"Together" - a Short Story by Yours Truly

Hi guys!

I decided to share a short story with you today that I wrote all my myself. *grins*
Now, I'm going to collapse into a hopeless pile of nerves and wait with bated breath until you tell me what you think.

Well, ladies and gentlemen, here it is...!!!

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~

I sat down by the stream, watching the little trickles of water flow freely on, down the stream. I saw the tiny tadpoles swimming around n their safe home. Their home.

I wish I had a home.

Technically, I do have a home, but it’s not where I live anymore. I don’t live anywhere. My life is one of wandering. I’ve been to 20 different states and had 26 different jobs - all yard-work, or course. I’m a boy - well, really a man. I’m 20 years old. I’ve never been to college. Maybe people think I’m an uneducated swine. But I have picked up a lot on my travels, and I know a few things. For example, nobody likes to stop. They all rush on as if life is a race, to be run as fast as you can. They think money solves every problem. Well, they’re wrong. I used to have lots of money. In fact, my father is a millionaire. I never worried about money.

That is, until I was 14 years old. My mother died, leaving me and my little sister, who was 9 at the time, alone with my Dad. Mom was our supporter, cheer-leader, communicator, and the force that held our diverse family together. She was a cheerful, bubbly, loving person, and she always had a smile on her face. She would write us thoughtful notes, tuck us into bed, and she loved reading books to us... my favourite was ‘The Children of the New Forest’, but Gina’s was ‘Treasures of the Snow.’ Whenever we argued, Mom would get us to hug and make up. She watched over our lives caringly, and we always felt safe when she was near.

But then it all changed. She got pneumonia, and it seemed like she was gone in a moment. I had no time to tell her I loved her... my throat blocked every time I saw her. I regret that. I always have. When I had to say good bye, all I could do was stare at her pale, gaunt face, and her skin – wrinkled in some places, stretched taught in others, like an old, shrinking balloon. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. My tongue was dry and my eyes were too. Suddenly I whirled around and burst out of the room. I ran away, running... running... forever.

My Aunt found me asleep in a patch of flowers at the Park. By then I was thoroughly rested. All my tears had come before, and now, once again, my eyes were dry. I followed her home in my rumpled shirt and shorts, my hair a floppy mess. My heart was full, but I couldn’t feel anything, wouldn’t. I didn’t care that my Dad yelled at me when I got home. I know he was just worried and tired. I’d been away for a whole night. Poor Dad had been up all night looking for me, and it showed in his own gaunt face. Gina just looked at me with her clear, blue eyes, just like Mom’s, silently asking me how I was. She wanted to talk. But I couldn’t. I shut myself up and locked her out. I convinced myself she’d be better off without me.

After the funeral, life was monotonous and never happy. None of us ever smiled, except for Gina, who tried hard to bring us back together. She tried to take Mom’s place and be the communicator, but neither Dad nor I responded. We ignored her, consumed in our own grief. She tried, but it didn’t work. Then, she stopped. She stopped talking, and never smiled anymore. I always figured that was because of me. I thought I was the problem.

So, I ran away again. This time, for good. I packed up my clothes and a few other possessions, including a watch I got from my Mom, with my initials engraved, and a special message, “Always remember I love you. Mom.”
Before I left, I grabbed some food from the pantry and emptied my piggy-bank. There wasn’t much money, since Mom and Dad always paid for whatever I wanted, but I didn’t  need heaps; I figured I’d hitch-hike my way to a place the next state across, and get a job. Just a little, insignificant, job – I was young, after all. Yard-work would be perfect.

Basically, that’s what I did. I’ve never stayed in one place for too long; I don’t like the idea of settling without Gina. But Gina probably won’t want to ever see me again. So, I’ve never settled.

Now, as I sit by the stream, I wonder what would have happened if Mom hadn’t died. If I’d stayed. Maybe I would have been to college. Maybe I’d be working with Dad as an insurance salesman. Maybe I’d be happy. I wonder if Gina is happy. She probably is, and she’s most likely off having good ties with her friends every day. She’ll be 15 now.

I haven’t seen my Dad or sister for 6 years. Sometimes I want to go back, but then I remember that they’re better without me. Dad and Gina probably get along really well now that it’s just them.

I decided to get up and go back to the city apartment where I stayed at the moment. I made enough by doing yard-work, and other odd jobs each day to live comfortably, although I went without many things. Maybe one day I’d go back home.

