All Of Me

5

That night, I thanked Tripp for the ride..well..rides, and walked in the house, immediately taking off my heels and making a mental note to never wear heels to work again. Not that I could really be blamed, I had no idea the woman would hire me on the spot.

But Carol was so sweet, and so was Carly, the other girl that worked there. Even though her hard exterior would lead you to beleive otherwise. She was quite funny, and talked a lot about bands.

I walk up the stairs and knocked softly on my mother's door. "Come in," Her soft voice called. I opened the door and walked inside, finding my mother sitting in the middle of her bed surrounded by paperwork. She was a writer, and when she wasn't at work, she was sitting right there, working on her latest novel.

For as long as I can remember, I've walked in my mother's bedroom and seen her sitting just like this.

She motioned for me to come over and I sat down on the edge of her bed. "How was your first day?" She asked as she pushed her reading glasses up on her nose further and flipped through a Manila folder.

I nodded, "It was pretty good. My co-worker is a little strange..." I rub my neck, remembering how she talked about her pet lizard and her boyfriend, Riley.

At my mother's questioning eyes over the rim of her glasses, I go on to tell my mother about Carly and her strangeness.

"Brian is taking me out tomorrow. So I won't be home until later." She informs me when my story is over. I roll my eyes and start to tell her what a tightwad her is, until my phone begins to buzz in the pocket of my apron. I get up to walk out and hear my mother say, "Nice apron." I roll my eyes again and leave the room, answering the phone.

Paige.

I hesitantly answer and she orders me to come to her room. I roll my eyes at her laziness and make my way to her bedroom where she is on the edge of her bed, looking through photo albums.

I sit down on the bed beside her and pull my foot up to rub the day out of it.

I spent most of the day walking around the cafe barefoot. Which I think was worse than the heels.

Ouch my ankles.

"Will it ever get better?" Her voice breaks me out of my self-pity.

"What do you mean?" I ask as I glance over her shoulder and see an old family photo album. Pictures of us and our parents. Not too long before the accident.

I swallow as I feel the tears start to burn. "I doubt it." I answer honestly. How does it ever get easier living without on of your parents?

I was close to my father, but I've always been closer to my mother. Paige however, was Dad's shadow. And she was only 13 when he was k-, when he passed.

I wrapped my arms around her and rested my head on her shoulder, looking at the pictures as she turned the pages.

If you smelt Paige, you would smell alcohol. However, I smell pain.

Pain from having her father so violently snatched away from her at such a young age. Shuttled off to a new state where she knew no one, and having a new man thrown into her life that had nothing to do with her.

I handled my grief right away. I signed up for grief counselling at our new school, which I'll graduate from in two weeks, and I started to do a lot better. I met Tripp, and he helped, since his father also passed away when he was young.

Paige however stored it away. She lived in denial for two years until finally she came to terms with it. Not in a good way. In her eyes, our father killed himself.

Which technically he did, but instead of releasing the pain, she held onto the fact that he left her. That he made a conscious decision to drink and then drive, and she caused herself even more heartache.

So now Paige stays drunk, and out with her friends. Claiming that she's having a good time, when in reality I know she's just trying to drown it out. The pain and loss. Instead of facing it head on for what it is.

I held her until her sobs ceased and she fell asleep in my arms. Paige pretends to be so strong; like she's got it together. With her skimpy outfits, her platinum hair, and make up. Even this mystery boyfriend I know leaves all these marks on her.

But when she's asleep like this, her lips still part slightly like they always have. Her eyelashes flutter, and she curls up in a ball under her blankets. She's still 13. Missing her Daddy.

Sometimes I wonder what Dad would do if he were here. Things would be so different.