Stitches | Nathan Prescott

4 | Different times

Everything changes for the better or for the worst...

          The date today is March 10, 2010. Four years has passed since the Prescott party was held. Nathan went back home to Oregon while I went home to Ulton, California. I would say that Ulton could be seen within the boundaries of that fine line between wealthy high class and average middle class. The city had great schools, a vibrant downtown, an athletic hiking trail, and bad ass food. That food being my dad's of course. He was a chef and owner of three restaurants. Two of them are located in the downtown and the other one is in Napa Valley, California. Ever since the party he has been getting a lot more business than usual. Instead of just being a local favorite he has been in food magazines and even a T.V. on the cooking channel. If I was able to see Nathan again I would thank him and his family, but that was something no seemed to do them. Apparently in their town they are not favored since they have been known for disasters, debt, and mind control. But those were just rumors I've heard from businessmen that associate with Mr. Prescott. All I wanted was to see Nathan again. He was actually a great person, well for an eleven year at least. He must be fourteen by now, like me, but I'll be a bit older than him by a few months. That is because my birthday is next month and he told me that his was in November, I think. My memory has not been that accurate since the last time we saw each other was in 2006.

          Growing up as a fourteen year old is tiresome and boring. I've already hit puberty and the other body changes. With that in mind, that means I already have to have T.O.M. (time of month) stick around until I'm like sixty and I sadly inherited my mom's C+ sized breasts. They were already showing off some cleavage, but luckily they were not C+ cups yet, just normal B. My personality and clothing choice changed since I was eleven. I have been liking the grunge look lately but the dial was not cranked up to a hundred percent. Instead I took a simplified version of the look. I loved wearing chokers and basic pieces such as solid colors in a dark shade. I really loved the colors burgundy and olive green, just not on my hair. I was able to color my hair metallic lilac. My parents let me since they know that it is just a phase and it won't stick around forever. I loved that about them.

          Unlike most high schools in California, mine valued the arts quite a lot. We had a very well known band, an exquisite cooking program, and a breathtaking center of the arts. I pursued both of my parents occupations at Ulton High: culinary and digital art. My mother was a small freelance artist back in 2001 and now she is a local celebrity and showcases her work in many small galleries across the west coast. That was how my mom worked, you see, she would strategically display her art at indie galleries so that the actual art fanatics will appear, along with the critics of course. I just loved how my mother was able to express herself through each piece and how that many people loved it all the same. While my father was a renowned chef and restaurant owner. He flew around the world to learn techniques from each country to small town. My father allowed me to accompany him on these "food hunts" when I turned twelve, and ever since I hoped to be able to go back to Oregon on one of these hunts. Sometimes the greatest food can be found where you least expect it to be.

          But we never visited Oregon.

---

          I would spend most of my time taking photographs of my father's creations and create a few dishes myself, but the empty hole inside me was gaping. I wish we would see each other, or exchange cell phone numbers, he had to have one. It is now May 18, 2010. My birthday is in forty-eight hours and I'll finally be fifteen. It is the age of learning how to drive and be granted some adult responsibilities, not like I needed anymore since I was reasonably responsible. I always got A's and B's on my report card, I have not consumed any drugs, and I was an almost tidy person. I was pretty decent all around. Although I have intake some wine here and there, but not a lot to get me dizzy. It was more like being able to pair a fine wine to specific dishes on my dad's menus, and since my tongue was more sensitive to taste that was my side job. Although I did secretly enjoy the small tingle I would get with every sip.

          On May 18 my mom told me to pack some clothes that would be enough for a month's time. I became accustomed to the random trips that I did not even bother on asking where. It was most likely New York or Napa Valley since that is where my birthday is usually celebrated. Don't get me wrong, I love spending time with family, but the friend category has been dry lately. Yes, I do have friends from high school, but they are just stationary and there. They don't really share a full connection to me. And most of them just hang around me to get into my dad's restaurants for free and spy on some rich people. I swear they are media vultures. They fly around for anything juicy to feed off and then expose their prey. I shrug off that lonesome thought and start to pack. I grabbed my copper luggage with stickers plastered all over its surface. Some are bumper stickers with food puns and others are actually iron-on patches that I superglued on. I tossed in random undergarments, two sport bras and shorts, comfy sleepwear, plain underwear and bras. I grabbed my face wash, pimple cream, lotions, tooth paste and brush into an iridescent zip up bag and placed it in the flap of the luggage. I put a pair of white converse in the mesh zipper along with a hand full of black, grey, and white ankle length socks. Lastly I grabbed some plain outfits for the trip. I never was into being flashy, but rather subtle. After zipping up the luggage and filling up my black backpack I plopped onto my bed.

          "Ugghhh-why did we every make that promise?" I asked myself in a wishful way.

          I waited there in the silence. As if I would receive a response. But I wondered what would happen if there was. My hands moved to the shiny yellow metal on my denim jacket. It's coarse metal felt satisfying in a way and filled me to the brim with emotions. Why couldn't I get ahold of any contact with Nathan, what was there to hid to keep away?

          "If only I was eleven again-" I removed the pin and longingly stared at Nathan's pin "then I would be able to see you again."

          Letting myself release a deep sigh I brought the pin close to my chest. It was cradled inside my palm with care. Closing my eyes to the silence of my room. Falling into motion that the universe has made for me. My body laid still in silence. And with my raspy breathe I spoke.

          "I really miss you Nathan"