Status: Not sure on the title for this story or the names in this story. But it's an idea I've been thinking about for a long time considering photojournalism is something I am extremely into, so I would love to hear what some people think of it :)
The Life and Death of Someone Famous.
Chapter One
In one moment my whole life had changed. That's all it took...
I stood there, frozen. I couldn't manage to get out a single word. Finally the person on the other end of the phone, someone who worked with Robbie, broke the silence and said, "I'm sorry.", then hung up. I don't know how long it took me to put the phone back on the hook. Not that it would have mattered. The one thing I had tried so hard to hold on to was gone. My life would never be the same.
I finally hung up and walked to the kitchen. I stared out the window above the sink. It looked so peaceful outside. The pastel colors of the surrounding houses, the people outside walking their dogs in the summer heat, the bright green of the grass on the hill outside our house... Although now when I say anything like "us" or "our" it would only consist of two people, instead of three...
Then it happened, right then and there, while I stood at the sink. I broke down. All of the memories seemed to flash through my head all at once. Starting from the earliest memory of when I was only 21.
I had been running errands with my mother in town, and there I saw him. He looked so perfect: Black hair that stopped at mid-ear length, blue eyes that sparkled in the bright, early spring sunlight. I couldn't stop staring at him.
Robbie was sitting in a circle of people all wearing love beads, sandals, and some wearing beautiful, long, flowing skirts.. He seemed too busy at first to notice me staring at them, at him. But then, not too long after, he looked at me. But it was more than just that. It was like he looked into me, deep down into my soul, and I could break free. It had only been a couple second when my Mother yelled towards me, "Please keep up, darling! I don't want to end up losing you in the middle of town." She was feet away from me, so I had to run to catch up.
It would be weeks until I saw that man again...
I snapped back to reality, wondering how on Earth I would tell Flight about his Father. He's Six years old, how is he going to take the news? He'll be back from his friend's house soon, I'll have to figure out something. I sat down at the table in the kitchen, wondering what I was going to do.
Thought after thought entered my head about how I would let Flight know. I'm not even sure if Flight would notice if I didn't, with what Robbie did for work (though it was more like a hobby than work) he was never home a whole lot. Always either in a different Country working on some big project, talking with the President of the U.S., or hosting some sort of peace rally.
Of course Robbie tried to be in Flight's life as much as possible: taking him to baseball games every now and again, playing in the back yard, just being around Flight whenever he could even if they were just playing with Lego's in Flight's bedroom. I wouldn't be surprised if Flight felt ignored by him anyways. His job seemed more important to him than anything, not that it was a bad thing. His job was, indeed, a very good thing for the world.
I heard a car door shut. I got up to go open the inside door in the front of the house, then being able to see through the glass door on the outside. While Flight was walking over to the walkway he looked up at me with those beautiful, dark brown eyes that seemed to always be filled with compassion and love for anyone and anything.
I couldn't ask for a more perfect son. He was only Three years old when Robbie and I adopted him in 1977 in order to save him from the Dirty War in Argentina that started just a year earlier. While Robbie was there for work, a younger couple had begged Robbie to take Flight (who's name at the time was Sebastian), saying that they didn't want to risk Flight going "missing".
I waved at Flight as he walked up the path to get to the front door. Once he was in the house I let him go play for a bit, I couldn't tell him just yet. "Maybe I should just tell him over supper? Maybe then it will be the right time." I thought. But I knew deep down inside that there was never going to be a "right time".
I stood there, frozen. I couldn't manage to get out a single word. Finally the person on the other end of the phone, someone who worked with Robbie, broke the silence and said, "I'm sorry.", then hung up. I don't know how long it took me to put the phone back on the hook. Not that it would have mattered. The one thing I had tried so hard to hold on to was gone. My life would never be the same.
I finally hung up and walked to the kitchen. I stared out the window above the sink. It looked so peaceful outside. The pastel colors of the surrounding houses, the people outside walking their dogs in the summer heat, the bright green of the grass on the hill outside our house... Although now when I say anything like "us" or "our" it would only consist of two people, instead of three...
Then it happened, right then and there, while I stood at the sink. I broke down. All of the memories seemed to flash through my head all at once. Starting from the earliest memory of when I was only 21.
I had been running errands with my mother in town, and there I saw him. He looked so perfect: Black hair that stopped at mid-ear length, blue eyes that sparkled in the bright, early spring sunlight. I couldn't stop staring at him.
Robbie was sitting in a circle of people all wearing love beads, sandals, and some wearing beautiful, long, flowing skirts.. He seemed too busy at first to notice me staring at them, at him. But then, not too long after, he looked at me. But it was more than just that. It was like he looked into me, deep down into my soul, and I could break free. It had only been a couple second when my Mother yelled towards me, "Please keep up, darling! I don't want to end up losing you in the middle of town." She was feet away from me, so I had to run to catch up.
It would be weeks until I saw that man again...
I snapped back to reality, wondering how on Earth I would tell Flight about his Father. He's Six years old, how is he going to take the news? He'll be back from his friend's house soon, I'll have to figure out something. I sat down at the table in the kitchen, wondering what I was going to do.
Thought after thought entered my head about how I would let Flight know. I'm not even sure if Flight would notice if I didn't, with what Robbie did for work (though it was more like a hobby than work) he was never home a whole lot. Always either in a different Country working on some big project, talking with the President of the U.S., or hosting some sort of peace rally.
Of course Robbie tried to be in Flight's life as much as possible: taking him to baseball games every now and again, playing in the back yard, just being around Flight whenever he could even if they were just playing with Lego's in Flight's bedroom. I wouldn't be surprised if Flight felt ignored by him anyways. His job seemed more important to him than anything, not that it was a bad thing. His job was, indeed, a very good thing for the world.
I heard a car door shut. I got up to go open the inside door in the front of the house, then being able to see through the glass door on the outside. While Flight was walking over to the walkway he looked up at me with those beautiful, dark brown eyes that seemed to always be filled with compassion and love for anyone and anything.
I couldn't ask for a more perfect son. He was only Three years old when Robbie and I adopted him in 1977 in order to save him from the Dirty War in Argentina that started just a year earlier. While Robbie was there for work, a younger couple had begged Robbie to take Flight (who's name at the time was Sebastian), saying that they didn't want to risk Flight going "missing".
I waved at Flight as he walked up the path to get to the front door. Once he was in the house I let him go play for a bit, I couldn't tell him just yet. "Maybe I should just tell him over supper? Maybe then it will be the right time." I thought. But I knew deep down inside that there was never going to be a "right time".