Who's Who

I'm not completely blameless… no one in this story is. I'm getting ahead of myself. The first thing you need to know about me is that I'm not the popular girl, the pretty girl, the girly girl. I am average in every way and that's putting it mildly. I over-think things to the point that I stress myself out to no end and I mean in a "no sleep, eat everything in the candy drawer (even the gross holiday flavored Hershey's kisses that they try to pass off as candy), and still worry about the consequences" way. I am a worrier, and I've known this since I was in elementary school.

When I was seven or eight, I came home from school and gave my Dalmatian dog, Max, a treat for Valentine's day. Unfortunately, no one told me that dogs shouldn't have chocolate. I never said a word to anyone, it seemed unimportant. For some reason that night my parents had gotten on the topic of candy. I told them even Max wanted some of my Valentine's day stash.

 

"Well don't give him any! Dogs can't have candy, especially chocolate. They'll die." My dad just said three sentences. I instantly tensed. It was only a few Butterfinger BB's, that couldn't hurt, right? He maybe ate three of them, that's all, right? I went outside every few minutes to check on Max to make sure he wasn't dead on my garage floor. Like I said, over-thinking it… a total overreaction. Many horrible things happened to that dog, but not because of me and not because of the BB's.

 

But that isn't the story. No, the story is long and twisting and something I wish I didn't have to tell but I'm still not able to tell it yet. You need to know more about the people in it. Non-bias is not an option for myself. I take my side and the side of a few other family members. You can afford a little more background information though. So here's the rundown.

 

There's my mother, Karen. She's strong and determined. She's always told me to avoid cliques and that there is no reason to not be friends with everyone. That's because she was friends with everyone and didn't acknowledge cliques. Clearly, she grew up in a world different from my world where the name of your neighborhood, or lack there of, defined your friends… at least they did in the beginning. My mom can start a conversation with anyone and they instantly like her. That's just how she is. I never had the troublesome relationship that most mothers and daughters had in their teenage years. It just never occurred. That's probably because we didn't have the option. My mom was never away, never not-watching… unlike someone else, my dad.

 

I love my dad and I'm sure you're assuming things about him right now and stop! There's no divorce, no abuse, and no infidelity (at least there better not be). My dad has an unusual job, though it's not really unusual but for my sort of friends, it seems to fall into that category. He's a ship engineer that goes all over the world working on… ship engines, duh. He's gone for months at a time. Think "Peyton" from "One Tree Hill." He's done it since before I was born, so it really doesn't bother me. In fact, it may bother me more when he retires and never leaves. I'm not being mean, he feels the same way. When you're accustomed to something that way, it's hard to give it up.

 

The next player, my grandfather, my Opa. I know, I know… it's German for "grandpa." Just go with it. I said I love my dad, and I do. But even with my dad gone so often during my childhood, I wasn't down a dad. My Opa was one of the pivotal people in my life. I think about his attitude and persona more than anyone's when deciding something important like what school to attend or job to take. Would he be proud? Sure, of couse he would, but would he like something else better? What would Opa do? WWOD, haha! Honestly, he was a dad. Dotting and adoring of me more than I deserve.

 

You can probably guess that he's not around anymore. He died in 2006, ten days after my 20th birthday. That fact escapes many people, including my entire family, but it doesn't escape me. My birthday was the last day I saw him. I came home from college just for the weekend to visit and get some presents. I tried to call him the weekend before he died. I always called on Saturdays, that was the day I did laundry. I could wait for my clothes to be done and sit outside on the phone. It made the time go faster. But that weekend, I was lazy.. I waited till Sunday. He wasn't home but was instead at Busch Gardens with my grandmother, my Oma.

 

The next day, he had a routine procedure. Endoscopy, something that is done a hundred times a day in just the county we live in. But unfortunately, as you can guess, it didn't go according to routine. Someone struck a blood vessel or something and he started bleeding too quickly. His doctor's office was literally across the street from the hospital. He was rushed there and after surgery, he seemed okay. When my mom called she said he seemed tired but fine. I remember I couldn't talk to him. I think it's because he couldn't talk or something, I don't really remember. He was going to have to stay in the hospital for a few days but he was going to be fine. Everyone said he was going to be fine.

 

He wasn't… that's it… there it is… he just wasn't fine. He died early the 18th day of October. I got the call shortly after 9:30 in the morning. My phone was only on because I was about to get ready for my 11am World Religions class. I saw it was my mom and instantly was wondering why she would call so early. College students don't wake up unless necessary and she didn't know my schedule yet. She told me quickly, probably because she couldn't quite control herself. In that instant I didn't know what to do and my brain went dead for a moment. After that, my day was spent in my bed, crying but only in between phone calls. Everyone called. I had never lost anybody. Not a friend, not a faceless relative I barely knew. Not even a family friend that I had never meant. Sure, kids died at school but most of time they were people I wasn't even sure were in my grade. The only "person" I ever lost was Max, my dog. He was put to sleep and I knew it was coming. There was so need to cry, so I didn't.

 

But that was a dog! Not my grandfather, my Opa… a dad to me in many ways that I don't know how to describe.

 

My Oma had a hard time with it, she still has a hard time with it. They were married for fifty years, ten months, and eight days. And he never stopped loving her. Their relationship was something to admire. I can't attest to what it was before I was born. But all I ever saw was love. It seemed right. There was humor and teasing, but not mean or degrading. There was frustration matched with adoration and stubbornness matched with the willingness to accommodate. My Opa would do anything for her. He was devoted, in every sense of the word, to her. He had the personality that I hoped my future husband would have. But I doubted I'd be that lucky. My Oma was one of the luckiest people because of him. That's how I saw it, I hope it's how everyone saw it. I idealized it, which roughly means I saw the ideal. Possibly not the truth, but I don't care. It was truly something to marvel at.

 

My Oma was the German one, she meant my Opa when he was stationed there for the army. Yeah, he was solider, need I say anymore? She had been married once, but it didn't work out. She was a once-divorced mother of one. In that time, it was unheard of. Many of the men that liked her had their mothers telling them she was no good. Boy, were they wrong, good for me though. He adopted her little girl, my aunt. Then within a year of their marriage, they had another little girl, my mom. 

 

My Oma is blunt and can be harsh. It's the German… and the time period she grew up in. It's her. It doesn't mean that she isn't loving and caring and is still one of the sweetest grandmothers known.

Reviews

[BlyndSikick]

Great beginning... I can already sense a lot of drama simply from the character descriptions. They seem to have depth and multiple sides, not just one dimensional characters. All the characters seem like they are (or could be) really well developed, especially the narrator. I'm interested to see where this one goes...