Finding John
Chapter One
He said I had beautiful eyes. Those were the first words he ever spoke to me. Actually, they were, “Did you know that your eyes shine like the ocean when the sun hits the waves?” It was the first time someone besides one of my family members had complimented my eyes. And from then on, I was hooked.
He was never one to speak his mind, usually quietly sitting in class, simply listening to the teacher talk. He always sat alone at lunch, never seeming to want to converse with anyone, almost like he didn’t know how to talk. He had always interested me. He was the one puzzle I couldn’t seem to figure out. But I was determined. And when he talked to me, it felt almost surreal, like the first step to accomplishing my goal was finally reached.
Maybe it was because we were a lot alike, both shy and reserved, without many friends. Or maybe it was because we simply needed each other. All I know is that, for some reason, he was there, standing right in front of me, when I needed him the most.
--
Walking home that warm September day, I felt odd, almost like I sensed that something was wrong. The trees were starting to turn colors, the warm reds, oranges, and yellows unknowingly changing the atmosphere; making children giggle and point upwards toward the bright leaves. My next-door-neighbor, a gray-haired man named Stan, was sitting in his garage, smoking a cigarette, like he always did around 3:15 in the afternoon. And when I walked in the front door, my dog, a jack russell terrier coincidentally named Jack, wagged his small tail and started barking at me. I smiled, patting his head, before heading towards the kitchen. As I walked past the staircase, my breath caught in my throat and I stopped dead in my tracks.
At the bottom of my staircase laid my mother, head cut open and drenched in blood.
I screamed and rushed towards the kitchen, where the nearest phone was located. I quickly dialed 911 and told the receiver the information he needed to know. Running back to the living room, I checked my mom’s pulse. Non-existent. Deciding that there was still a sliver of hope left, I proceeded to perform CPR on my mother, my attempts failing. When the ambulance showed up, three men rushed to my mother’s side. After a few moments had passed, one of them, a skinny brunette, turned to his co-workers and said, “Time of death: 3:27 pm.” Then he turned to me. “It appears that your mother accidentally fell down the stairs, sometime around 10:30 this morning. She suffered a severe concussion, which eventually lead to her bleeding to death. I’m sincerely sorry for your loss. Where is your father? May I call him?”
I stayed silent, just nodding my head.
“We’re going to need a number,” he told me.
I nodded again, while he got out a pad of paper and a pen. “It--It’s 834-743-6749,” I told him, my voice shaking as the tears finally left my eyes, forcing me to wipe them off with my arm.
The man carefully dialed the numbers. “Uh, yes. Is this the husband of Mrs. Andrea Conner? Yes, this is Officer Paul Carney. I’m sorry to tell you that your wife has suffered a fatal fall.”
And that was all it took for me to break down.
He was never one to speak his mind, usually quietly sitting in class, simply listening to the teacher talk. He always sat alone at lunch, never seeming to want to converse with anyone, almost like he didn’t know how to talk. He had always interested me. He was the one puzzle I couldn’t seem to figure out. But I was determined. And when he talked to me, it felt almost surreal, like the first step to accomplishing my goal was finally reached.
Maybe it was because we were a lot alike, both shy and reserved, without many friends. Or maybe it was because we simply needed each other. All I know is that, for some reason, he was there, standing right in front of me, when I needed him the most.
--
Walking home that warm September day, I felt odd, almost like I sensed that something was wrong. The trees were starting to turn colors, the warm reds, oranges, and yellows unknowingly changing the atmosphere; making children giggle and point upwards toward the bright leaves. My next-door-neighbor, a gray-haired man named Stan, was sitting in his garage, smoking a cigarette, like he always did around 3:15 in the afternoon. And when I walked in the front door, my dog, a jack russell terrier coincidentally named Jack, wagged his small tail and started barking at me. I smiled, patting his head, before heading towards the kitchen. As I walked past the staircase, my breath caught in my throat and I stopped dead in my tracks.
At the bottom of my staircase laid my mother, head cut open and drenched in blood.
I screamed and rushed towards the kitchen, where the nearest phone was located. I quickly dialed 911 and told the receiver the information he needed to know. Running back to the living room, I checked my mom’s pulse. Non-existent. Deciding that there was still a sliver of hope left, I proceeded to perform CPR on my mother, my attempts failing. When the ambulance showed up, three men rushed to my mother’s side. After a few moments had passed, one of them, a skinny brunette, turned to his co-workers and said, “Time of death: 3:27 pm.” Then he turned to me. “It appears that your mother accidentally fell down the stairs, sometime around 10:30 this morning. She suffered a severe concussion, which eventually lead to her bleeding to death. I’m sincerely sorry for your loss. Where is your father? May I call him?”
I stayed silent, just nodding my head.
“We’re going to need a number,” he told me.
I nodded again, while he got out a pad of paper and a pen. “It--It’s 834-743-6749,” I told him, my voice shaking as the tears finally left my eyes, forcing me to wipe them off with my arm.
The man carefully dialed the numbers. “Uh, yes. Is this the husband of Mrs. Andrea Conner? Yes, this is Officer Paul Carney. I’m sorry to tell you that your wife has suffered a fatal fall.”
And that was all it took for me to break down.
♠ ♠ ♠
This is a re-write of an old story of mine, entitled Finding Jane. Nothing has been changed, added, extracted, etc. from the story except for the name change of Jane to John and the subsequent pronouns that come with that.