Choices

This story is about life altering choises. I don't know what the shory means actually. It just came so I wrote it.

Choices

By Lisa Hoffman

It looks like it's going to rain.  The sky looks dark and angry.  My mother always loved this time.  The time just before a storm, when the wind blew and it began to get chilly.  She said you never knew what storm was going to be like.

            She also said that rain was God's way of cleansing the earth.

            I hold on to those words now.  I hold on to everything now that she's gone.  It seems like she took everything with her when she died.  Laughter, music, even yelling.

Sometimes I wish my father would yell.  I wish he would say something,, do something, anything.  He doesn't though.  He's like a lost dog, just waiting for her to come back.

            I jump when I see a reflection in my window.  It's a tall, dark figure.  Turning my wheelchair around, I'm relieved to see that it's only my brother, Derrick.

            "Hey," he says, walking in slowly.

            I don't say anything.  I just turn around and look out the window again.  He understands.  He always does.   Derrick just comes and stands beside me.   "What's going to happen to us?"  I asked after a while, breaking the silence.

            "What do you mean?"  He asked.

            "I mean, now that mom's gone, who's going to take care of us, of me?"

            "Aunt Carol, I guess," he said, shrugging.

            I knew this, but still, I had hoped for a different answer. 

 

A hard lump formed within my stomach.  Aunt Carol was my mother's older sister by two years.  They weren't close, and they rarely spoke, even before my mother died.  She had a husband, Frank.  He was a writer, and liked to work alone in his office for hours.  He hardly spoke, and he did, he grunted.

            My father couldn’t take care of me now that my mother had passed away.  That's what he told me anyway.  I just think he doesn't want me.  At least, he never seemed to.

            Now, I was going to live with an aunt and uncle that I barely knew.  My father thought that because my aunt was a nurse, she would be better suited to take care of my medical needs.  That made no sense to me.  Yes, it was true that I had Cerebral Palsy.  Yes, I did need help with some things, but that was no reason to send me away.

            I looked over at Derrick.  He was just standing there, quiet like a statue.  Did he even care that I was being taken away?

            "Derrick,” I said softly, "please don't let them take me away!  I want to stay with you!"

            He looked down at me with sad eyes, like he was lost or something.

            "What do you expect me to do Molly?"

            I didn't know what to do either.  I just knew that there has to be another way.

            "I don't know," I said, frustrated, "tell them to let me stay with you!"

            "Molly," Derrick explained, "I can't take care of you.  I'm just a kid."

            "You used to," I argued, "when mom got sick!"

            "That was different," he fired back.

            He was looking at me now; his eyes were moist and almost pleading.  His voice was softer when he continued. 

            "We thought mom it was going to get better.  Me taking care of you was only supposed to be temporary."

            There was no arguing with that, so I just let the tears fall.  Derrick knelt down and hugged me.  He then pulled away and looked into my eyes.

            "Listen to me," he said "I may not be able to take care of you, but I will always, always look out for you.  I promise. "

            He kissed my forehead softly before getting up.

            Just then, my Aunt Carol appeared in the doorway.

"Ready to go, kiddo?”

            Kiddo.  I cringed.  She barely knew me, and already, I had been given this stupid nickname.  As she started walking in, I got a good look at her face.  It was like she was wearing a mask.  Her smile was fake and plastic looking.  I could tell that Aunt Carol felt as trapped as I did.  Meanwhile, her eyes held a kind of dread. I gave Jeffery one, last desperate look, but he only shrugged.

            "I'll visit soon," he promised.  

            I didn't say anything.  I couldn't.  Tears blinded me and sadness choked my voice.  It didn't matter.  I knew Derrick was lying, and I knew that I would never see him again.

 

 

Reviews

[Charles Petrie]

Choices

Choice 1: Read more if it came, say the unfolding of all the possible choices? Yes.

Choice 2: Wonder how close this hits to home? Yeah, that I do. But close is not ungood.

Choice 3: Note the skipped over words and little such nags(Sigh)? Yes, but not happily mind you

Choice 4: Also note the Derrick-Jeffrey-Derrick slip of the mind(Sorry)? Yeah, again, not with any joy.

Choice 5: Wish for a clearer pargraph set up(Regrettably)? I do, but that could just be my own liking.

Choice 6: Review and read more of the writer? But of course!!

Bring it forth!