Cherry; Harry Styles

6%

♪BLACKBIRD - THE BEATLES♪

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Della.

TWO DAYS BEFORE.

The sun poured down like honey on my skin as I stroll down the steep hill of Deven's neighbourhood. A German Shepard sits behind a fence, barking at me as I pass by. The dog eventually stops barking once I'm a few houses down. It's quiet. The morning breeze cools down my skin, as the cicadas sing good morning. I reminisce on the previous conversations Harry and I had. It was refreshing to talk to someone who knew nothing about my life or who I was. That's what drew me to him. He knew so little.

I hum my new favourite melody that Harry sang to me, feeling a sensation of pure happiness. I'm about a block away from home. The houses that line my street belong to mostly elderly couples or widows. There were rarely young couples or new families. We were one of the only homes with a teen or child. My street is dead this morning. Most of the elders aren't up until the afternoon, while others are likely up watering their orchids and camellias. I imagine how alive it must make them feel, to do something other than reading newspapers and watch television. The thought of growing old, getting weaker and lonelier each day was daunting. You deteriorate in a house you used to feel so alive in. That was certainly not in the charts for me. Fifty would be my cut off age I decided.

As I trudged up the driveway, something felt off. I hug the brown paper bag filled with goodies tightly. I was supposed to bring Gee this yesterday. The bag became heavier and heavier as I got closer and closer to the house. It made me eager to get inside faster. As I walk up the porch steps, I am frightened to see that the front door is slightly open.

I hear muffled sounds of someone screaming, which triggers me to rush inside. I panic, not knowing the situation. This could be a robbery or even worse. As I push the front door, I recognize the voice that belts out in a wave of anguish. A sting in my heart stops me in my tracks. Mama. I drop the paper bag of treats on a wooden step that leads upstairs. The bag lands awkwardly, but I don't bother checking if the Gran's order survived the fall. My feet glide across the polished dark wood as I stagger towards the back wing of the house. 

Her cries can be heard clearer now as I discreetly slip into the living room. My eyes could fall out of their sockets any second now. My mother sits on the rug before our couch, surrounded by broken glass and a piece of paper. Gee carefully picks up the pieces of shattered glass as mom gulps down red wine. I am frozen. She had relapsed right before my eyes. Everything suddenly becomes blurred by the water that pools my eye sockets.

I rub my eyes hastily when I am reminded of Caleb. I look around the room for the curly-headed boy because I refuse he sees mom like this. My eyes scan the entire room, spotting him peaking through the kitchen doorway. I scramble over to the door, grabbing his shoulders once I reach him. I force him into the kitchen, dropping down on my knees to be at face level with him. His eyes well up with tears I failed to stop from falling. I study his disoriented expression, which creates an indescribable burning pain in my chest.

"Go upstairs, close your door, and don't come out until I tell you to," I instruct, sternly. A tear rolls down his cheek, and I instantly pull him in by the back of his head for a tight embrace. He rests his face into the crook of my neck, and his tears roll down my throat as he weeps.

"Ok?" I question, snapping back into reality. I pull away, looking directly into his eyes. He simply nods, wiping away tears from his eyes.

I stand up on my two feet and watch as he dashes out of the kitchen into the main entrance. I sigh, wiping away the tears that escaped my eyes. I inhale and exhale, trying to calm down quickly. This was all so overwhelming. Everything was spinning. I steady my breathing and reenter the living room.