This is a short story, i’ve been working on. i’ll post this first part and the second part next week. and so on. enjoy!
Like most kids nowadays I have never been camping. My family moved to Fort Collins, Colorado a few days ago from Chicago. When we first moved here; I wasn’t exactly in the best mood about it. Leaving all my friends and the rest of my family to move to this place? As soon as I stepped out of the car I almost gagged. “There’s no air!” I yelled to my dad, who was walking around smiling his fucking head off. “Calm down, Marshall; the air’s just thinner up here. You’ll adjust.” That’s my dad, always looking out for me. You could ask what my mom thought about this, but my mom isn’t here. In fact she hasn’t been around these past few years ever since my parents split up. We used to have that nice “picture perfect” family everyone used to laugh and yearn for. But that was just was my public family; the family everyone thought we were.
They fought a lot, most of the time about me. They never told me that, but I knew. Anyway that wasn’t really the whole reason they split up. I had come home from school and went to check on my mom. She had been sick recently and had been staying home. Well, when I opened the door she seemed to be feeling better; especially with the guy in her bed that wasn’t my dad. To make a long story short; she saw me, tried to explain, and cried in the bathroom for a few hours. Dinner that night was anything but decent. My mom stared at her plate the whole time, eyes puffy red. I kind of sat there in a daze, not really knowing what to do. And then I remembered my dad; he didn’t even know yet. I couldn’t take it, so I excused myself from the table. I gave her a look that I kind of regret now; the kind of hateful look that can break down a person.
I didn’t wait for her to say anything, I didn’t want to see my dad’s reaction, I didn’t want to see or hear anything. It was only six forty five at night, but I crawled into bed anyway. It wasn’t long before the shouting started. I didn’t move; I didn’t blink. It wasn’t until I heard the smashing that I remembered to breath. They had fought and thrown things at each other; shouting out incoherent words. Eventually my dad stormed out, driving to God knows where. I’m not sure what went through her head at the time, but she started cleaning. Maybe a physical therapy for what had happened? I don’t know. She was gone the next morning, and I haven’t seen her since.