September Leaves
One
I settled into the taxi my mom had paid for, watching her out of the corner of my eye as she struggled with my suitcase; she'd insisted that I let her take care of it while I sat in the nice, cool taxi. I rolled my eyes again, spinning my new hair between my fingers. She'd bought it for me as my "going away" present, and I'd let her, because quite frankly, she couldn't do anything else for me.
I know she was my mom, but sometimes I didn't even think I was her child. She just didn't get anything about me.
I sighed, boredom setting in tangibly inside the yellow checkered car as the driver gave me a look that said "Really? Seriously?" and I returned his look with a "Yeah, tell me about it."
He stifled a smile and I got out of the cab, picking my heavy suitcase up with one hand and putting it in the trunk as my mom only wished she could. She gaped at me but recovered by the time I reached her for our fifth hug goodbye; she was blubbering again.
"It'll be fine," I told her with a hard smile, and she latched herself onto my front, soaking my jacket with her tears. She sobbed something that sounded like "My baby is all grown up..." and I rolled my eyes again.
For Christ's sake, I was seventeen. A junior in high school.
"It'll be okay," I reassured her again as I patted her back and the driver honked his horn, as thoroughly annoyed at my mom as I was. "Mom, I've got to go now."
She looked up, eyes red, and nodded once, pecking me on the cheek before letting me go; her husband came out of the house then, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and sending me a sad smile. Leon wasn't such a bad guy, I just didn't like it when he thought he was my dad instead of my step-dad. I waved goodbye from the window as the cab pulled away from the curb and I let out a sigh.
"Airport, please."
"Now boarding flight 309 to San Diego, California," the woman's voice said coolly from the overhead speakers, and I grabbed my carry-on, a messenger bag with my iPod, camera, cell phone and favorite novel, The Heroin Diaries, before standing behind a business man talking on his cell phone as he gave the lady his ticket and she nodded him through. The clock read 9:13 and I sighed; I usually got up at noon, and with good reason. I was not a morning person.
"Here," I said bluntly to the lady as she reached for my ticket and I slapped it on the counter, eyes narrowed under my over sized sunglasses. She waved me through, giving me a displeased look that she could do so, and I trudged to my seat in coach, settling in for the four hour flight with my headphones already in my ears and my novel already open to where I left off in Nikki Sixx's life.
A voice came on overhead, and I removed an ear bud to hear the instructions to buckle up and brace for descent, paired with a cordial "Thank you for flying JetBlue."
I hate flying JetBlue. They're rude and their movies suck.
Not that my mom would know what I liked and disliked.
I clutched my bag, turned up my music, and looked out the window to see the declining landscape around me. I felt better once the plane stopped on the tarmac; call me sick, but I always think the plane will crash on the landing.
I rushed past the other passengers who were just beginning to grab their things, and was the first one off the plane; I had some bad claustrophobia.
"Kate, over here!" My head turned in response, and I found myself smiling as I saw my dad holding up my little sister, Layla, who held a cardboard sign reading "Katie" and a big smile, just for me. I had missed my family.
"Katie Bug, we missed you!" my dad's voice boomed around the airport as we hugged and my little sister latched onto my leg, eyes wide.
"I missed you too, dad, really." I was all smiles as I picked up my darling little sister and swung her around. "How have you been, dolly?" I asked her as I poked her belly and we made our way to the luggage claim turnabout; I kept my eye out for my obnoxious purple suitcase as I listened to her prattle on about her friends and all her teachers and the boys with cooties. What I wouldn't give to be four years old again.
My dad grabbed my suitcase and led me out to his beat up Chevy truck; I loved that truck, and it felt good to see it again, like I was really home. He threw my suitcase in the bed and I hopped into the passenger seat, pulling Layla onto my lap, as my dad began to drive the familiar road back to his old suburban house. Normally, we sat in silence and Layla fell asleep while I fiddled with the radio. The faded white house came into view as my dad cleared his throat-- always a preemptive to speaking.
"How's your mom been?" His voice was cool, and overly aloof-- I rolled my eyes under the sunglasses I still wore before I answered, just as nonchalantly. "She's okay. Leon's keeping her good company. She seems happy. Really," I said earnestly, shaking Layla's shoulder lightly to wake her up. My dad's brow furrowed as he pulled into the driveway and turned off the truck. I didn't wait for him to start in on the whole reason I was here, so I unbuckled myself and rushed out to the bed of the truck, grabbing my suitcase and standing at the front door before my dad could even blink. The man was slow; at least Layla was already standing by me, grinning without front teeth.
"Jeez, kid, when did you lose those?" I asked her, bending down to eye level with her as my dad locked up the Chevy and made his way to us, slowly. She giggled as I poked her sides and replied bravely. "I lost them a week ago," she beamed, obviously proud of this fact, and I picked her up to swing her around in another hug as my dad finally unlocked the front door, grabbing my suitcase for me.
