Rough Road Ahead (In Progress)

Chapter 2

           

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            My father's job called for him to move all over the country, usually it was just him that went alone for a week or two. This meant that the rest of us never had the privilege of tagging along for the insanely boring task of sitting in a car for ages with nothing to do but socialize. I concluded that was the therapist's ploy - to force family time on us by handcuffing us to one another for a week.

            There was a small town that had been assembled a few miles from our house. The thing that made this town special was that it was like Frankenstein - it was made up of houses, hospitals and schools from all over the country. They were all ancient and had historical significance from various time periods.

            The problem with old things is that people are constantly trying to improve on them. Trying to make them better and that meant tearing it all down. People would rather rebuild something than spend the time and money to renovate the pluming, knob and tube electrical and Ephesus infested drywall. A lot of the time, builders want the land at any cost, even if that house is from the 1700's. They want the land, but people don't want their history totally demolished. That's where my father comes in.

            His job is to move the structure from point A to point B where people from all over can come to enjoy its rich history. He was the one that invented the idea and since then, has made millions off emission prices and countless gift shops that litter the entire exterior of the park. People eat it up.

            This week it was an old farmhouse up in the Mountains that my father had to disassemble and then reassemble a few hundred miles away. You may ask, 'why is this farm house so important?' Well, I'll give you the short answer: it's not. The only thing that makes this farmhouse worth the drive is that it's built on top of what was the most profitable gold mine. That name was given to it 50 years ago and since then it was totally mined out. This farm house was built on top to cover the entrance to the mine. Now, like always, contractors want to rip it all down and pave it over so they can build a shopping mall.

            "Come on, pack up." My father called from the trailer as he honked the horn a few times. The sound moving into my room and echoing off the walls, amplifying it.

            With a swift roll of my eyes I threw an assortment of tank tops and some black tights into my suitcase. My ears picked up on Brad in his bedroom belting out random curse words as he spoke on the phone with one of his friends.

             Lustfully I hoped that he would move out, but I also knew that he was too childish to take care of himself. He was too self-centered and wanton to let our mother get the satisfaction of him packing his bags. We all knew what would happen; he would move to a friend's house only to move back home a week later, pleading for our parents to forgive his immaturity. Making false promises that he would never deliver on.

            My dad honked the horn again so I zipped up my suitcase before checking myself out in the full length mirror that was nailed to back of my door. My skin was so pale. I should have stayed out in the sun more often during the summer, but it was autumn, and soon enough winter so I had lost my chance a long time ago.

            My outfit was the same as always, a tank with tights that read TNA on the back. I had learned that it was easier to get dressed in the morning when all your clothes looked the same, and I guessed that was why some schools choose to have uniforms.