There was old cigarette ash burned into the carpet. In. Every. Room. Even the girl's bedroom, which smelled like perfume and French spices. There must be a lot of stress in this family.
They've tried to cover it with a rug only to have the rug coated in the stuff as well. It's permentantly stained. Like the edges of a heart I once knew. My mother. I barely know the woman anymore. No. I can't discuss this.
I wanted to go find Foster, to see if we were friends. It'd been killing me, not knowing. I kind of wanted a popular mysterious friend like him. Who was adoringly handsome and mischevious and trouble-making so maybe this could be my adventure. I wanted to have a highschool story to tell my children, "I befriended the most beautiful reckless boy you could ever meet and then..."
And then...
"Noel, have you seen Foster?"
She face shifted grimmly, "He's outside..."
"Ok-"
She took my shoulder slowly, "But I wouldn't, Darling, he's on the phone with his father."
So I had a mother problem and he, a father problem.
I questioned myself a few times before the house door clicked shut and Foster saw me, his dark eyes burning right thorugh my lies that held the universe and everything else. He had his phone at a wierd angle on the concrete of the porch and a gun pointed at his temple.
"F-Foster... what.."
"Darla, it isn't.."
"Did I just.."
It seems that neither one of us could finish a sentence. He dropped the gun, it made a clattering noise that was so distant to me right then. I had just walked in on a suicide.
He said, "My dad, he, he.."
"I don't.. why."
He patted the concrete next to him for me to come sit. His thigh dug into my thigh. My breathing was heavy. His was light. Oh so light. We sat in a sappy silence and then it was, "Don't tell." Then I cried. My makeup came off in my tears and that turned them black.
"Darling, don't cry for me, you'll ruin your cheeks," He offered a small sad smile.
I tried to talk, but choked on the words.
"You tried to die, Foster. To die. That's not okay."
He just kept smiling smally and it was the saddest thing. He put his arms lightly around me and I put my head right on his heart, to assure myself that he was still here. That he didn't kill himself. That he was still here and human and tangible to me.
"You're a good person, Foster," My words mixed into his shirt, "And you're alive and deserve to be alive and I love you for that."
YOU ARE READING
Darling & Foster
Teen Fiction"I would kill to be skinny," She would always cross her arms and say. So she did what she said, she went killing, but the only person she was killing, was herself. //COMPLETED//