"You didn't have to-" I began, but he waved it off dismissively, smiling in a way that only he could before lugging it through the door; I followed, and set Layla on the couch, looking around.
The house hadn't changed much, even though I hadn't been here in about four years. The walls were still the same light green color I remembered, the ceiling just as high as it used to be. He even had the same stereo system and big screen television I loved. It was like time hadn't touched the place, and for that, I was grateful.
Layla yawned, closing her big brown eyes as her lips made a perfect "O", and she snuggled into a pillow as dad trumped back downstairs, slightly sweaty. His eyes brushed over his youngest daughter before they found me, standing somewhat awkwardly above her, as though I was protecting her. And in a sense, that's how I felt.
"You have the same room as before," he told me softly, not wanting to wake up Layla. I just nodded, eyes staying on my sister. "Nothings really changed, Kate." His voice sounded sad, and I wanted to hug him in that moment, make him feel better. My poor dad had so much weight on his shoulders... it just wasn't right. But I resisted the urge to comfort him, nodding once more before I turned towards the staircase; was it always so steep and winding? The spiral seemed to last forever, and my hand rested on the iron railing as my dad spoke up for the last time of the hour. "Dinner in an hour?" he asked, and I nodded a third time, trudging the delicately crafted metal steps to my room-- the second of three rooms that composed the second floor of the house. The room was just as I left it three years ago- white, pristine, and utterly neat. It had been too long; the dust on my desk had seconded my thought, as I swept a good inch off. My bag lay on my bed, and I gladly pulled out my belongings, placing them on dusty shelves and on rusty hangers, looking at the clock once I sat on my newly re-made bed. It was time for dinner. With a heavy heart, I dragged my feet down the stairs again, and into the dining room. It, too was untouched by Father Time. Layla sat in a dining chair as I did, instead of her old high chair. I kept forgetting how much she'd grown.
"You're not vegetarian, still, are you?" My dad sounded worried, and as I eyed the plate of steaks he carried to the table, I could imagine why. I simply shrugged, and with a wide smile took the biggest steak I saw. Dad's eyes widened at this, and I laughed.
"I gave it up after five months, dad," I reassured him as I cut the meat and dug in; he hadn't lost his touch in cooking.
All too soon, I was out of food, warm, and stuffed to the top with meat and potatoes. My eyelids began to droop, and I bid my family goodnight with kisses on the cheeks before I stumbled upstairs, dressing blindly for bed before brushing my teeth and setting my alarm. Tomorrow would be hellish; I started high school as a junior. I drifted off to thoughts of rushing halls and rude people as I stared at the full moon hanging outside my plate glass window, tinting my walls gray. Things were changing, and I could feel it.
I know she was my mom, but sometimes I didn't even think I was her child. She just didn't get anything about me.
I sighed, boredom setting in tangibly inside the yellow checkered car as the driver gave me a look that said "Really? Seriously?" and I returned his look with a "Yeah, tell me about it."
He stifled a smile and I got out of the cab, picking my heavy suitcase up with one hand and putting it in the trunk as my mom only wished she could. She gaped at me but recovered by the time I reached her for our fifth hug goodbye; she was blubbering again.
"It'll be fine," I told her with a hard smile, and she latched herself onto my front, soaking my jacket with her tears. She sobbed something that sounded like "My baby is all grown up..." and I rolled my eyes again.
For Christ's sake, I was seventeen. A junior in high school.
"It'll be okay," I reassured her again as I patted her back and the driver honked his horn, as thoroughly annoyed at my mom as I was. "Mom, I've got to go now."
She looked up, eyes red, and nodded once, pecking me on the cheek before letting me go; her husband came out of the house then, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and sending me a sad smile. Leon wasn't such a bad guy, I just didn't like it when he thought he was my dad instead of my step-dad. I waved goodbye from the window as the cab pulled away from the curb and I let out a sigh.
"Airport, please."
"Now boarding flight 309 to San Diego, California," the woman's voice said coolly from the overhead speakers, and I grabbed my carry-on, a messenger bag with my iPod, camera, cell phone and favorite novel, The Heroin Diaries, before standing behind a business man talking on his cell phone as he gave the lady his ticket and she nodded him through. The clock read 9:13 and I sighed; I usually got up at noon, and with good reason. I was not a morning person.
"Here," I said bluntly to the lady as she reached for my ticket and I slapped it on the counter, eyes narrowed under my over sized sunglasses. She waved me through, giving me a displeased look that she could do so, and I trudged to my seat in coach, settling in for the four hour flight with my headphones already in my ears and my novel already open to where I left off in Nikki Sixx's life.
A voice came on overhead, and I removed an ear bud to hear the instructions to buckle up and brace for descent, paired with a cordial "Thank you for flying JetBlue."
I hate flying JetBlue. They're rude and their movies suck.
Not that my mom would know what I liked and disliked.
