Hey everyone. I looked back over this story yesterday and realized I needed to edit it alot. Chapter one was originally almost 5, 000 words long so I split it up into 3 parts and went back and edited everything. I will be posting chapters 2, 3 and 4 soon!
I lean my head against the coolness of the car window and close my eyes. Today my family and I had packed our bags and were moving to Tulsa, Oklahoma. At this moment I was feeling many emotions but the most prominent was anticipation; I had lived in the same house my whole life so I was looking forward to a change.
I was making this move with my father and mother.
I admit, my parents aren't the nicest people on earth but they were family so I loved them regardless of their flaws. My mother is a stern woman, who has never once shown me an ounce of affection. Never had she hugged me or told me she loved me. I am not going to lie and say it doesn't hurt me because it does. I desperately craved her love above anything else.
My father, balding head and great, big beer gut was certainly not attractive, but boy did he pack a punch. I had been on the receiving end of punches many times, too many too count. What hurt more than his hits though was his ability to leave you feeling terrible with a sentence, a few words or even just one. Even after so many years of having his insults thrown at me, they still hurt every time he dishes them out.
Every time I scour my brain to think of a plausible reason why I am subject to such horrible treatment by my parents I come up blank. When I was a kid, maybe 4 or 5 I had hoped that my parents would wake up one day and decide they did love me and we'd be a happy family. As time goes on, this dream seems to become less and less realistic. I do not dwell on my parents any longer though , knowing It will get me nowhere.
I gaze out of the car window as we pass by dozens of neighbourhoods. From our old house in Fort Smith it takes around 50 minutes to an hour to get to Tulsa. It was a long, and would be tedious drive but my huge imagination proved an asset in this occasion. I could get lost in my head for hours thinking about everything and nothing.
The car pulls to a halt outside a wooden one- storey house. The house is painted white, although the paint is cracked and peeling in places, indicating it needed to be repainted in the near future. Other than the need of a good paint job, the rest of the exterior of the house was reasonably bland. I was curious to see the inside of the house, hopefully more interesting than the outside, and explore what would be considered 'home' for the next however many years.
I hop out of the car and spot the removalists pulling up behind our old, grey Citroen 2cV. My father comes over to where I am standing, observing the house and orders me to help the removalists unload the boxes and furniture. I swiftly oblige, approaching the two removalists, who look to be in their early twenties. The look to me as they sense my presence. I work up the courage to talk to them; I always got nervous around strangers.
"Can I help?" I ask, desperately praying they would let me. If my father wanted me to do something then I had too, regardless of how much it benefits him or not.
"You sure kid? You look a little small to be lifting these boxes" The tall one with dark hair says, observing my small stature and thin build.
I stay silent, unsure of what to say. I wrap my arms around my waist and look down, hoping either one of the removalists would break the silence that had settled over us.
"Stick to the light boxes ok?" the shorter, cheerful-looking blonde one says, figuring I wasn't up for talking.
I nod and look toward the house, my father is stood outside with my mother while she makes plans for the flower bed. He is watching me like a hawk. I gulp and scurry to grab a box. The two young men look at me strangely at my sudden urgency to get started but I ignore them. I assume they get over it since the next moment they are beside me grabbing boxes from the van.
With a box full of bed sheets in my hands, I enter the house. Inside of the house, it has the same feel as the outside. The walls are covered in yellow wallpaper that is peeling like the white paint I saw before, although the damage was not as obvious. Brown carpet marred every section of flooring, apart from the bathroom and kitchen which had black and white tiles. I walk down the narrow hallway and look into every room as I pass; 3 bedrooms, 1 bathroom with a toilet, dining room, kitchen and living room are what made up the house. I place the box of bedding inside the biggest bedroom, knowing this would be my parent's bedroom.
The three of us ( the removalists and I) spend 2 hours or so unloading the truck before my father announces that he and my mother would be leaving for a few hours, to explore and go shopping for food. I sigh in relief. Having my mother ordering me where to put boxes and placing stuff exactly where she wanted for the last few hours was staring to grate on my nerves.
My parents pay the two men their money and depart. I wasn't surprised that I wouldn't be getting anything for my hard work. Not a thank you or nothing.
We unload the last few items and then it comes time for the men to depart. I wonder if I should say goodbye or something as a way of being polite. I do not have time to decide for they approach me first.
"Your parents are some nasty pieces of work" the dark haired guy declares. It seemed my parents brought up the same thoughts from every person they met. My mother had no friends due to her nosy nature and her tendencies to gossip about every person in town. My father although, had more friends due to his kind and friendly attitude with anyone but me. It seemed these removalists were more observant than most and realised his change in moods when around certain people.
"I know" I say, glad someone agreed with me.
"What's your name, kid?" Blondie asks.
"Michael, and yours?" I ask, curious as to the names of these two friendly people.
"I'm Tony, and this is John" Blondie says cheerfully, pointing toward the slightly more reserved guy to his right. Tony holds his hand out for me to shake and I tentatively slip my hand into his. I was glad that I had worn a jumper today; the long sleeves covered the hand mark shaped bruises that marred my arms. I didn't want them to bring up unnecessary questions and cause the removal of myself from my family. My father had told me many stories of the boys' home and I certainly didn't want to be sent there.
I ungrasp his hand at the same moment John looks at his watch. His eyebrows rise when he sees the time.
"Tony we've got to head back now, there is another move to do" he says earning a sigh from Tony.
"Ok, wait just a second" Tony replies, opening the door to the van and rummaging around inside the glove compartment for a few seconds. He pulls out a pen and a business card; he scribbles something on the back and hands it to me.
"You need a break from your parents or anything then phone that number, alright?"
I turn the card over to see the word 'Tony' and a phone number written in black pen. I smile gratefully and thank him. He smiles back
"See ya later Michael" he says, ruffling my dark brown/ reddish hair.
"Bye Kid" John says, also ruffling my hair. I grin up at them.
"Good Bye" I tell them, slightly upset that they had to leave, but also feeling more joy than I had ever felt; my heart had been lifted by their kindness.
I give them a small wave as they drive off down the road and around the corner and glance at my old, tatty, blue watch. 2 o'clock. I had a few hours to myself before my parents came home and I planned to make good use of it.
Thanks for reading :) I hope it's better than before I changed it.