Suite 103. (COMPLETED)

1. Moving Day

This story is one of the most different stories I've everrrrr written. and with this I hope to grow as a writer. I hope y'all join in this journey with me, because it'll be so worth it in the end. Vote, comment, and tell me your thoughts so far. ALSO, I just have to warn you guys on how perfect the girl I used as Nia is. She's in the multimedia. Okay, I'm done now.

- Keiana

1. Moving Day

Nia Riley

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They say when you graduate from high school, you won't know half of the people that you believed were your friends. When you go to college, that's when you meet the people who're gonna be in your life for the duration of it. When I went to college I met my best friend Claire, an up and coming makeup artist. She was my dorm mate, and in time she became my sister, mother, best friend, and confidant. I had changed my major, gone on so many failed dates, had countless anxiety attacks, and Claire James was there for every single one.

Claire was my best friend, and it showed when she went through my mother's death with me. My mother Seyvn, had alzheimer's, but it was an uncommon case because she was only forty when she got it. By the time my mother was forty five she couldn't even remember that I was her daughter, and my father Bernard, was her husband. I was only fourteen when my mother, father, and my mom's doctor had sat me down and told me about my mom's condition. At first I didn't understand until my mom didn't remember where her apron was. It was right on her the whole time. She cussed, threw a fit, and ended up falling asleep crying in my lap. I wanted to cry so badly, but I knew that I couldn't do that in front of my mom.

After that first incident things continued to go downhill. First it was the apron, then it was the days of the week, and soon it progressed to her forgetting where she was. When I went off to college it was a major relief for me. I didn't have to worry about seeing my mother forget everything about her life. I still talked to her daily, and it broke my heart everytime when I called her and she didn't know who I was.

As I went through getting my associates in business, my mother was going through losing her mind. Every weekend I would go back home and help take care of my mom. Sometimes she would even remember my name, and that made everything worth it.

One day we were painting at the kitchen table, I was eighteen if I remember correctly, and Beyonce was playing. My mom loved Beyonce, and sometimes she even remembered the words. I was cleaning up our materials when my mom had told me, "I like your painting Nia." I had dropped all the bowls and brushes on the floor because I was in so much shock. My mother hadn't remembered my name in two years, and she said it like it was nothing!

"Mom, you just said my name!" I exclaimed and ran over to her, wrapping her in a tight hug.

"Who're you?" My mom asked and I let go of my mom and went back to cleaning like nothing had happened. As soon as I finished cleaning I went back to my dorm room and cried with Claire for the rest of the night. After that I realized that my mother was going to remember and forget all the time, and there was really no point in crying about it.

It was still a surprise to me when my mother passed away at the young age of forty eight. I say passed away because it's more accurate than committed suicide. My mother had been put on a medication that helped her remember, but also made her extremely depressed. My father had come home from work one morning to find my mother hanging on the ceiling by a thin piece of rope. God knows how long she had been there like that. I didn't like to think about it.

That whole month after my mother passed away I was an emotional wreck. I didn't eat, go to my classes, and I changed my major over three times. After finally being pushed by Claire to, and I quote, "Get my fucking ass up and live my life, and stop acting like a fucking zombie," I cut my hair, grew it back out, got a bunch of meaningful tattoos, had a bunch of meaningless, sloppy, drunk sex, and changed my major to child development in honor of my mother. She was a teacher, and always had a sore spot for children.