A War of Guns and Roses

Chapter 4

I strolled around the pathway, eyes brightening when I caught sight of the swing-sets. Memories of my childhood flashed past my eyes and a small bittersweet smile drew on my lips.

Jake whistled a tune beside me, his eyes drawn to the phone in his hands. My hands were stuffed in the pockets of my beige jacket. The sun was setting, bathing the entire park in golden hues of warmth. It was one of my favorite places to be at this time of the day.

I swung up and down as I enjoyed the cool air caressing my cheeks and brushing my hair away. Jake took a seat on the swing next to me and tucked his phone away. He kicked his feet into the air, the two of us laughing when the swing creaked under his weight.

"I'm not fat," he pouted.

"The swing claims otherwise," I teased. We both knew that Jake had more muscles than fat, special courtesy of my father. It was just a pity that he wasn't interested in girls.

We swung up and about for a while longer, enjoying the crisp air and the silence with the occasional bark and the gushing of water.

"I have always wanted a dog," I suddenly mentioned.

"What?"

"A puppy," I smiled. "I have always wanted one."

His eyebrows furrowed. "Then why don't you have one?"

"My mother was allergic," I shook my head. "And I haven't thought about it ever since."

"What was she like?" he asked after a pause, knowing very well how much I adored her.

"She was beautiful," I started, smiling. "And very modest. She didn't like to flaunt the money she had although Dad showered her with luxuries. I...uh, I was an unplanned consequence and she was only 20 when she had me but she loved me all the same."

"Your parents got married early?" he asked curiously.

I nodded. "They were high school sweethearts."

"A little hard to believe," Jake muttered and I knew he was referring to how stand-offish my father had gotten after she passed away.

"I know. But he loved her. You wouldn't believe it, but he used to be very warm when I was little. He loved her a lot," I said, smiling softly.

"She seems very nice," he said, scratching the back of his neck.

"She was. I remember when I was little, my grandfather hated us. He didn't like the fact that my father married my mother, especially because she wasn't from a very well-off family. He considered her a hurdle in the path of his son's success. He used to taunt us, call us names and...stuff. But she never caved in. She never snapped back at him. The only reason she ever told my father about it was because he had started harassing me."

"What did your father say?"

"He was livid at my mother. He didn't want to believe that his own father would do that, especially since it hadn't been very long since my grandmother passed away. He was grieving and when she told him, he lashed out at her. She never brought it up again."

"Wow. Wait...is that why you hate swearing?"

I nodded. "I was taught the meaning of those words at a very early age since they were thrown at me. I never liked cussing ever since."

"What was New York like?" I asked him.

His eyes immediately lit up. "It's amazing. It's always bustling. Any time of the day. And the night life is absolutely beautiful. You would forget going to the bars here if you entered their INKwell club. And their chocolate chip walnut cookie is to die for!" he continued animatedly, expressing the feeling he had felt. When he was finally done, he was completely out of breath and I laughed at his red face.