Chapter 8

chapter 8 dudess :)

 Dinner was good. Having a home cook meal was different for once. Joshua and I didn't talk much, much to Mrs Dillinger's disliking. But she kept a smile on her face, and when it was time to leave, she offered to bring me home instead of bothering my father. I accepted kindly.        

        As we went to leave Joshua yelled “See you Wednesday Izzy!”

        I yelled back. “See you!”

        Mrs Dillinger stayed quiet but I could practically feel the excitement radiating off of her.

        When we got in the car I asked “Where are you going to go when you leave me?”

        “I'm not leaving you sweetheart, I'm just not helping you during school anymore.” She laughed. “We're actually moving closer to you. I'm surprised Joshua didn't mention it.”

        “Oh, that's nice. Where to exactly?” 

        “The road next to yours, actually.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “It's the big yellow house, about...hm...two houses, three houses down. Do you know which one I'm- Oh, never mind.” 

        I laughed. But it was full of sadness.

        “Oh, dearie, I didn't mean to upset you...”

        I didn't respond. And that's how the rest of the ride was...silence.

        So now I'm upstairs, laying on my bed. My eyes are open, but I can't see anything...the same as usual.

        Father had tapped my hand three times when I told him about my day. A smile. Mom had taught him that, so he wouldn't always have to say 'I'm smiling'. It gets weird after awhile, hearing everybody tell me what they're doing. Especially when you live with the person.

        I remember that Mom taught Father a lot of things. She taught him how to cook, and she would hug him and laugh when he burned something, instead of scolding him. She taught him how to play chess, in which I loved to listen to the sliding and placing of the pieces, but she always beat him. I remember one day, Father wanted to learn to paint like Mom could, and when it didn't come out as good as he hoped for, Mom had helped him make it look better. Grandfather had explained to me how the colors looked, but I didn't understand.

        One day, when I was very little, I was upset because I couldn't see, and Mom had held me in her lap and rocked me back and forth whispering to me that I was perfect just the way I was. And I never was upset about it again. But laying here, thinking of how Mom used to smell, and how soft her hair was I let a tear escape. Just for tonight.