't stop crying, and me too from missing my father. We were both quiet, taking in his loss. I remember the phone ringing constantly; family members calling to give respect. It was very hard for the both of us.
My mother would barely talk at the funeral. It was small; my dad was never the "popular" type. I was crying the whole time, just understanding he was really gone.
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a car horn. I peered out my window. The rain of last night was still lingering, making everything grey and damp.
"Mel! Come on, are you ready? Mel!" I heard Christina call. She was my best friend, and waiting for me to go to the party. I motioned to her, and hurried down the stairs.
"I'm leaving, Mom!" I called and hurried out, not wanting to talk. But, she caught up to me, and I had no other choice.
"Be careful. And don't stay out too late." The usual speech.
"Okay, alright. I will" I could barely believe she was letting me go. I didn't want to stay to long for her to change her mind.
Christina's van stood out on my street; out of date and awkward. I smiled at her and jumped in, slamming the door behind me. Let this night to remember begin, I thought, and I would make sure it was.