Writing was once a creative outlet of mine and I would like to share a short story from 2011. The prompt for this piece was the poem When Ur Heart Turns Cold, find the snippet below:
The school buses outside the window started their engines.The time to get Charlie from daycare was approaching quickly. Ignoring the dishes below, the scalding water burned against Marie’s skin. The pain let her know she was alive, Charlie kept her going. Charlie, at the age of 4, is her source of light in the only dark world she knows. Marie dried the final dishes and began the afternoon cleanup. She’s dropping toys left and right into the bin. Layaways, bankshots, and now… the fadeaway shot she had learned many years before. Marie locks the door to the house and begins the journey to pick up Charlie. Charlie is all Marie has left in the world. An only child, she fell in love and had a family of her own. Marie knew the happiness a family brought would last her the rest of her life, but this family only lasted her a decade. Taken away by faulty gas pedals which would result in a nationwide recall.
Fall was approaching quickly and the beautiful yellows and reds filled the sidewalks in the park. Marie noticed the slight change in the color of the leaves, but life still presented a grey dull. She had somewhere to be now, and an objective: Get back to Charlie. Charlie patiently waited outside the daycare along with the other children and Mrs. Johnson. A spark of hope sprang into existence in Mrs. Johnson as her freedom came parent by parent. The group of twenty children dwindled down to ten, then seven, then three, and then two. Charlie and William were the last remaining children. At this time Mrs. Johnson had a flame burning so bright inside of her that she could already see the embers at her lips and feel the nicotine coursing through her veins. “You are an adult and can make whatever mistakes you want, but you should NEVER smoke around children… Especially not mine. I don’t want him exposed to that at such an early age,” William’s father said in a somewhat harsh tone.
Marie climbed the final hill to get to Charlie. Waiting for her was Mrs. Johnson, with a hand already in her purse clutching her lighter, and William and Charlie, sitting on the stairs looking at trading cards. Charlie ran to his mother and wrapped his arms around her legs. His head barely came past her waist. “Go back to playing cards,” Marie said. “Okay, but I don’t wanna wait around TTTOOOOOOO long,” Charlie responded. “That’s all up to William’s dad,” Mrs. Johnson chimed in. Charlie sat back down next to William who had been sorting the cards according to RBI. Marie reached into her purse for the pack of Marlboro she had bought earlier in the week. Mrs. Johnson ignites her lighter in a swift motion, releasing the built up energy that accumulated throughout her day. Marie and Mrs. Johnson sat a few steps above Charlie and William and began to chat.
It was twenty minutes before William’s father arrived. Mrs. Johnson placed her cigarette down on the step and stood upon it as she saw him approaching. Marie was not particularly fond of the other parents so she sat and continued to send her problems away in the trail of smoke. William’s father had a look of disgust from the smoke. “He’ll be exposed to a lot more before he gets out of elementary school,” Marie said between puffs, but William and his father were already walking away. Over Charlie’s shoes scuffing the steps on his way up, William’s dad could be heard saying not to play with Charlie, and avoid her mother.
“Some people,” Marie said.
“Don’t even worry about it. Things are always gonna be hard for the two of us,” Mrs. Johnson said, reassuring Marie. Charlie sat up wind of the two of them and reviewed the new cards William had given him. Charlie knew Marie did not get along with many people, but Mrs. Johnson was a close family friend that had seemed like she was his mother’s sister, even to the point he had tried to call her Aunt Jo. He couldn’t comprehend most of the things they did, but he knew that things were better whenever they talked. Mrs. Johnson was the best psychiatrist Marie could have.
