Sinful Bedcovers

Yet another story written a while back for my creative writing class. It's... family betraying family. What a fine idea. :)

Sheets of cold, bleak November rain fall from the deep grey clouds. The strength of the water beats the last of autumn from the trees; finally winter is coming. Howling wind can make a person jump, keep them from sleeping, but not me- I’m a writer.

            A child-like wonder holds my face, the light from the moon glistening on the droplets on my window. I smile at what I experience; no matter how many times I see this, it can never get old. Slowly, I twirl my black-ink pen between my fingers, my blank notebook keeping my lap company. Inspiration is something I need to find and bad. I haven’t written anything in weeks; how can I get published without a story?

            My mother suggested I write about how lame my high school is; everyone there, she says, has no creativity, no voice, and no talent. Nothing but conformity and lameness.  In desperation, I almost did, until it began to rain this morning. I glance at my alarm clock; it’s midnight.  Where has the time gone? I sigh, leaning forward letting my head rest on the cool, wide bay window. From my seat, I look down upon the street- inspiration? No, nothing.

            “I have as much inspiration as I do friends,” I moaned, getting up. Stretching, I surveyed my “studio”; one part of the floor I have. Mother let me have the whole attic when I turned 15, two years ago. Up here, I have my studio where I can write, my bedroom, a bathroom, and an extra room for my “own wants and needs”, as my mother put it. I guess she has a lot of wants and needs; the whole second floor is hers and we, sometimes, share the main level.

            Entering my room, I lazily flop down onto my bed, becoming, suddenly, very tired. I breathe heavily into my pillow, the warm air bothering my face. I flip over onto my back. Within minutes, I change my position; I knew I would sleep fitfully.

            The next morning, I’m up at 4 a.m., an hour and a half before I normally am. Sighing, I arise from my warm bed; the air was frozen, letting me know that my mom forgot to put the heat on last night. I wrap myself up in my fuzzy, plush comforter, put on my warm, purple slippers, and go downstairs.

            On the second floor, I pass by my mother’s room, on my way to the stairs leading to the main level. I hear her stir in her room, making me tiptoe; she doesn’t need to be awake, so why should I wake her?

            Upon reaching the bottom level, I begin turning on lights, mainly to comfort myself; my house is strange at night. Turning to my kitchen, I notice a bright red sports car parked across the street from my house. I knew that wasn’t there last night; I assume the family of athletes across the street felt like wasting a little more money. I shrug and pour myself a cup of coffee I found sitting, warm, on the burner, which is off.

            Bored- the only word to describe me half way through my school day. I feel like I did this morning, sitting up in my room with a cup of coffee, staring at a wall. And I sit here now and do the same thing; only I’m striving to find a shard of inspiration. While thinking, Mike Velt, the most attractive senior in my school, sits next to me in the noisy lunchroom. Looking at him, he smiles.

            “Hey, how are you?” he asked. It took me a minute to realize he is talking to me.

            “Fine,” I stuttered. I look away from his beautiful golden eyes to stare at my notebook; I feel an idea brewing.

            “I was wondering,” Mike said, touching my hand, “if you’d like to… go out with me?” Quickly, my eyes snap up to meet his; did he just ask me what I think he did? I smile; now would be the time to tell him I like him.

            “Umm… uhh… I would… love to.” I feel like a fool; why couldn’t that have been coherent?

            “Awesome. Can I give you a ride home?” The lunch bell rang, making the noise level rise.

            “Sure.”

            “Meet me outside the school by the senior lot.” Smiling at him, I collect my books and leave the lunchroom. I have a boyfriend, not to mention the head honcho of my grade level; I need to tell my mom of this great news.

            My mom and I don’t talk much anymore, but our relationship is still strong. Every night she doesn’t work late, we sit up in her room and talk about what’s been going on throughout the day. I know she doesn’t have work tonight, so I’m going to let her know. I think she’ll be as happy as me.

            “Hey,” Mike smiled, placing an arm around me, “ready?” I nod, still not believing everything that happened today- it happened so fast.

            Following him through the lot, he began talking to me- how was your day? Did I surprise you at lunch? Simple things to that effect, with simple yes and no answers supplied by me. When we stopped walking, it was in front of a bright, red sports car, like the one I found this morning. I smile, getting into the passenger seat; seeing the car this morning was a good omen.

            “Nice car,” I smiled as he started to back out of his spot.

            “Thanks. My parents gave it to me. Did your parents give you a car?”

            “I sometimes use my mom’s, but next time I see my dad, he promised me one.”

            “You don’t live with your dad?” Mike turned onto the street in the direction of my house. “I guess they’re divorced? My parents might get a divorce soon.”

            “No, he just can’t live with us because of his job in the military; he’s stationed on the other side of the world and we can’t stay with him. My mom says he should be coming home soon, since he only had to be out there for five years and it’s coming to a close of the fifth year.”

            I only have to half direct Mike to my house, which is on the outskirts of town. He eyed the big houses, as if looking for something. Showing him which house I live in, he pulls into the driveway.

            “Thanks Mike.”

            “No problem, babe.” I can feel myself smiling; I find it funny how I had said yesterday I have no friends and now today things are different. In a quick, swift movement, Mike leans in to kiss me, catching me by surprise. I kiss him back, a smile forming inside my heart. As quickly as it happened, it was over. I smile at him and exit the car, the smile staying until I can no longer see his car.

            I run into my house to my studio; an idea has blossomed and its name is Mike. I sit on the bay window’s bench with my notebook and pen and look outside; rain is rolling in. I write his desription as best I can; a wide smile, amazingly beautiful golden-brown eyes and… now I’m stuck. Nothing more is coming to me; how can I describe my boyfriend, who seems so perfect? Hours go by and all I have is a smile and eyes. I glance at my clock; it is almost seven. Considering myself hopeless, I travel down the stairs to my mother’s room; she’s a writer, maybe if I describe Mike to her, she can help me. As usual, I walk in without knocking.

            “Mom,” I begin, walking in, “I have awesome news to share and I need help with… something…” I notice someone else laying in her bed with her, under the covers. All I could think of was my childhood when those two loved each other; she kept saying, since the day he left to serve his country, she loved daddy, and has for about 20 years.

            My mother froze, saying nothing to hide or explain what I’m seeing. Rain begins to make pit-pat noises on her large windows, only adding to the mood of this room. The body next to her came out of hiding; a wide, but now shameful, smile and amazingly beautiful golden-brown eyes looked at me.

            “Mike?!” He could say nothing.

            “You… but you asked me out today. You just want to get closer to her that was your mission, wasn’t it?!” He stayed silent. I can feel tears burning in my eyes; not only have I no friends, I lost the respect I had for my mother, and my boyfriend. After slamming her bedroom door, I fly up the stairs, crying hard. Tears matching the force of the falling rain outside. What was going on? How did I not notice?

            Slowly, I fall into my studio, collapsing on the bay window’s pure white seat, random notebooks becoming my cushion. Laying on my books of purities, in my world of impurities, I need not to think anymore; I have my inspiration.

Author's Note

Editing suggetions please. Also I have a problem staying consistent with my verb tenses... :)