American Dream?

Daydreamer

We arrive back to the house at, what my grandparents would call, an ungodly hour. 3 a.m. to be precise. The taxi ride was horrid. The taxi had no suspension so me and Jason, being at the back of the car, were flung from one side to another. My mum didn’t seem to notice and she still was sleeping against the seats leather covering, her soft snores reaching my ears.

I kept getting flashbacks of Serena’s face when I left her in the hospital bed. She looked so scared, so vulnerable. Her pleading eyes boring through me. I couldn’t look back when I walked away, how could I? I knew that if I did I would not be able to leave. The images of that scene still haunt my nightmares even now.

I didn’t realise that I was crying until I looked up at Jason, but he was all blurry. He was still holding my trembling hands and pulling my close to him. I couldn’t believe that I still had tears to shed after all the crying I have been doing lately. Jason must have thought that I’m such a cry baby.

“Sorry I’m crying so much on you lately.” I said to him as he pulled down one of his sleeves to dry my eyes and I noticed the huge wet patch I cause on his T-shirt.

“You have a reason to.” He replied in his husky, deep voice. I looked out of the window of the cab to see the bright streetlights and the blindingly white headlights of passing cars. I saw drunken women and men wobbling down the street, clearly lost. But they still seemed to be have a good time. The girl all screaming as passing cars honked there horns at the scantily clad girls.

They all wore mini dresses, killer heals, and bright pink, glitter horns on their heads. On had a light pink, silk like sash across her front. In fancy script it read ‘Bride-To-Be’. Hen Party.

I couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to be on of those girls. All of them partying without a care in the world. No sisters in hospital. No mental parents. Being allow to stay in England.

Don’t get me wrong, New York is an amazing place. I was nine went I went there on holiday, it was mesmerizing. I wanted to stay there forever, to never leave. The lights, the scenery, the place entirely were intoxicating my senses. I never hood my love for New York. How could I? You can’t really believe how spectacular it is unless you’ve actually been there.

Compared to England there is no competition. Others might think otherwise but I have lived in England all my life and it looked grey, boring and depressing compared to New York. I was sick of always needing to carry and umbrella, having fearsome wind that messes up your hair and makes you look like you’ve been dragged through a bush backwards.

I don’t know how long I was staring out the window and daydreaming for but all I know was that I was there for a long time. I was brought back to reality they the taxi making a sudden stop, the engine giving one last, ear-shattering cough before switching off.

Even mum woke up from her sleep and looked quite shocked. I realized we were home at last. I could see the streetlights reflecting off the windows. Everything was quite. A few neighbours switching there lights on, woken up by the car.

I took my first chance to get out of the car. I scrambled out, half dragging Jason as are hands were still entwined. His hair was ruffled from the car journey and his hands were shaking. If anyone else has hair looking like that they would look like a monster, like I noticed I did as I caught my reflection in the car window and almost jumped out of my skin. Somehow though, Jason managed to look sexier with this look, which I had no idea how he achieved.

Mum looked like a zombie. The cab driver helpfully leaned over to open the door for her, she didn’t move and inch. He had to get out of the drivers seat, walk round the car and open the door for her before she came to her senses, got up and out of the car. The cab driver slammed the door of the car and turned to me.