Chapter 1
We just barely moved to Los Angeles, but I can still feel the sense of being unsafe in my sleep. My body tense under the covers even if I didn’t want it to be.
The smell of intense alcohol. Whack!
The suspicion.
Metal belt buckles clinking into position. Whack!
The alertness.
Cries coming out of my mother’s voice. Whack!
Even my current dreams reminded me what I’ve witnessed and would replay what I would hear through the barrier of reality and my dreams. And like often, today I woke wide-eyed at a sudden noise which I would’ve first assumed to be a sign of danger, but it was merely my alarm clock.
I pressed the alarm clock off and sat up, gazing around my new still-packed room. There were only a few boxes containing my very few things. We left most of all of our stuff at Harrold’s house.
“Donna?” my mom says through my door. Her voice was soft and still groggy from sleep. “Breakfast is ready”.
“Coming” I smacked my morning-breathed mouth and climbed off of my mattress on the floor, reaching towards a box of some clothes.
My mom leaves and I watched her small shadow leave the view from under the door. ‘She has been through so much’, an idea I’ve kept lately.
After a hot shower, I changed into the last clean pair of clothes I had. A white hoodie that has been a victim of accidental paint splatters, black ripped jeans, and my black, slightly worn out converse. My clothes weren’t much, but I tried to keep what I have for a long time. I’ve had these same pair of converse since I was a freshman in High School. Now I’m a freshman in college.
I tied half of my short, brown hair into a bun and applied eyeliner and Chapstick. Checking myself in my bathroom mirror before leaving my bedroom and down the stairs to the kitchen.
Mom was putting the last pair of toasted waffles onto a disposable plate and filling up a foam cup with orange juice. All we had was disposable dishes at the moment. She sees me walk in and I can tell by her tired eyes, that she too has trouble sleeping. Her smile was half-heartedly, but she still tries to not allow her feelings inside reflect out.
“Good morning” she says, sipping on her coffee. The small heat wave clouding her glasses.
“Morning” I smile. I’ll bet she also noticed it being half-heartedly.
She leans onto the island counter and gestures towards the pile of waffles and orange juice in front of her. Because we had no tables or chairs at the moment, I sat on the counter while I ate. My mom didn’t put much attention to it as she stirred her coffee.
“First day of college-eh?” she glanced up at me. I nodded as I chewed on a small piece of waffle. My appetite completely absent. “Yeah” I scoffed, “college”.
It wasn't like I was dreading the idea of going to school. It's just never in a million years did I picture myself calling myself I was aware that being here was a major blessing for us, even if we aren't fully equipped. But we are just managing with the little money mom has saved. It's better than staying over there.
She leaned back and pointed at my backpack that was next to the front door, “do you have everything you need? Notebooks? Pencils? Calculat-”
“Yes, mom” I sipped my juice. Giving her a please-don′t-worry-about-it look. Her eyes casted down and she chuckled lightly, “okay”.
There was no doubt she was worried for me and about me. Many times I tried to reassure her that we are far away from him as possible and that we are here to start anew. I’ve gotten through to her, for the most part, but a small part of her kept her looking to the past. A wash of melancholy and love-sick tragedy clouded her eyes as she continued to remember his face. Not the one we left, but the one she fell in love with.
I caught that gaze as we sat quietly and interrupted them by saying, “I better get going. Don’t wanna miss the bus”. Mom looked up at me, somewhat grateful I snatched her away from those visions. “You’re right”, her eyes shifted to my barely touched breakfast, “please eat lunch over there” she sighs.
To give her relief I said, “I will”. But that will depend if any of my mood changes, which was unlikely.
