Pink Lemonade

Red Umbrella

The gray skies are filled with clouds and are leaking rainwater. It slowly falls onto my umbrella, and every time it touches it makes a tapping sound. There are thousands of taps. I grip my umbrella, trying not to get mad at the rain that's been falling everyday. No one knows when it started, no one knows when it will stop, if it ever does.  

My shoes silently hit the concrete that is slowly weathering away. Light from the streetlights bounce off of the shimmering sidewalk. The brightest light is in-front of me. I stop and stare at the bright white glow coming from a particular store. The old stamp store full of dull bluish greens and gray filing cabinets has moved out and has not left a single dull part of it. Instead, the sign says 'Heartfelt Lemonade'.

I've never been inside before. Mostly for 2 reasons. 1: My best friend Gray says that the storekeeper is ugly and judges you for everything you do. Plus she is really mean and the worst at everything. He also tells me that he finds eyelashes in his lemonade all the time. 2: Heartfelt Lemonade is run by the Heartfelias. My families enemies. Or at least what I have left of a family. 

It has been said that my uncle Guildarts once loved a maiden named Layla. Layla was everything to him and he loved her very much. Then she betrayed him by dating another man. Cheating. When she had to chose between the two, she chose Jude Heartfelia. My uncle was devastated and said that he would hate Layla and her family until he dies. So he doesn't even walk down the street. 

That's why everyday I pass the store without a glance. 

I walk by it in complete silence, then walk home through the rain. I turn right and into an alleyway, then walk up the metal stairs on the side of a building and unlock the door to see my  musty, damp apartment. A straggly kitten that was dyed blue and that I had found last weekend in a trash bin rubs up against my legs. I still hadn't named it yet. 

I look over to the couch were my uncle is sleeping, then up, only to find the ripped photographs of my parents that I had taped up 4 years ago. I can still remember how the apartment felt. Brand new carpet that felt amazing on your feet, bright cream-colored lights glowed on the ceilings, beautiful patterned wallpaper lined the walls, dark oak furniture gleamed with polish, and my 14-year old self was glowing with a smile. 

But now the carpet is flattened and disgusting, the power plant took away the lighting because of my lack of money, the wallpaper is faded and old, the wooden furniture is chipped and has all sorts of grime on it, and I am depressed with a frown. 

My parents died 3 years ago. I can still see the blood stains on the wall. And I think to myself how I couldn't pay for the investigators to see who sneaked into the apartment in the middle of the night, and shot them. And how they protected me behind them, so I could continue living. It hurts to think about that. 

I set down my camera and collapse into the faded, green felt chair. My book sits on the little table next to my chair and my clothes and belongings sit inside a tiny drawer below the surface of the table. If I could round up everything that I own, I could say 1 pair of shoes from 8th grade that are almost busting out of the seams and make my feet ache, 2 pairs of smelly socks, 2 shirts, 1 pair of jeans that have lots of holes in them, and a note from my parents for my 15th birthday. 

I had read the note over and over again, and always wondered the same things. I got it out of my drawer and read it over again to comfort me. 

Dear my precious Natsu, 

Happy fifteenth birthday! I would have never thought you would have grown so much! Anyway, we have an awesome birthday gift for you! Just close your eyes and then walk into the kitchen.

I remember I did, then I was overcome with happiness. There on the table was a brand new camera. It had a bunch of film  sticking out from it, and I picked it up with big eyes. "Thank you so much mom and dad!" The night of my wonderful day, they were killed. And it hurt.