Scared Him Away (Completed)

The Paint Mark

The next day, I decided to head to the small coffee shop at the corner of our street. That way I could read one of the books I just bought yesterday, have breakfast at one of my favorite places, and have some escape time from my parents, my mom specifically, my dad is never home anyway, and if he is, it is just at dinner and then we all go to sleep. And it is at times like this that I wonder: why is not my mom a working one? It would have saved me and her a lot of trouble really.

I walk out and enjoy the soft breeze of the early summer morning, savoring its feel as very few summer days are left with school closing in. I don't even want my mind to wander there, one of the territories I'd rather not dwell about.

I push the door open and sit at a far away table near the big glass windows so I could feel the sun on my skin. I know very well that I am not supposed to stay in the sun for long, especially today as I forgot to put sunscreen. I am not an albino but my skin is pretty sensitive and with the prolonged exposure to the sun I not only turn red but my freckles tend to multiply. But, what can I do? I love the sun!

A waitress takes my order, who is about my age and which got me thinking...why don't I apply for a job? I don't need it, not because my parents are super rich, we are actually moderate people and I am a girl with limited needs, which kind of balances things out, but it will give me an excuse to go out more, away from my mom's judgmental eyes and to keep my mind of "things". I will keep that thought in mind and maybe think about that later.

I ate my food, read a bit and when the shop started to get a little too crowded and noisy, I knew that that was my cue. I left and took the long way back home.

I was walking in peace, not so many cars on the road yet, until I felt that queasy feeling you get when you think that someone is watching you. I turned around but saw no one there. Suspicious? Maybe. But I have always been a little bit too paranoid, one of my traits the he used to make fun off, he used to call me "too jumpy". I smiled at the name, shook off the feeling and just continued walking.

I looked to my right out of habit and saw the "movie store", a small place where you could find every, and I really mean every movie you want: old, new. On any medium you want: CDs, VCR tapes, USBs, just name it! This is where I always go to rent a movie for our "movie nights" on weekends. Looking at it made that nostalgic feeling come again but I brushed it off and resumed walking.

I reached my home and my mom was nowhere to be found, probably at one of her "tea parties". I didn't want to lift my hopes up yet, so I went to check the fridge's door for any notes. And surely there was one yellow Post-it stuck there saying in my mom's neat, cursive handwriting: "Out with friends, won't be there for lunch, and neither will your father, don't wait for us, will be back at 9"

I snatched the paper and threw it in the trashcan, meanwhile doing a happy dance. I didn't even care when I realized she didn't say "Oh, got some food ready for you in the fridge, heat it when you get hungry" like a normal mother would do. But I am used to it, I will just order pizza. And my parents are gone until dinner so what is there more to ask for?!

I decided on spending the day watching some movies, so I placed a popcorn bag in the microwave and head back into the living room towards the cupboard on the back wall with all the DVDs. I looked through, and settled on watching Monsters Inc. -yes an animation, but what can I say, this thing never gets old-Titanic and Entrapment. I knew none of them are new but these are one of my favorite movies, and they will do for now, waste a few hours and if I finish them before 9 then I can just go back to reading that book I started in the morning.

I heard the microwave's alarm and retrieved my popcorn in a big bowl with some juice, ready for the first movie night on my own. I went around the couch to sit on it, passing my hand over the back of it until I felt a different texture than the couch's soft satin feel beneath my fingers. I looked down and saw that white paint mark that I forgot about its existence, the mark that the couch gained in a day like this...on one of our movies nights. I felt a sudden rush of emotions enveloping me with the memory that materialized in front my very eyes...