Wesley's POV.
I stared at the journal that lay a foot in front of me as I took another hit from Piper's bong.
"And then I told her to go fuck herself," Piper cackled to Benny. They laughed together about something I wasn't paying much attention to. I still chuckled either way. Piper looked to me with her red hooded eyes, "Don't hog alright Wes." She said snatching the bong, "I can't get anymore until tomorrow." She took a drag and handed it to Benny.
"What the hell are you doing anyways?" She muttered. Benny slapped Piper's knee. "Ow you shit!"
"Leave him alone Piper," Benny shook his head, "He's thinking whether or not he should open it."
"Open what? Who does it belong to?" She shot back. I shrugged in response, "I don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know? Where'd you fucking find it?"
"You cuss too much for a girl." Benny groaned.
"And you slum too much weed off of me for a dude who lives in the fucking suburbs." She retaliated.
"Chill, you're killing my vibe."
"And you're killing my attraction for you."
Piper and Benny were the only other stoners I knew near my neighborhood. They were a lot older than I was and they argued every single day but ended up banging by the end of the night. They were pretty cool people otherwise.
"Something troubling your mind kid?" Benny asked. I shook my head. "Well I'm gonna go downstairs and fix me something to eat." He stood up from the floor and walked out of the room. Piper got up and ran after him as well.
I sat on the floor and continued to stare at the brown bounded journal. Although I was brave enough to pick it up, there was no way I could open it. Inside was someone's life. Their secrets and fears, their desires and hopes. I couldn't handle having all that on my conscience. And if I discovered who it belonged to? Could I just give it back knowing that I know so much of them? I decided I wouldn't open it. And then a thought lingered.
"Maybe if I read the first page," I murmured, "I'll find out who it belongs to and I'll give it back to them." That thought I was satisfied with. I grabbed the journal and unbounded it and turned to the first page. I was not that surprised to see pretty handwriting scrawled on the first page, but unfortunately, no name. I read on.
May 12, 2014
Dear Journal,
My therapist said you'd be good to me. I hope he's right.
Well this turned depressing, I thought to myself.
But then again he's my dad bestfriend so what the fuck does he really know?
Nevermind, haha.
I wanted to believe everything gets better with time. Time is such of an essence when your mother has stage four cancer. I'm sorry, had stage four cancer.
But I must admit something I never even seemed to have admitted to myself out loud. I realize now my biggest fear wasn't losing her. My mother had told me she wasn't afraid so neither should I. I was afraid of how my life was going to be like without her in it. All in all, I guess you could say I was afraid of the inevitable change that came along with her death. And how my life had changed for the worse.
Benny and Piper walked back into the room with bags of chips and sandwiches in their hands. Benny threw a bag of Doritos at me. "You decided to read it?" Benny said. I quickly shushed him and continued reading.
When my father found out she waa diagnosed, he became a man I never knew he could become. He became distant, spoke less, and didn't come home for hours at a time. My mother wasn't even dead yet and I could already see change taking its form. And how scared I was then.
"What does it say?" Piper asked. I shook my head. She rolled her eyes.
My mother tried to excuse his absences all the time. "He's working late honey." "He has a lot on his plate honey." "This is hard for him to deal with." "Don't worry, things will come around." And my absolute favorite, "Things just need to take time, that's all." It took 8 months for my mother to slowly, yet beautifully rot in her bed. The night my mother died, I called my father, asking, begging, pleading for him to come home. I was so afraid to be alone. I fell asleep on the floor, outside of her room that night and when I woke up, I was in my room.
My mom once told me, "When your father realized I was pregnant, he was the same way he is now. He was scared of the change and the responsibility and the time he would lose not doing the things he wanted to do. He was so scared, it even made me scared. The night I had you, he never once took foot in the hospital. My family was furious and called him a coward. When I took you home for the first time, I took you upstairs and to my very surprise, there he was. Standing in your newly built nursery room, smiling and proud. I cried because I knew then that I loved your father for every flaw and mistake that made him. And you should too. Don't be afraid sugarplum, no matter how long it takes, I know your father. And I know in the end, he'll never let you down."
How wrong she was.
-M
I sighed as I rested it on my lap. My stomach ached with a certain guilt. I just read someone's most painful moment of their life. And still no clue who it belong to. But to whoever wrote this, it was as if I was experiencing their pain with them. This person has suffered a great loss, just like I had. They understand the greatest fears that come along with death. They understand what its like to feel alone. I didn't think I could relate with someone else in a very long time. And I wish I knew who this belonged to so I could look them in the eye and let them know that they weren't alone. Because I understood. I know what it feels like to feel like a burden on someone else. To feel like the odd one out, the one who is stuck on their pain of the past. I knew what it was like.
I sighed again and looked at Benny's bed side alarm. 1:21.
"Shit," I cursed at myself. I closed the journal and shoved it in my backpack.
"Where are you going?" Piper asked.
"Home," I said, "Georgia's gonna kill me." I threw my backpack over my shoulder and ran out the door. I was on my bike and speeding to my house with every ounce of energy in me. The streets were dead and cold but I knew very well that Georgia would be up and waiting for me.
As soon as I got home I carefully locked my bike to the backyard gate and snuck in through the sliding door. To my relief, the lights were off and the house was quiet. I slowly tiptoed through the living room and made my way up the stairs.
Until the light flicked on.
I froze mid-step.
"Wesley." Georgia said calmly.
I slowly turned around to find her leaning against the living room door frame. She looked pissed. I sighed. "Look Georgia, I'm sorry. I lost track of time-"
She raised her hand. "Stop Wesley, I don't want to hear it."
"Oh come on, don't be all fussy about it. It's just two-"
"Let me see your backpack." She ordered. I stiffened immediately and shook my head.
"Now Wes." She said sticking out her hand.
I stood in my place, "Come on, it's just my school supplies."
"Now!" She shouted.
"No!"
She walked up to me and took it from my hands. She tore it open and immediately covered her nose. She muffled a groan as she took out my stash and my homemade pill bottle bong. She threw me back my backpack.
"Go to bed Wes." She said.
"You can't do that Georgia! That's not even mine I swear it!"
"I just did, now go to bed!" She shouted, "I'm tired of hearing your excuses!"
"Then don't bother staying up all night to hear them!" I shot back.
Her voice became dangerously quiet, "Go to bed Wes or I'm going to call the police."
I completely froze. "You wouldn't." I murmured in disbelief.
She took out her phone, "It's only three numbers away."
I shut my mouth and turned around to walk up the stairs. I could hear her breathe in her sobs. "I'm tired of fighting with you Wes. Why can't you just accept that I'm taking care of you now?"
I stopped at the top of the stairs and said in a cold tone, "You're not my mother Georgia. So stop trying to be one." I walked to my room and slammed the door behind me.