My Record Store Romance

The Sounds of Sadness, Bad Dreams and Our First Customer

Chapter 8;

The Sounds of Sadness, Bad Dreams and Our First Customer?

night update ftw

And you guys, MRSR went from 190 reads to over 550 in like 2 days!?!? That's insane! Thank you guys so much

dedicated to promethean for my amazing new cover

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I couldn't stop the memories, they flooded back into my mind like poison. I knew I couldn't go on forever without thinking about it.

About what my dad had done to me, done to us.

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It had been Summer time.

I was fourteen, in that awkward stage where my haircut was stupid and my shoulders were too round.

I remembered how hot it was that day, the feeling of my clothes clinging to my body, the feeling of the sheer line of sweat that kept reproducing across my forehead. It must have been nearly 110 degrees outside, one of the hottest days of the season.

My mom was laughing as we pulled into the parking lot, returning from a trip to the community pool. I was sitting in the passenger seat with the pool bag on my lap as she bobbed her head to the music on the radio. I can't remember the last time she had laughed like that, even though once it had been so natural.

I laughed along with her as she pulled the keys from the ignition, and the rumbling car turned quiet. We jumped out quickly, her helping me as I hobbled out of my seat with the overfilled pool bag.

"So what do you think dad made us for lunch?" I asked, shutting the car door with my hip.

My dad was a professional chef, culinary school graduate, the whole nine yards. He knew everything you could ever think possible about cooking, and he made a huge deal about the three meals a day thing. So, before we left, he had promised to make us a big special lunch that would be ready when we returned. Nothing unusual, he normally did that sort of a thing on a daily basis, because that's just who he was. I even planned on maybe becoming a chef when I was older too, just like he had. But those were just all faded dreams now.

"I don't know, maybe some fruit salad or something." My mom wiggled her eyebrows at me and smiled. We walked slowly up the pathway to the door, her sandals making a slight clicking noise with each step.

My mouth salivated at the thought of my dad's fruit salad, it's sweet juice oozing out onto my tongue. I suddenly grew impatient as my mom fished through her purse, looking for her keys.

"Mommmmm," I said, tugging the pool bag back up to my shoulder and tapping my foot. I was quite an impatient fourteen year old.

Finally, she found her keys at the bottom of her purse. She yanked them out and held them above her head like a prize. "AH HA!" she exclaimed, a toothy grin forming on her face.

She unlocked the door and once the knob turned, we pushed inside as fast as we could. We had been expecting fruit salad or sandwiches or smoothies, but definitely not this.

Me and my mom stood in the doorway, and I lost all the feeling in my limbs. My mom's keys clanged against the floor at the same moment I dropped the pool bag, and I heard a quick gasp from beside me.

I was so overwhelmed with betrayal, with hate. It seeped into my skin, festered throughout my body as my mouth hung open. I hated him, I hated him. It was funny how your whole life could change, in only a moment.

My dad's eyes bulged out of his head as he pushed away from the woman he had just been lip-locking with.

My mom was the first to speak up. "J-John, how could you?" when I turned to face her, I could see the tears that began to well up in her eyes.