Straight To You

one

Most people say change is for the better, but I highly disagree.

My life has changed drastically multiple times in the short seventeen years I've been alive, but that doesn't mean my life has improved any. In fact, I'm willing to bet that the only change I've witnessed in my lifetime were downgrades. Looking back on everything that has happened recently only makes me more sure of this thought, and this only puts a damper on my already terrible mood.

As these thoughts pass through my head, I'm watching my life change once again from the passenger side of my dad's Buick SUV. Staring out the window, I watch as my past drifts away until I'm left looking at my future, not liking what I'm seeing.

Mostly, I'm seeing fields. Lots and lots of fields.

"I know it's not ideal," my dad says, turning to me with an expression of understanding on his face. Only, he doesn't understand. How could he? He is the person who changes everything; I am the one left having to adapt to those changes.

"But it's for the best," he finishes, staring ahead at the road that gives way to more fields.

I want to tell him that he's wrong, but I don't. I keep my thoughts to myself. There's no point in arguing now. We're already miles away from home. He doesn't have to tell me that there's no turning back for me to know that it's true.

"Mom would never make me do this," I mumble under my breath. I shouldn't have said the words, I know, but it's not like I can take them back. That's the thing about words: they are always there. We speak them every day. Even when we are silent, we're hearing words roam through our heads in the form of thoughts. Somehow I know that the words I just spoke will be stuck in my father's mind for days, torturing him in ways no physical wound ever could.

I can't take them back, I think again. I wish I could take them back.

"Well." Dad's voice is strained and I can tell by how stiff his muscles are that he's holding back tears. "She's not here, now is she?"

I don't know if he meant the words to hurt me, but they do. I know deep down that he would never purposefully try to hurt me by rubbing Mom's absence in my face, but I can't stop the pain that bubbles in my chest at his words either way. He's right. She's not here. She's not in this car with us. She's not back home. She's not going to be wherever it is we're going. She's not going to be a part of the future because she will forever be stuck in the past.

"You don't get it," I spit, running off of grief and anger and pain. "That town was all I had left of her, and you just took it away!" My voice cracks, but I don't care. I'm on the verge of tears as I whisper, "She's not coming back."

I've known this for a while now, of course, but it's only just began to set in. I can't recall how many times I've asked my father that very question. All I can recall is the question changing to a statement.

She's not coming back.

"I know, kiddo," Dad says, voice cracking. He turns those shattered blue eyes of his on me and I have to look away, afraid of drowning is his pools of sadness. "I know."

He doesn't elaborate. He doesn't have to. If I say another word I'll start crying, and I know my dad feels the same way. I guess that's why we sit in silence, dad staring at the road and me watching the fields fly past through the window, wondering when everything in my life became so messed up.

• • •

I found out Mom was pregnant on my tenth birthday.

I still remember the day like it was yesterday. All of my memories of Mom are still clear like I just lived them. Maybe that's because the memories are all that is left. I wish I had something tangible of her, something to hold and touch and know it was hers. Unfortunately, I just have the memories. As I get older they begin to fade, like a marker slowly losing its color. I try to hold on to them as long as I can, playing them over like a movie in my mind that exists only to remind me of all that I have lost.

The news of Mom's pregnancy was the best present I got that day. I had always wanted a sibling. I didn't care that I was going to be ten years older. I already loved that baby like it was my own.

I can still see the expression my dad wore on his face when Mom told us. Shocked and excited, the kind of expression one wears when they are truly happy about something. He kept asking Mom if she was serious and every time he asked she would nod, tears streaming down her cheeks and laughs escaping her lips. I remember the tenderness my dad used when he pulled my mom into his arms, kissing her in a way that told me he didn't love anyone in the whole world as much as he loved my mother.

I didn't know why they were so excited about having another child until I was older. My mom had had some complications when she was pregnant with me, and her doctor had told her that she most likely wouldn't be able to have any more children. My mom getting pregnant for a second time was like a miracle.

We didn't just celebrate my birthday that night. We celebrated the new addition to our family. Love is a powerful thing, and the amount of love we all felt for the tiny creature who was going to join our small family was so strong it could have stopped any force of evil that blocked our path. Indestructible. Our love was indestructible.

Mom glowed that night. Her golden hair was pulled up into a bun and her hazel eyes shone with happiness. She looked so . . . full of joy. So young. Immortal, I guess.

I should have known then that nothing is immortal.

Nothing lasts forever.

a/n: here's part one! i know that i need to go back and edit some, so if there are any mistakes please ignore them. i'll fix it,
i swear! thanks for reading :) ♡