302 Wallance Lane

Chapter Two

   The sun rises with the morning thought of coffee and dew on the windowsill. My mother is busy in the shower while my father watches the static news on the television.  He sits, munching down on a donut he bought in the convenient store down the hall, glasses falling down the long slope of his nose. He sniffles and pushes them back up with crumb stained fingers. My mother walks out from the bathroom shaking the wet dew from her hair. Her eyes look tired, she is tired.

  "I'm hungry." I speak up interrupting the news.

   "There's five dollars on the table, they have snacks at the convenient store." My father nods his head at the crumpled five on the small table that sits in the corner of the room. I stand up, bed creaking as my weight leaves it.

  "Thanks." I tell my father pushing the five into my jacket pocket and walking out the door.

    "Don't be too long Charlotte." He calls behind as the door shuts behind me. Hunger doesn't cross my mind as I step into the small store. The bell above me dings and a sleepy cashier looks up at me. I offer a smile and head down the isle of Honey Buns and Cheerios. Images of last night flicker back through my mind as I pick up a package of Pop tarts. The package crinkles in my hands as I think of shoving it into my pocket and saving the money.

  "You thinking about stealing that eh?" A deep voice speaks up behind me startling me.

    "What. No." I turn. My eyes meet with Caspers , a cigarette dangles out of his lips unlit. He glances at the cashier before showing me the insides of his pockets. A small bottle of orange juice and a couple packages of Honey Buns spill out, "I've got the worst hangover." He leans close to me letting out a laugh. I look up at him trying to conceal my snicker. "I'm totally joking, but I'm starving. How about you?" He pats me on the head and walks right out the door. I follow behind him shoving the Pop tarts into my pocket.

"Where are you going?" I ask him as he sits on the edge of the side walk.

  "Everywhere and nowhere." He smirks at me as I sit down next to him.

    "Do you live here?" I ask him as he takes a swig of his orange juice.

     "Doesn't really matter does it." He shrugs and flicks me in the knee.

      "I guess not." I look down at my shoes.

       "Do you live here." He mocks me.

        I roll my eyes at him not amused, "I'm actually leaving soon, my parents are waiting for me. We live a couple minutes away from here. Nothing too big."

        "You better get going then eh?" He stands pushing the Orange juice back into his black jacket, "Until our next adventure Charlotte."

     Casper disappears once again and I head back to the sound of my father calling me. My parents argue as we climb into the clunky Volkswagen.

The sun has painted a soft color on the worn-out house. Weeds have started to cling to the bottom of the mailbox and travelled into the cracks of the sidewalk. Wind softly pushes against the trees that tap on the window. My mother slowly gets out of the car taking her time to grab her purse and keys. I can tell she aches with every step she takes.

"The electricity should be back on." My father states as he watches my drained mother unlock the front door. My boots cross the threshold once again as the click of a switch sounds behind me. The warm lights wake up the sleeping corners of the house and scream at the white walls. Although the overhead lights give off an orange glow the house feels unwelcoming and passionless. A shiver runs down my spine as I walk down the short hallway. Something inside me screams warning signs. I ignore my feeling in and enter the bedroom which I am forced to call my own. Four blank walls that match the blank stare on my face. The sounds of footsteps sing in the hall behind me, I turn to see my father setting down some boxes of mine from the car. He offers me a smile, his blue eyes meet mine for a second before glancing back down at the boxes. The tips of his short grey hair dance under the air coming out of the dusty heater above him.

"Thank you." I tell him. He nods and turns to leave.

  "There's some more in the car." He leaves without saying another word. I sigh as I pop open the top of the first box. An old, pink,  worn out rabbit stares back at me with a piercing look. I have never seen this stuffed rabbit before. I pick the small stuffed toy up and toss it back and forth in my hand, strange. I drop the small rabbit back into the box and make my way to the car to collect my other boxes.
The day slowly goes by like a dream. My window faces the front of the house towards the street. The cars drag past like snails, their engines speaking a low growl, like dragons in a dark cave. By the end of the night my twin sized mattress has been set up on the ride side of my room. The corner of my rusted bed frame touches my lonely window. The closet sits only three steps from the end of my bed. A small, faded, blue dresser occupies the left wall of my room, spaces next to my door. I have hung up a single photo frame above my dresser. No photo sits inside that frame besides the default picture of a white daisy with a blue sky. I call the picture, "dreaming." I laugh at myself as I hang up the last of my shirts. Few hang in my closet side by side. They droop in sadness. My bed inhabits one flattened pillow, it's cover is a faded tie dye. The comforter is simply grey. A low brown chair sits on the other side of my window. A stack of broken Cd cases and books overflow on top. I pick up the small rabbit from the last box in my room and place him at the top of the pile. He slumps in on himself, his left ear hanging to the side. I nudge the stuffed toy with the knuckle of my pointer finger. He doesn't smile.
"Charlotte dinner is ready." My fathers voice echoes down the hall. I take one last look at the sad Rabbit and grab the only box left. I touch the walls as I drag the large box down the hallway. Our dining room table sits between the living room and kitchen. No food cover the table, only a pair of reading glasses, a pack of cigarettes, and papers which I assume are bills. I drag the box to the front door and set it down with a thump.
"Charlotte will you take the boxes outside when you're done eating?" My mother asks from behind me.
"Yes momma. " I reply. She gives me a half smile and returns to the darkest corners of the house. I find my father in the kitchen drinking from a freshly opened bottle of beer.
"Pizza!" He says excitingly. A opened box of pizza sits on the counter. Dust still collects on the edges of the counter mixing in with the stained white tops. I grab a slice of the thin cheese pizza and open the fridge. The only thing inside is beer, orange juice, and a lunch-able.
"Your mother is going to the store tomorrow." My father tells me noticing my sighs.
"What do you have planned?" I ask my father as I grab a glass from the cabinet above the sink and fill it with orange juice.
"I'm gonna mow that disgusting grass outside. Might have to fix some shingles on the roof too." He tells me picking from the pizza box.
"And mom is going to the store?" I ask again.
"Mhmm." My dad sips his beer, " What are you gonna do Charley?" My dad coos.
"Find a job probably." I shrug my shoulders and pick up my glass of orange juice.
"Sounds like a great idea." He smiles and leaves the kitchen. I finish my slice of pizza and orange juice and set my glass in the sink. My tiny house is dark as I walk through it. The only lights coming from the hospital fluorescents in the kitchen and the pumpkin orange porch light shining through our newly put up red curtains. Our house is a one story tiny house at the end of a street. The front door sits between the living room and kitchen. A small awkwardly shape table sits feet in front of that. The living room has a plaid couch that sits against the farthest wall and an old antenna tv adjacent to that. A glass coffee table sits in the middle. Behind the living room wall is a hallway that leads straight to my room. An old bathroom and closet sit on the right side of the hall. Behind the kitchen is my parents room. Biggest room in the house, but darkest. It's quiet and cold throughout the home. Although it is no longer vacant it still screams LONELY. I don't think our home will ever feel like home.
As I lay with my back pressed against my sheets I listen to cars pass by outside. I watch their lights dance like ballerinas against my closet doors. It starts to rain softly outside my window. Calmly tapping against it. The rainy window reflects onto to the small stuffed rabbit. He looks like he could be crying, if he were real.