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IT'S HARD TO REMEMBER A LIFE OUTSIDE OF CHAMBERLAIN, MAINE. We'd moved when I was young, maybe three or four, young enough that my sense of memory hadn't fully developed and things like where I lived before Chamberlain could fade away until it was no more.
One thing I do remember about my life outside of Chamberlain is my mother. A woman who was given too much responsibility before she was ready to handle it. While my father was well into his twenties at the time of my birth Caroline, my mother, was fresh out of high school and to most still a child. Granted this was a time when age difference really didn't play a big role.
I can't fully blame her for not being what I needed. After all, she was still a child herself. However, it was by her choice that she chose drugs over me. From the stories I've been told, my father tried to be there to help her raise me. Even though the two could hardly stand each other he was willing to deal with her for my well-being though that all went to shit when Caroline let me fall.
Imagine it. A cranky toddler sitting in her unsecured high chair. Bouncing around and throwing a fit while her mother lay passed out on the couch, the cigarette between her fingers still burning. You can guess what happened next. And if not, I fell. Backwards, hitting my head against the dirty kitchen tile.
That was the last straw for the one adult I could trust, and soon we were up and away to Maine. Where I've called home for about fourteen years.
Pouring the remaining bit of coffee into a mug I grabbed my bag throwing it over my shoulder before heading down the hallway past the many photos of my father and I and into the spare bedroom he'd turned into an office. It'd become a somewhat tradition for me to bring my overworking father a cup of coffee and a kiss on the cheek before heading to school.
Placing the mug down and kissing his cheek covered in stubble I exited back out and grabbed my key locking the door as I left.
Looking across the street, the red car I'd come to recognize after so many years sat still in the driveway. Usually the White's were gone before I finished my breakfast. However today they weren't, Margaret coming out with Carrie right behind her just as I reached my truck. Part of me wanted to turn and wave, or call out "hey" or "good morning". But Margaret White scared me and seeing Carrie would only bring back memories.
So instead I hopped into my truck, turned the radio on and sped down the street. Looking in the mirror Carrie stood there getting smaller the farther I got and suddenly I wanted to cry.
