Love is a Trial

Chapter One

I never imagined coming back here, after so many years the smiles on their faces were not of just love but of grief. It was as if I was the one who had died. I dragged my old brown suitcase beside me, the wheels bumping on the cobble stones of my old house. It no longer felt like a home to me, I guess it hadn’t in years. Instead of a rusty lawn mower sitting beside the garage, there was a bright orange electric one. I averted my eyes and walked up the path following behind my mother who was carrying a child and chattering away about something that someone had done last week. I wasn’t about to ask her about it, because I no longer knew about the people here in Birmingham, and I’m sure they had forgotten about me six years ago. My mother showed me to my old room and for the first time since my plane had landed from New York I felt like I had walked back into my old life. It seemed as if time had wound back 6 years, to when my world fell apart.

“Adelaide!” I turned to the voice coming from my doorway, there where my father would have stood, Mark grinned and moved towards me stepping into what seemed to be a time capsule.
“How are you, it’s been so long,” I stood ridged as he engulfed me into a hug. I was uncomfortable to say the least, I mean Mark was nice enough, he was my Mum’s best guy friend for so long, I suppose it was inevitable. 
“I’ve been great,” I say weakly, prying him off of me. “I hear you’re a hot shot lawyer now, living it up in New York!” He grinned and I smiled back.
“Yes, I’m working in a firm as a junior partner,” I smiled proudly at my accomplishment, how far I had come from a lowly university student working in an old record shop. “And how about a boyfriend?” He pried, and my smile faltered. “I’m afraid when you working as much as I am, ‘boys’ don’t want to stick around.”

A young girl who couldn’t have been much over 4, came running down the hall, when she noticed me she hid behind Marks leg. “Daddy, it’s lunch time!” She yelled then ran off again forgetting that I was there in the first place. Mark nodded and walked off towards the kitchen, I fully intended at following him, but I couldn’t help myself. I turned and took in my single bed with an old tartan spread one that I insisted on since I was little because it looked like it was from another time, another story, one that was not my own. I moved over to my desk and ran my fingers over the diary and planner, of all the notes I wrote on how I would spend my future. I saved this for last, as if the longer I waited the more likely what I was thinking would be true. I lifted my eyes from the floor to the window, I looked the window opposite mine, where blue and green curtains used to hang. I shook my head, removing any thought of him out of my head, it had been six years, there was no way that he would have frozen in time just like my room had. I stared a little harder as if to find any memory of him, but there were no longer posters of Arctic Monkeys or AC/DC, instead there were little plastic aeroplanes and cars strewn all over the floor. At least somethings don’t change, I smiled looking at the plastic holder on the side of the house, where he had put a different coloured piece of paper in it to show whether he was home or not. One thing I’d come to realise through grief is that we always have memories, despite them fading some always remain.

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