Open Fields of Ohio

6 ••• No, You Can't. Yes, I Can.

Special Chapter:

Dawn's Point of View:

In my room, a small space in the attic, since mama wouldn't let me stay in my actualy room for personal reasons, I kneeled in front of my window and picked up a small picture frame. It was me and dad, a few years ago, in a park somewhere.

I was seated in a bench, and he was next to me ... Why did things like this had to happen to me? I'm not a bad person. I'm not terrible ... I sniffed. Taking the picture, I walked to the kitchen, ran water on top of my hands and turned on the stove. I felt mama behind me, so I spoke.

"Now I'm just like you, mama, all you ever wanted." I said in a small, low and defeated voice. I felt numb. I wasn't looking anywhere in particular while the picture burned between my fingers, and the flames that licked softly for a moment in my hands I didn't feel either.

But they died once they touched me, having nothing else to breath to or burn. Note to you: have your hands wet when burning something, it saves you some time to stay without a burn. Not that you should be burning anything like me. Don't do it. Please.

"Why you sayin' that?" My mama said, crossing her arms in front her. I turned, giving her small shrug.

"Because you hate dad, and, I guess I don't like him anymore. And ... I think that you feel alone beause no one likes you." I wasn't being snappy, I was saying facts in here with no threat.

"Listen' to me, missy, I—"

"No, mama, you listen: I still love you." My mom was caught off guard.

"Don't play dumb, girl, and don't olay me—"

"I'm not." You could hear the hooe in her voice. She was just heart broken. Her first marrige: widowed. Second almost-marrige: the man left her for another woman. And now third marrige: the man, my father, gone. "He left when you didn't. And you're my mama.

You don't show you love me, you don't, as much as you want to, because you don't know how. But I'll take it. It's something. But I need it. And right now, you have to check yourself. Because I won't do that for you." Mom stared and so did I, but not at her. I began to think about Tess.

His sweet bright hazel eyes, his soft and silky brown hair, his tan body, his flannel and demin clothing. I smiled a little.

"What can I do, then?" Mom asked, defeated and ashamed. "I'm nit a good mama, and I'll never be. How can ya still have hope for me now?" I hummed internally. Tess showed it to me.

"I always had it, I just didn't know it."

I got dressed in a red V neck, rolled the sleeves to my elbows and but on some black heans with my usual boots. I tied my hair in a braid and put some sun glasses.

My turn to show Tess how good he is.

As little as I've seen romantic movies, I know they are all predictable: the boy gets the girl by buying her twelve dozen roses and chocolates to make her a fat and spoiled little piece of shit. But I don't want that.

I walked to Flowers and Lovers House and bought two sunflowers and stuck them with wild flowers along with a single blood-red rose, tied 'em up  with green string and gave the nice man the forty. I headed to a close Café anf bought a late with extra cream and two sugars.

So sweet. Like him. I smiled at my items and bumped into someone after I began to walk around the block.

"Watch it, bi—"

"Wow, language, little girl." It was a boy. No older than seventeen with dark hair that fell over his eyes, which were blue. His skin was white as snow. New Yorker? Here? "I'm no bi—"