Short Stories and Poems

Winter

 Early winter mornings smell like cigarettes and cold.

Regret settles and anger follows.

Coffee spills on the carpet.

/ The one we bought together/

The spoon follows with a clatter.

Splatters everywhere –

The table

The chair

The walls

My shirt

/ My mind/

 / It can never be wiped clean again./

Kids playing outside, building snowmen.

/ Something I could never give you/

All’s pretty, covered in white

/ Like your wife in her dress on your wedding day /

And I hate the world. 

Cherries & Cream

"So, if you are too tired to speak, sit next to me for I, too, am fluent in silence."

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        R.Arnold

I'm still finishing my homework when my mom me calls from the kitchen . 

"Diner will be ready soon and it's great. I know you'll love it, I made it especially for you".

The thought of having dinner with my mother makes me  snort.

 I sometimes hate Dad for leaving us, but then I remember what my mother’s like and I kind of understand him- I wouldn't want to be part of this whole mess either.

Something drops, breaks and she curses and that's it for me- I  just can't stand being at home anymore.

Whatever.

I type a quick message to my friend. Recently he's been the first person I think of when something happens.  

"I hate this rotten house" . 

I get a reply as I'm almost out, putting my jacket on.

"Hey, what's up".

I start typing, delete. Then again.

I realize I can't just type : "Yo, hey. My mom's been pissing me off.

Again.

The way she's been  since I can remember.

 And no, she's not trying.

 Oh, of course you didn't know- no one does.

 Her job? Well, she got fired, then lied to me she's sick.

 No, there's nothing wrong with her health.

Yes, I’m fine too- I might get hit by car in a few, so who knows.

How about you? "

No, this is ridiculous, enough with the imaginary conversations.

I  put my phone back  in the back pocket of my jeans and head out. 

 I take a random direction, going absolutely nowhere. I'm so angry I clench my fists so tight my nails are digging my palms. Last time I'd been clenching so tight my palms were scratched.

Tears sting my eyes, threatening to fall down, but I can't let them streak down my face when I'm in the middle of the street. I bite the inside of my cheek instead. I taste blood and the metallic smell hits my nose.

My phone buzzes occasionally, but I simply ignore it.

I keep walking, for no clue for how long.

An hour?

I remember when I was a kid, but not too young to be unable to comprehend why my mother would go to sleep at 4 pm, I had to sit through all of this, just waiting- waiting for her to go out, because she wouldn't just leave me alone and because I couldn't just go out and wander aimlessly the streets for hours.

I've actually thought about it a few times- whether it would've been better if I had shared all of this with someone.

A friend? A relative? Why had I never done it?

It's not like they wouldn't understand- probably they would at least try to. No. It's mostly because I wasn't ready to admit it. Besides- what would they do? Give me another mother?

I'm starting to get tired and although I really, really don't want to go back - I have to.

 I don't have any money on me and it's getting dark. 

A block away from home I see my friend  sitting on the hood of his car, smoking.

What is he doing here?

He probably seen me coming his way, because he gets up and puts his cigarette out.

"What happened?"

I pause and nervously look around. 

"Hey, Nick.  Nothing happened. What are you doing here?"

I glance toward my house but I can't see if the lights are off already from where I'm standing.

"Why did you send me a message then in nothing happened?" He tilts his head, regarding me. I look away and when I don't reply he comes closer.

 He lifts my chin and I have no choice but to look up and meet his eyes.

I feel like he sees right through me and that's not the first time I feel like he's already  read my mind.

"Let's go for a walk. " He says shortly and opens the door of his car for me.

We get in and  make a few stops to the supermarket before  he drives out of town. We reach a spot that's high up the mountain, but we sometimes come here because of the view.

He takes a blanket out of the car and spreads it on the grass. It's dark, but he leaves the lights of his Audi on and we sit down, just watching the scenery  in front of us.

"It's nothing special, actually." I say, pointing ahead when he passes me the bottle of whisky he's bought.

"It's not too bad. I've seen worse."

"I can't imagine." 

We stay like that for a while, just drinking and talking.

It's mostly him talking, telling me about the places he's been to, stories about the first time he went in Spain or about the first big concert he went to with his friends.

 He's casually trying to distract me, and I already know Nick is never casual. 

My head starts spinning and we've almost finished the bottle, so I lean back on the blanket. 

 He’s still sitting up, telling me something about one of his friends.  I want to reach my hand out and pull him back next to me, but I know it's a really bad, stupid idea. 

I look up at the night sky then and see the stars, their shiny eyes looking back down at me.

At us.

There's nothing special with  them being there, they're just pretty. Calming in their cold perfection. Distant but I guess that makes them even more desirable.

 Like all unattainable things, they're more attractive because we can only admire them from afar.

Maybe that's exactly what makes them special.

If they were down here we'd probably stomp and trudge on them the way we do with rocks and we’ll stop noticing them.

They'll become a nuisance, a hindrance.

Something that gets stuck in our shoes.

So yeah, I guess I don't want to reach the stars, I'd rather stay down here and watch Nick’s turned back on me. 

And I will never tell him I’ve liked him since the moment I saw him a few months ago. I will never tell him he became my closest person in such a short time, that he knows thing about me that people who have been in my life for years have no idea about.

He turns to face me then and his voice breaks the silence, pulling me away from my thoughts.  

"Let's go, you have school tomorrow. "

He says it like that doesn't refer to him too.

It probably doesn't, he's just passing by anyway. 

We pack all our stuff and head back. 

I know he always listens to music in his car- really loud at that, but  it's quiet now, this calmness and peace are his gift to me.

 He didn't ask me again what happened, or why I was so upset earlier. 

 I glance in his direction and see he's resting his elbow on the open window. The air coming from outside's cold, mixing with the smell of smoke coming from the cigarette he's smoking. I catch the light scent of his perfume, the one always lingering around him; the street lights are reflected in his eyes, which he keeps focused on the road ahead.

And I realize something- if the price for this small moment now was what happened earlier, all the quarrels with my mother, I'd pay it one hundred times again and wouldn't even stop for a second to think better.

 There's no where else I'd rather be. And that’s all. I don’t want anything else.

We reach my home shortly and he pulls over. 

"We're here," he says and smiles one of his smiles that never fail to stop me from thinking. 

"Are you sure you don't want to ..." I don't even know what I can suggest.

"I'm sure. You're vulnerable now, and probably still upset ,so I don't want to take advantage of that."

I want to argue that I'm fine ,that we could stay for a while, talk more, but I only say

"Thank you."

"Pleasure's mine."

He leans in and kisses my cheek. Then my forehead.

"I'll see you tomorrow, cherries and cream".

He waits for me to get inside and leaves.

I close the front door and  I head upstairs to the bathroom.

 Once in there, I pour the whole bottle of my Cherries & Cream shower gel in the bathtub, run the hot water and get in.

I close my eyes and try to empty my mind.