Snow Angels Page 2

 Aubry

  Motown. A broken city. An uprising city. Swirling in the black mucus of traffic, pollution, doubt and financial crisis, the city of Detroit sparkles unconditionally in the balmy morning sun. On the outskirts of the west side, a lost little girl finds her way home. Me. Slowly pull up in the driveway of my parents’ beautiful orange brick house in Oak Park, I quickly turn down the radio. Safe in the ‘burbs, right?

  Deep breath. With all my undergrad years tucked tidily in my suitcases, I constantly squint in the rearview mirror, searching for a miracle. I see traces of nothingness, and my big hazel-nut pupils. Ugh. I look disgusting. Nothing but sadness twinkling in my eyes. Ugh. My mother cannot see me like this. I’ll slide on my thick black sunglasses to swathe my distress. My fear. My disappointment. My depression. Who am I really fooling?

  My mind is burning with the constrained indulgence that I am seriously home. I am no longer at the home where I was on my own. Where I could make up my own mind and not be judged. Instead, I am now stuck at my parents' house. Back in the real world. Cringing as I step out my car, I lightly gloss my lips with my tasty MAC Cherry LipGlass Let me just put on my happy face. Not.

  Why am I here? Why am I home so soon? Most students who graduate from college return home with eagerness to fatten themselves with home-cooked meals and spend quality time with their annoying siblings. Me, um, I feel different. I just can’t explain it. I hide under bricks of dolor and hopelessness. I feel so misplaced. But right now, I’m hungry and so ready to go straight to sleep. All that driving from Ohio made me so tired.

  Another deep breath.

  Even though it has been four short years that I've been away at school, I am in no rush to walk back in that house. But I can’t stand outside forever. Step by step, I walk in with a few bags, a hard-earned degree, no job and an ounce of ambition.

  "Hey bud,” my mother says as I drag one of my suitcases in the kitchen.

  "Hey mama."

  "How was the drive back?" My mother quickly sits down at the kitchen table as if she is waiting for me to tell her a tall tale.

  “It was cool. It was okay, you know. Pretty smooth,” I say indolently. I don’t want to talk really. I want to get in the bed.

  “That's good. Your dad was telling me earlier that he heard on the news that they are still working on I-75.”

  “Yeah, they were in some areas. They are always working on 75. So irritating. I hate the construction.”

  “Troy! Go help your sister with her bags! Now!”

  My brother is 17, handsome and addicted to the internet. Bolting up the stairs, Troy nods at me, quickly runs out the door to get some of my suitcases out of my trunk. Then he runs back down stairs. Facebook awaits his presence.

  "Hey Troy." I yell downstairs.

  "Hey." He yells back.

  I roll my eyes. Walking into my old room, I feel as if I am jumping into a trap. Webs of annoyance trample all over me. I just don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know who I want to be. In school, I had everything. Now, I am home with nothing, but love letters from Sallie Mae.

  Oh shoot, I forgot to text Brian.

  Grabbing my bright pink Blackberry from my purse, I text my boyfriend, Brian, letting him know that I made it home safely. Waiting impatiently for him to text me back, I resend the same text. Why in the world am I still with this boy? I ask myself this every day. Every hour.

 

  Message.

  "k."

  What is he doing? Nowadays, it always takes him forever to text me back. I’ll just set my phone on the dresser and lie back on my bed, and try to suffocate myself with my fluffy pillows. But it never works. Rolling over, I face up towards the ceiling and at my fate. What am I going to do with my life? Why haven’t I figured out life yet? I feel so empty. I need to get my life together. Before my soul shrivels up and dies.

  "Make sure you change your clothes, lying on your bed with those dirty clothes, girl."

  "Ok, ma, I will."

  Blood pressure rises. Not only am I irritated that I can't sink in the arms of my boyfriend, I must listen to nagging.

  Sitting up, I pull my honey-colored hair into a ponytail. Long strands slowly fall on the carpet. Yuck. Deep breath. Then another one. God, you can’t be serious.

  Charles

  Where in the world is she at?

  I am so sick and tired of her doing this to me. The kitchen sink is filled with dirty dishes. Again. I guess I’ll wash the dishes again tonight. Before I start washing the dishes, I want to make sure that Cayden is ok. My son is so chunky and funny. He knows how to cheer me up. In a few weeks, my big boy turns 2 years old and I am so excited. His butter brown eyes bring wonder to...wait, the door just slammed. I run into the living room, finding her, drenched in rain and in her sobbing tears.

  "Are you ok, Olivia? Where have you been?"

  "Yes, I need to talk to you, Charlie."

  "Uh, yeah, we need to talk. Did you forget what time it is?"

  Throwing her wet red pea coat on the couch, Olivia rushes into the kitchen. I walk in after her. For months, we have been fighting day and night. Knocking each other with words and paving brick walls of silence. Open wounds that seem to never heal. No matter how much we tried. If we are going to have a happy marriage, she must stop her childish ways. We are planning to get married around Cayden's birthday and I want things to get...

  "We really need to talk."

  "Ok, we can talk because you coming in late like this is not cool. Baby, you need stop..." I try to walk up to her. She walks away.

  "Don't tell me what to do."

  Why are her eyes red? It looks like she has been crying for hours.

  "Um, baby, what is wrong?"

  I try to kiss her to calm her down. Instead, she pushes my face away gently. Standing there like a bashful child, clutching at her heart, trails of tears slowly stroll down her face.

  "Charlie, I am done."

  "Um…done with what?"

  "With you. With us. With this. With everything. I can't take it anymore. I am done."

  "What?"

  Pushing her curly jet black straight hair out of her face, Olivia then places her hand over her hips. Looking down at the carpet, she slowly takes off her glasses.

  "I am done. I don't want to be with you anymore."

  "Huh?"

  "Charlie, I can't take this anymore. I am moving out. Tomorrow."

  "Olivia, you are not serious. You can’t be. We talk about this all the time. We can talk this through again baby."

  "No, I can't anymore. We argue too much. We fight too much. And you know it."

  "And you know that I love you, regardless."

  Silence.

  "I will pick up Cayden in the morning too."

  "So, you just are going to walk out on me just like that huh?"

  Here I am, standing in front of the girl who I promised to love always and forever. The girl who I wouldn't dare imaging living without. The girl who is the mother of my beautiful son.

  The girl who has awfully fallen out of love with me. At that moment, I watched my fiancé walk out of my life.

  God, you can't be serious.

  "Oh, here is your ring too."