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Aubry

  Being sad is having the ability to turn on the light. Depression: Flipping the light switch on, the light remains broken. Trapped in darkness. Feeling of inadequateness chains me down to the bitter cold ground.

   "Aubry, do you have any darks that need to be washed?"

  "No ma."

  It hasn't been a week yet, and my mother is already irritating me to death. And always looking at me. I love my mother, but she has to understand it is hard to adjust from not hearing a word from your mother at school to now having to do so. But she won’t get it. She could probably care less. I guess she is tired of me already too. I watch her slowly take her time walking down the steps to the cold basement. Noises of creaks creep through the house. And it just hits me. Yep, I am back at home. No longer living the life on campus, full of acres of green trees, overflowing with freedom. Pots in the kitchen sizzle and aroma of macaroni and cheese surrounds me. I am tempted to get a taste, but I dare not. Twirling down the hallway in my pajamas, I grab my Blackberry and check Facebook. Boring. Nothing new. Same ol' folks changing their status and uploading dozens of random pictures at a time. Man, I’m bored. I need to find a job or an internship. Like today. I need to write.

  Walking around the house in zombie-mode, I constantly daydream about Brian who hasn't texted me all morning. And I absolutely do not want to text first. Or should I? I always text him first. It is always a contest to see who caves in this contest. I feel like when I do, I am a loser. Tip-toeing back into my room, I stare at a photo of Brian holding me in his arms. We were so happy last summer. Although Brian is holding me closely, smiling in the picture, I can tell that even then, our romance is crumbling. Our relationship is no longer fresh but decaying.

  Rotting every day. And our friendship is lost. We never get along. At least that’s what it means to me. I knew problems would become an array of condiments of an unhealthy courtship once I walked across that stage. Now that I moved back home, my storybook relationship with Brian is surely changing into a hectic tragedy because I don't trust him. I love this man so much, but I can't seem to trust him. I cry almost every night. If I'm not crying, I'm probably arguing with him via text. He hardly calls me. I know what's going on. But he doesn't know that. No one does. But God. And I am too ashamed to talk to God about it. Since graduation, I’ve been crying myself to sleep. I miss everyone from school. I inhale the misery. I exhaled wretchedness. Headaches. Heartaches. Twinge. Worriment. All wrapped around me. Choking me.

  All this and I know that boy ain’t shedding a tear about me. Brian will be back in school and I am not too sure if I could trust him. Especially with the way that he is acting now. I see random girls commenting on his statuses and pictures. I try to not suspect cheating. But I can’t help it. Who are these girls? Don’t they know that I am his girlfriend?

  Setting my Blackberry down, I creep into my mother's room. Lying across her bed is a magazine. A magazine I have never seen before. Published in the city of Detroit, curiosity arouses my brain cells. Flipping through the pages, I indulge. The stories. The photos. The content is awesome and I need to be part of this. Since March, the search for writing internships in Detroit has been a hellish roller coaster ride. I can't seem to find an opportunity anywhere; especially here in the city. I need to be more aggressive in contacting various editors. I must not give up. At least, not too quickly.

  I am going to send a quick email to the managing editor and see what happens. Silent prayers escape my heart, hoping to run into God and tap him on his shoulder to get his attention. I just need a chance to intern for a magazine. I crave for this opportunity. I want to write. I want to network with so many different people. I need to go tighten up my resume. I need to use that degree. I need to get my life started.

  Mainly, I need to get out this house.

  Charles

  "Is this really necessary?"

  Watching Olivia jam clothes and shoes into her tiny suitcases and raggedy boxes, my world flips upside down and burns. Ignoring our tears, my fiancé is stuffing her bags to walk out my life.

  "Baby, I thought we were trying to work this out?"

  "Charlie, we can't. We don't ever get along. We tried talking everything out, but nothing is working. We are always knocking each other out. Besides, this is what I want."

  "Oh come on! You don't know what you want!"

  "Yes I do! You don't know me anymore! Just get over it!"

  "How can I get over it when I love you and..." How dare she say that to me?

