My Soccer Boy

No Emotion

I woke up in the early morning, just as the sun was rising. My mom was still sleeping, and would be until around ten. Perfect time to go running! I changed into back and teal sports bra and matching black shorts. I pulled my hair into a high pony tail. I unlocked the door and stepped outside. It was cool and humid. It was nice. As I started to jog I went over different things in my mind. Well, not really all that different. I thought about Bryce. I wonder how much he runs. Could I be faster than him? I was the fastest girl on the team. I probably am faster than him. I smiled at the thought.

I hadn’t called Bryce to go running this morning, simply cause I needed this time to clear my mind. This boy made me crazy. Crazy mad. Crazy happy. Crazy, period. I needed time to be sane for once since school started.

I rounded the corner, picking up speed. I felt the slight burn in my calf from not running for the past few days. I turned onto the next street, running even faster. I inhaled deeply, smelling the rose garden in someone’s front yard. People were starting to wake up, and were walking outside in robes and pajamas getting their newspapers.

I waved to a few people as I passed.  As I rounded another corner I stopped to feel my pulse. Okay, I’m in the healthy range still. I jogged in place for a second trying to cool down a bit. I looked around and enjoying the view of the tall trees and flowers on this street. That’s when it hit me.

 I saw myself walking around a tree giggling. I was about 5. I was hiding from my dad as we played hide-and-seek. My head peaked from behind the tall oak tree, but I looked in the wrong direction, because I felt my dad pick me up from behind. I laughed harder as he tickled me.

I came back to reality, breathing hard and shaking. This happened every now and then. Images and memories of my father hitting me hard at random moments, and I hated it. I shook the dreadfully sweet images from my mind and started to jog back home.

~*~*~*~

I sat in a brightly colored room, in a comfy chair. The same room and chair that I’ve sat in every other Saturday since my father died. Dr. Peterson tapped her pencil on her note book. “Would you like to talk about anything today?” she asked.

“What’s there to talk about?” I asked.

“You know Summer, you’ll only come to terms with your father’s death if you let yourself feel something.”

I sat there silently. My expression didn’t change. It didn’t show any emotion. It never did when we spoke of this subject. I remembered when my mom had told me dad wasn’t coming home.

She had me sit at the table in the kitchen. She looked at me and gave me a sad smile. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, and I immediately knew something was wrong.

“Honey… Something happened yesterday… And… Well daddy won’t be coming home.” She said with a shaky voice.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

My mom took in a deep breath, trying hard to keep her composure. She grabbed my hand and looked me in the eyes. “Dad died yesterday.”

My hand went limp in hers and I stared at the wall in front of me. My face was blank, it held no emotion even as she told me how dad had died. I sat there for hours, just staring at the wall. I didn’t shed a tear, I didn’t cry out, I didn’t make a noise. I just sat there, numb. Inside I felt like I was being tortured. I was screaming in my mind. But yet I couldn’t bring myself to show any emotion to the world about my father’s death.

Just as I did then, I did now.

“Sweetie, why do you refuse to let yourself accept your fathers passing? Let yourself cry. It might make you feel better.” Dr. Peterson told me.

Everyone thought I had never cried. That I have yet to show any emotion since dad have died. Well their wrong. I did once. I had cried my eyes out, and sobbed uncontrollably. Only once. When I was with Bryce, that day on the field. That had to mean something…right?