Alora Smith is a dreamer. With her head always in a book and her sights on her dream to become a writer, it might seem like her head is always in the clouds. But she never gives up on her dreams.
What she doesn't see in her dreams, however, is a ce...
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The engine was still running, as I sat in front of the Smith house. I had been putting this off for forever, seeing him, seeing any member of the family after I left. And guilt was the reason.
I wasn't there for Dan when his wife died. I was so caught up in my life in California that by the time I realized that just sending my condolences wasn't enough, I was too ashamed to make the drive back.
I should have been here. I wrung my hand through my hair, waiting for the courage to walk through the door. It shouldn't be this hard. I was visiting Dan for god sakes, but I felt worse about it than I cared to admit.
If I hadn't run into his daughter on the first day of class, I probably wouldn't be here right now. I would have waited at least a month, maybe longer.
But god, was his daughter an eye opener. It's been way too long. In my absence she's grown into a woman, a beautiful woman. She was a few inches shorter than me, but she had legs that went on forever. Her freckles spread since she was little and her red hair was chopped down to her collarbones whereas it used to be so long that her mother had to tie it up in a ribbon.
Enough said, if she had grown this much since I've been gone, how much has this family changed. Will I ever be able to rekindle the friendship that Dan and I had. There was once I time when I thought of him like an older brother. We were inseparable. But it seems that an over the phone friendship doesn't strengthen any bonds.
I took a deep breath and stepped out of the car, slamming the door shut. Here goes nothing.
Dan opened the door and squinted against the sunlight, before he settled his eyes on me. "Tom?" He asked almost as if he couldn't believe it, which is well warranted.
"It's me," I said shifting from foot to foot. I was a little antsy. Just then the smell of booze hit me like a freight train. I refrained from scrunching my nose up wondering why he was so drunk considering it was only 6pm. That's when I got a look at his appearance. The stains on his shirt, his messy unkempt hair.
Not to mention how it looked like he hadn't shaved in a while.
"Come in, come in," he said opening the door for me. "Let's go sit on the couch."
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and shut the door, locking it for him.
I took notice of the amount of empty bottles on the living room table, as I settled down into the sofa. And I had to say something. "What's going on with you?"
I'd never seen him like this, ever. I'd known him since we were in community college. I'd gone fresh out of high school because it was the best decision financially at the time. Considering I come from a middle class family, my financial aid package wasn't substantial. I thought that 2 years of community college would knock a lot of the cost off.
And it worked for me, within two years I transferred to Yale.
We met in a Music Theory course. I was there to fulfill my general education requirements and he was there because he simply was bored and wanted to learn about piano scales. I thought he was crazy when I met him. He inherited a successful business and yet here he was, back in school. But I also admired him and I looked up to him. I still look up to him.