I clutched my bag, turned up my music, and looked out the window to see the declining landscape around me. I felt better once the plane stopped on the tarmac; call me sick, but I always think the plane will crash on the landing.
I rushed past the other passengers who were just beginning to grab their things, and was the first one off the plane; I had some bad claustrophobia.
"Kate, over here!" My head turned in response, and I found myself smiling as I saw my dad holding up my little sister, Layla, who held a cardboard sign reading "Katie" and a big smile, just for me. I had missed my family.
"Katie Bug, we missed you!" my dad's voice boomed around the airport as we hugged and my little sister latched onto my leg, eyes wide.
"I missed you too, dad, really." I was all smiles as I picked up my darling little sister and swung her around. "How have you been, dolly?" I asked her as I poked her belly and we made our way to the luggage claim turnabout; I kept my eye out for my obnoxious purple suitcase as I listened to her prattle on about her friends and all her teachers and the boys with cooties. What I wouldn't give to be four years old again.
My dad grabbed my suitcase and led me out to his beat up Chevy truck; I loved that truck, and it felt good to see it again, like I was really home. He threw my suitcase in the bed and I hopped into the passenger seat, pulling Layla onto my lap, as my dad began to drive the familiar road back to his old suburban house. Normally, we sat in silence and Layla fell asleep while I fiddled with the radio. The faded white house came into view as my dad cleared his throat-- always a preemptive to speaking.
"How's your mom been?" His voice was cool, and overly aloof-- I rolled my eyes under the sunglasses I still wore before I answered, just as nonchalantly. "She's okay. Leon's keeping her good company. She seems happy. Really," I said earnestly, shaking Layla's shoulder lightly to wake her up. My dad's brow furrowed as he pulled into the driveway and turned off the truck. I didn't wait for him to start in on the whole reason I was here, so I unbuckled myself and rushed out to the bed of the truck, grabbing my suitcase and standing at the front door before my dad could even blink. The man was slow; at least Layla was already standing by me, grinning without front teeth.
"Jeez, kid, when did you lose those?" I asked her, bending down to eye level with her as my dad locked up the Chevy and made his way to us, slowly. She giggled as I poked her sides and replied bravely. "I lost them a week ago," she beamed, obviously proud of this fact, and I picked her up to swing her around in another hug as my dad finally unlocked the front door, grabbing my suitcase for me.
"You didn't have to-" I began, but he waved it off dismissively, smiling in a way that only he could before lugging it through the door; I followed, and set Layla on the couch, looking around.
The house hadn't changed much, even though I hadn't been here in about four years. The walls were still the same light green color I remembered, the ceiling just as high as it used to be. He even had the same stereo system and big screen television I loved. It was like time hadn't touched the place, and for that, I was grateful.
Layla yawned, closing her big brown eyes as her lips made a perfect "O", and she snuggled into a pillow as dad trumped back downstairs, slightly sweaty. His eyes brushed over his youngest daughter before they found me, standing somewhat awkwardly above her, as though I was protecting her. And in a sense, that's how I felt.
"You have the same room as before," he told me softly, not wanting to wake up Layla. I just nodded, eyes staying on my sister. "Nothings really changed, Kate." His voice sounded sad, and I wanted to hug him in that moment, make him feel better. My poor dad had so much weight on his shoulders... it just wasn't right. But I resisted the urge to comfort him, nodding once more before I turned towards the staircase; was it always so steep and winding? The spiral seemed to last forever, and my hand rested on the iron railing as my dad spoke up for the last time of the hour. "Dinner in an hour?" he asked, and I nodded a third time, trudging the delicately crafted metal steps to my room-- the second of three rooms that composed the second floor of the house. The room was just as I left it three years ago- white, pristine, and utterly neat. It had been too long; the dust on my desk had seconded my thought, as I swept a good inch off. My bag lay on my bed, and I gladly pulled out my belongings, placing them on dusty shelves and on rusty hangers, looking at the clock once I sat on my newly re-made bed. It was time for dinner. With a heavy heart, I dragged my feet down the stairs again, and into the dining room. It, too was untouched by Father Time. Layla sat in a dining chair as I did, instead of her old high chair. I kept forgetting how much she'd grown.
"You're not vegetarian, still, are you?" My dad sounded worried, and as I eyed the plate of steaks he carried to the table, I could imagine why. I simply shrugged, and with a wide smile took the biggest steak I saw. Dad's eyes widened at this, and I laughed.
"I gave it up after five months, dad," I reassured him as I cut the meat and dug in; he hadn't lost his touch in cooking.
All too soon, I was out of food, warm, and stuffed to the top with meat and potatoes. My eyelids began to droop, and I bid my family goodnight with kisses on the cheeks before I stumbled upstairs, dressing blindly for bed before brushing my teeth and setting my alarm. Tomorrow would be hellish; I started high school as a junior. I drifted off to thoughts of rushing halls and rude people as I stared at the full moon hanging outside my plate glass window, tinting my walls gray. Things were changing, and I could feel it.