The next day after work, I walked to the waterfront of the city to do some sketching. I’ve always loved sketching. Mom loved my drawings, and used to hang them by her bed. She always hugged me tight and told me that she was so proud of me. Looking back, my drawings weren’t that good, but I thought they were, because of Mom’s opinion.

The sky was clear tonight, and I could see the moon, in a crescent shape. The setting sun glared into my eyes, but I appreciated the warmth, and the view was beautiful. The ocean shimmered and reflected the sunlight. Some boats floated in the water, creating a peaceful atmosphere.

As I finished my drawing, I noticed a girl across from me, dressed in rather shabby, old clothes. She was also drawing – no, wait, she was writing. Her black was in a tangled braid, reminding me of Gina. I looked at her for a while, watching her hand dart across the pages of her notebook in scrawling movements. Her pen looked like a favourite – she looked at home sitting there hunched over her well-used notebook. Then she closed it, got up, and walked slowly away.

I also closed my notebook and slowly walked away, in a different direction. I lost sight of her after a while, but she never noticed me. Maybe I’d see her again.

“There’s a new girl in town, living with the Rollos.” My employer told me. “She’s been here a little while. A quiet girl – doesn’t talk much at all.”

I patiently nodded my head, and continued raking leaves. My employer loved to talk, and I don’t stop him. He’s a nice old man, and he tells me about every new person in town. I always listen and nod my head. I don’t have many people to talk to these days, so I find Mr. Benson a good friend, though perhaps a little too talkative sometimes.

“Could hardly get her own name out of her! But I told her about our nice little city here, and I showed her a few places. Poor wee lass seemed quite somber and sad, so I treated her to a meal at Roderick’s - she gobbled down the food like she was Brady eating his candy! (I told her about Brady and his candy-eating. Poor boy will lose his teeth!) Anyway, I said to her, ‘Gina, if-‘”

Stunned, I interrupted him and urgently asked,

“Gina? Her name was Gina?”

“Well, yes, that’s what she said, but I-“

Apologizing for once again interrupting, I asked, “Did she have black hair and blue eyes?”

“Why, yes, young man, do you know her?”

“I may have, sir – would you mind if I take a break for now?”

“Yes! Yes! Do what you need to, boy! Go on!”

I raced around to my apartment and found my photo of Gina from 6 years ago. I looked at it, and then left again, this time in the direction of the Rollo’s house. I chuffed along, breathing heavily, and wondering if it really could be Gina. What would she be doing our here, so far away from home? And to have been so hungry, she must not be eating very well.

Knocking loudly on the Rollo’s door, I stopped and waited impatiently for an answer.

The door opened, and out looked the girl I’d seen at the waterfront.

“Gina? Is it you?” I asked, searching her face. She still had Mom’s blue eyes.

“David?” She asked.

I grabbed her in my arms and hugged her tight.

“I thought you were at home.” I said.

“You left, David. Dad was never home. So I left, too, a year after you.”

“But you were only 10!”

“I know - and I was caught, but I begged not to go home, so much that they agreed - they placed me in foster care. I’ve been travelling from house to house ever since. The Rollos are very kind, but like the others, I’ll only be staying with them for 8 months. Dad’s orders – he doesn’t want me to relive what happened to... Mom.” Gina hesitantly looked at me.

“Gina, why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped you!”

“I didn’t know where you were -  and I thought you hated me, so I left you alone.”

“You thought I hated you?”

“You shut me out. I thought you were tired of me, and that you thought I was a tiresome brat. That you only wanted Dad, not me. You left without a word, so I thought you couldn’t bear life with me any longer. I thought you hated me.”

“Gina, I didn’t! I promise you, I only shut myself up, I only left, because I thought you’d be better off without me.”

“Really?” Gina’s eyes glistened with tears, and I felt grieved to my hear for the sorrow and pain I’d caused her.

“I am so sorry, Gina. Had I known, I would never have run away.”

Gina accepted that, and we took a slow walk together, talking about the past 6 years. We knew Dad was probably tired of living on his own, and that he was probably wanting to see us again. We decided to go back home, and live with our Dad again.

“We need to start being a family again, Gina,” I said.

She nodded.

“Together.”

                              ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What did you think? Let me know! This is pretty much unedited, except for grammar mistakes (sorry if there are still mistakes!) and maybe a couple other things!

Have a great day! :)

Danielle