Short Stories To Entertain the Intricate Human Mind

Elena Hux

I was an only child my entire life. My mother had me at the age of 16, and my birth father had abandoned us both after his parents insisted my mother ruined his life.

My mother found my stepdad while she was working at an old run down diner called Olivia's Oasis. I was four by then, my mother was 20.

Jimmy and a couple of his friends came in one night while my mother was bartending, and I was sipping on my Oreo shake on the edge of the bar.

Jimmy tells me now that he fell in love with my mother the minute he saw her. I doubt it. My mother is beautiful, but she'd been on her feet all day, sweating behind a hot bar with no break for the last several hours, not to mention her smelly work uniform and greasy hair.

Jimmy came back once, twice, sometimes three times a week just to talk to my mom. She said he was the clumsiest, silliest man she'd ever met, but over time fell in love as well.

Fast forward three years, they were married, with me as their stunning flower girl. I remember the dress, a white babydoll type that rose just above my ankles, so you could see ballet slippers underneath. Rosey flower-shaped lace was beautifully sewn to match the pink tulip petals I would be scattering on the ground.

I was happy. I started calling Jimmy my dad, with no thoughts about the man who'd abandoned me. Sometimes I forget that he's not my real dad, and I like it that way.

At 15 years old, eight years into their marriage, my mother and father sat me down. Both had cheerful grins on their faces, and I thought we were going to Disneyland.

"I'm pregnant!"

I can't recall what happened after that. I think I was in shock. Both of my parents were overjoyed, and didn't seem to notice my disbelief. I think I remember pretending to be happy, while all I wanted to do was cry. I felt so betrayed, after all, I was 15! In three years I'd be off to college, and my parents would be traveling, spending their years as a couple who's children were gone should be. Why would they throw that all away?

Several weeks after the baby had been born, (my little brother) I came home to find the baby's crib in my bedroom, my computer and books nowhere to be seen. I remember screaming, rushing downstairs, confronting my mother while she was nursing.

"The crib couldn't fit in our room, we thought you wouldn't mind!" My mother insisted, brushing off all my concern.

"Of course I mind! I don't want this stupid baby anyway, now it has to stay in my bedroom?" I screamed, just about ready to take a sledgehammer to the crib.

"Don't speak to your mother like that! If I hear you say anything else like that about my son, your grounded." Jimmy raised his voice, paternal the first time I could remember.

The words stung. His son? Couldn't have just used his name? No, because you weren't his daughter.

"Fine, then I'll call my dad, and go with him. I hate you both!" I yelled, racing back up to my room, emptying out my backpack and filling it with clothes, money, what little books I had. There wasn't much,

I left the house, running down the block and around the corner, ducking behind the neighbors fence and into their bushes. Mom had just gotten the car started, and Jimmy was running after me, but when he turned the corner, I had vanished from his sight. As I peered at him from the bushes, he looked genuinely scared for me.

My mom pulled up the car- I could see the baby in the backseat- and Jimmy got in. They drove off, so I turned in the opposite direction, heading to a run down playground that nobody ever uses. I used to, but I stopped the habit after the swings were removed.

Several hours pass by, and I just sit there, unsure of what to do. Eventually, I just call my grandparents, knowing they won't rat me out to my parents. They come to get me, and we take a ride in their car.

I tell them everything about how I felt, and maybe they understood.