My Mind Can't Take Much More

All in all, my dad wasn't too upset about the truck breaking down. He said it wasn't my fault, it could have happened to anybody. The damage ended up being some odd thing that happened with the engine that I really could have cared less about. The only thing I care about is if it gets successfully fixed or not. My father was able to fix it simply and efficiently, so my car was back to normal.

We went and got it as soon as I got home. Luckily my father has a hauling bed attached to the back of his truck. We got the truck up on the bed and drove it back home the fifteen miles I didn't walk. In reality I only walked about one and a half before Johnny came and found me.

When I walked in the door and told my father about my truck he asked how I got home. I told him that a man picked me up. I knew what his reply to that would be as soon as I said about someone picking me up. “You know Hazel. You shouldn't be picked up by strangers at this time of night out in the middle of nowhere. They can be dangerous and they can hurt you. I don't want my little girl being hurt. I know you're twenty and you can take car-”

I cut him off. His electric blue eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head and a smooth line across his forehead began to show. His hands began to ball into two tight fists from frustration. I've heard this speech many times before and I wasn't intending on hearing it again.

“Dad. I'm fine. It was this nice guy about my age named Johnny. He's staying in town a while.” I couldn't help but smile at the thought. I mean, it wasn't like I knew him well. I don't even know how old he is. He was pretty much a complete stranger. The reason the smile showed itself on my lips was because of how ridiculously awkward out introduction was.

Soon enough my father's face began to smooth over and the storm in his eyes died down. Right as he began to calm down my brother came in teasing, “Hazel's got a boyfriend.” He was fourteen but acted like he was about ten. He was my little brother though and I love him like the stars love the moon. I was very protective of the lad and we had a good relationship.

Evan James Alexander my brother's name is. He was born six years after me on a cool fall night of October sixth. He was born small, and still has a skinny frame to this day. He takes after my mother. In all honesty, he has her hips. We don't like to point it out though. He has my mothers curly, brown hair and my fathers bright blue eyes. He had his ups and his downs. He has his group of friends, and his fair share of “true loves that he couldn't ever live without,” and a loving family to come home to every night. When my mother died, he took it hard, and we took it together. The months after her death brought us together. He loved drawing and I swear someday he could get in to some fancy, New York art schools if he tried hard. He was a good kid, and he had a lot of potential. Most of the people I know who have siblings, they don't get along with each other, but Evan and I do. I think we do because we have a mutual respect for each other and we help each other through hard times. Even when it comes to his many “loves” I help him with them.

“I do not. He was just a nice man who found me on the side of the road when my car broke down.” I gave him a loving gentle push and a smile.

“I know sis, I'm just kidding with you.” he replied with a push back. “I just haven't seen you smile about a boy in a long time.”

He was right. I don't usually get too happy about boys. Our introduction was just so awkward it was just so funny. My brother even helped me out when it came to boys. I mean, I've dated but nothing serious. Evan usually first threatens to beat them up, but that usually doesn't work due to the fact of how scrawny he is. He's tall, but very skinny.

“Yeah, well out introduction was just so odd and awkward.”

“Well, you can be kind of shy,” Evan replied with a grin.

“Yeah, well he seemed to be a bit shy too. Johnny did do most of the talking though.”

My dad cut in, “Well, I'm glad you met someone new. It's kind of old seeing the same faces over and over and over and over again.”

I thought he was done when he continued saying, “And over and over and over,” again dramatically with an occasional eye roll. My brother and I both let out a continuing stroke of laughing fits as my dad continued with his rant. That's one thing I really loved about my dad. He always knew how and when to make someone laugh their lungs out. He always told me that laughter was the best medicine, I always believed that to be true.

It was odd, my parents were total opposites compared to their ideas of the world. I sometimes wonder how their relationship ever lasted. Oh well, I'm glad it lasted while it did.

Soon after my father's word explosion was over, I looked at the clock and saw that it was midnight. I really didn't want to go to bed, but unfortunately I had to go to work. I worked at a tiny gas station called Stauffer's Stop 'N Go. It was nice, and I usually worked evening shifts, but not the night shifts. I told my boss that the night shifts were too late for me, so he usually puts me on from four o'clock until eleven o'clock. Wait, you usually worked evening shifts, you can sleep until whenever. I remembered that crucial detail.

I walked upstairs to my bedroom. This was my favorite place in the whole entire house. My walls were painted a soft sea foam green. I loved the color. My bed was straight across from my door and at the foot of my bed was a window that lead out onto a balcony. I had a small chair on the balcony that I liked to read on. I had a collection of posters and drawing on my wall from everything to artwork from friends and my brother to posters of celebrities.

I've never been into all of the people on the radio. I respect them as musicians, but I never really liked their music. I think it's just a matter of opinion, but I respect people for what they do and how they do it.

My dresser was diagonal from my bed and to left of that was a stand with a large mirror on it with makeup and jewelery that I never wear. I've never been really into the whole “pile on tons of makeup and look fake” image. I sometimes wear a few beaded bracelets and a bit of mascara, but that was about it.

On the other side of the wall of my room was an elaborate shelf system of books and movies. I guess you could say I'm pretty much a cinephile/book worm to the extreme. I loved movies, and I wanted to maybe go into film. Directing though, not acting. I'm too shy to act.

I laid on my bed and thought about today's happenings. I still couldn't shake the picture of Johnny out of my mind. He kept his right hand on the steering wheel and kept his left down on his knee. He only switched hands to shake mine. He kept tapping his fingers against his knee almost as if he was nervous about something. I don't know though, sometimes people just had nervous habits.

I had some, my brother had a slight twitch that he got when he was nervous. His eye would just twitch into the back of his head. I found it adorable though.

Pretty soon, I found my eyes drifting shut with the image of Johnny in my mind. As I fell asleep, I realized I could get used to his picture in my mind.