Part 4: Home

I walked down the steep dirt road until I saw the sunlight glimmering off of the water. I felt the excitement rise inside of me, as I began to walk faster and faster until I was almost running. I felt the wind blow in my face, tears running down my face as I imagined I was running with Benny again, our hands intertwined, laughing as we went. I smiled and laughed, reaching the bottom of the hill quickly, almost out of breath.

 

I looked around at the sand, mounds of it were everywhere, it was like it was a never ending sea of sand, only ended by the water, which lapped at the shore. I walked onto the uneven surface, noticing some teenagers in the distance playing volleyball, laughing and screaming in joy and euphoria. This was the most beautiful place I had ever seen in America since the garden in the backyard of the Rowley’s.

 

I felt the warm sunlight hit my shins as I sat down on the sand, untying m shoes and removing my socks. I carried my shoes with me as I began to walk into the water, my feet and legs going numb. I stopped once I was in up to my knees, taking deep breathes in, imagining I was still at home, that Benny would be waiting on shore for me to return so she could have her turn to play in the water.

 

I imagined that the burning sensation that flared when water touched my hip, was nothing more than a sunburn. I imagined no neglect; that my real parents were still alive, that I still had the necklace and watch to remind myself of them. I looked down into the shallow dirty water of the lake, and saw a beautiful yellow and red fish swimming around me, just out of arms reach. I placed my free hand atop the water of the circling fish, and imagined that I was petting the creature.

 

I felt tears begin to run down my face, remembering how much joy could be found in life if you just stopped and took a moment or two. I closed my eyes and felt the sun shine down on my whole body, as the wind blew my hair away from my face.

 

“Hey!” I heard a male voice cry out, followed by splashing and a warm hand on my shoulder. I jumped away from the touch, losing my balance and falling into the water, ruining my shoes. I sat up and wiped the mixture of tears and water from my eyes, before reacting to who it was.

“I’m sorry for startling you!” The voice laughed out, sound husky and unfamiliar. Maybe one of the teenagers that was playing volleyball came to ask if I wanted to play? If it had been, I would have kindly rejected, and continued with my recollection of memories from my long past.

 

“Here,” he stuck his hand outwards towards me, “I’m Timothy.” I grabbed his hand, and felt myself being almost thrown out of the water from sheer force of my new found friend.

 

“Uh, hi, I’m Emily,” I said, shaking my shoes and trying to de-blur my vision. Timothy looked like a skin coloured blur to me, with some black hair and a black shirt to follow. Weird attire for a beach, but in America, who knows what’s normal?

 

“Oh, well, hi Emily, here let me help you to shore,” he grabbed my sore arm, bruised from the night before, and lead me to the sand, my feet loving the warmth that flowed from the small grains.

 

“Thanks,” I said, trying to force myself away from him, his grip remaining hard. I felt a rush of panic as I noticed the harder I fought to get away, the harder he held onto me.

 

“Wait! Don’t you want to wipe your face at least? I don’t think you intended to fall face first into the water, did you?”

 

“Actually, I was, I just wanted someone to blame.” I joked, smiling as I slowly regained my vision. He had dark brown eyes, which were red, black long sleeve shirt and jeans, now soaked to the knee with water.

 

He laughed, and handed me a towel that smelt of honey and rosebuds. It was almost intoxicating, as I inhaled deep gulps of the scent while ridding my face of water. I handed him the towel, and examined his face more, wondering what this boy has lived through. Red eyes could mean drugs, or lack of sleep. The black clothes could mean social rebellion, or personal choice. He had a small nose with a rounded point, a small circular scar abouve his right temple, and short black hair.

 

“So, as I said, I’m Timothy,” he stuck his hand out once more, “and you’re Emily.” I shook his hand, afraid of what would happen if I didn’t. I wasn’t completely brainwashed into thinking that everyone was out to hurt me, but it was still in the back of my mind.

 

“Yeah, Emily Mon- I mean, Emily Rowley,” I said, having to correct myself before giving him my original last name. Getting adopted only keeps the first name, never the last, and I knew that one day, I would forget it completely and be lost as to who I truly am.

 

“Nice to meet you, I’m Timothy Williams,” he smiled, showing off his white teeth, “so what are you doing here alone?” He asked, gesturing towards a towel he had placed down onto the sand a few feet from where we were standing. I shrugged my shoulders and walked over with him, taking a seat across from him, and telling the long story of how I got to where I was now.