  "Just stop it! Do not bring love into this. It is not about love. It’s about what is right. And this is not right. We are not fitting for each other anymore. I’ve been thinking about this for a very long time. I don’t feel the chemistry that we had before."

  "You are breaking my heart. We just got engaged."

  "And staying in this relationship is breaking mine. I don't want you anymore."

  How could she say that to me? She doesn’t want me anymore? She just threw my heart in the

  trash.

  "Olivia, you are not making any sense."

  "And this, me and you, doesn’t make sense." She slams her suitcase on the ground. She looks at me. Finally.

  "We were going to get married."

  Olivia starts to look down at the ground, slowly biting her bottom lip. Tears start to fill up her tiny dark brown eyes.

  "I understand that but I don’t want to marry you anymore. Ok?"

  "So, let me think, what you want is to move out? We have a son, Olivia? Oh, or did you forget about his heart too? He loves you. Don’t you love him? How could you do this to me? How could you do this to Cayden?"

  "Look, you don't know what I am doing, so I appreciate if you stop-"

  "Stop what?"

  "Stop thinking that this is about you."

   

  Aubry

  "I got the internship!" I squeal with laughter.

  It's been a few days and I finally heard a response from Jaime, editor of the magazine. Bouncing up and down on the sofa, I grab Brian, giving him the most delicious hug ever. Reeks of alcohol tear through my nostrils.

  "I am happy for you, baby,” he says coolly.

  "Really?"

  "Uh... yeah, duh fool." He says, pushing me off him. "I said I am happy for you."

  "I mean, I know you are, but why baby?"

  "Because I said so. Damn, if I say I am proud of you, I am. Just leave it alone."

  "Well... oh… ok... thank you." I snap back with feelings of groveling upsetting my stomach. Heartsick.

  "Yeah, whatever,” Brian says pitifully.

  Slamming my body closely to his, he kisses me, biting on my lips.

  "I love you baby and I am proud of you, ok?"

  "Ok and I love you."

  My bottom lip is on fire with pain. Tingles of torture. Is he lying to me? While I try to suck the numbness away in my life, Brian reaches for tissue and blows his nose for the eighth time in a row. He has been sick for a couple days, but he just ignores it. Of course, he doesn’t care. And I don’t know why I do.

  "Did you take anything, babe? You sound worse."

  "Oh really, huh? Oh ok, shut up."

  "I'm sorry, but you sound sick baby. Geez, I just wanted to make sure that you get better before you go back to school."

  "But I am, ok, damn. It’s just allergies."

  Brian always speaks to me like I’m a dirty disease. His friends tell me I must be the one for him because no other girls allows Brian to talk to them in a foul manner. Either that or I am just that stupid.

  "Brian, come drink this," his mother yells from downstairs.

  "No!” he yells back.

  "Brian, come drink this. I made this for you to help open your sinuses."

  "No,” he repeats.

  "Aubry, sweetie, can you please come down and bring this to Brian."

  "Baby, come on, I’ll get it and you better drink it, ok baby?"


  Jumping off the couch, I start heading out Brian's room. A jolt of pain shoots up my arm. Squeezing my arm, Brian grabs me and slightly shoves me down the stairs. Instead of letting me fall, Brain twirls me around and glares at me.

  "I SAID NO." His words were thickly imbued with derision.

  Letting me go, Brian darts downstairs.

  Did...did he just....did he try.... to throw me down the stairs? Oh my God.

  Charles

  In this scorching hot August sun, downtown Detroit fills with an ocean of hungry folks attending a variety of festivals. Jazz festival. African festival. The Hoedown. That amazing feeling overwhelms the city. I usually take photographs of these hearty Detroiters every summer. But right now, I am not feeling up to it. Lately, I haven’t had the energy to take pictures, which is odd, considering that taking photos fulfills my soul. Most of the time now, I just want to throw up.

  It's been a few months since Olivia broke our engagement and I am still depressed. I am sitting in a daze, stung by the unsettling mix of emotions exacerbates by the humidity. A few mundane memories of Olivia and I together shuffles around in my brain, and I can’t seem to refuse to let go.

  "Hey da-da," Cayden burbles loudly.

  "Hey Cayden"

  "I lub you."

  "I love