Home Sweet Home

Reads: 157  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 2

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a story about a young adult who finds herself somewhere she has never been before. As she strives to get back from where she came from, she finds more than just a place to call Home Sweet Home.

Submitted: February 01, 2008

A A A | A A A

Submitted: February 01, 2008

A A A

A A A


Home Sweet Home

By: Haley77

I sit and watch as the man sitting across from me falls victim to a fit of coughing. I look out the window next to me and allow my mind to wander into the unknown. Fields of white on the England countryside passed by me. The old, blue bus must have been around 50 years old. Almost as old as the road which was covered with potholes and hadn't been paved in decades. It was getting dark quickly and I grew impatient as the bus driver insisted on staying 10 miles per hour under the speed limit. The man started hacking again. He was wearing a dark green sweater with his small black hat pulled down over his face. He had the presence of an esteemed nobleman whose mind was always on his business and mouth was always in his handkerchief. It's getting later. He reminded me of someone that I had known a long time ago, but I could not recall a name. The hour hand on my watch has just now turned to 11:00 a.m.

In a few minute's time we arrived at a small abandoned hotel. The hotel was obviously not a popular place of lodging judging by its poorly manicured lawn and faded paint. The man paid the driver and bid him a good night. I am now the only one left to be dropped off and the bus driver praises himself with a good day's work. Sleep befalls me and I dream of men in green sweaters and shabby hotels. The man is talking to me, but for some reason I don't understand him. As the bus comes to a screeching halt, I wake up startled and annoyed by being interrupted from a pleasant rest. We are in a city surrounded by bright lights and many boisterous people. I suddenly realize that this is not my stop. This is definitely not where I told the man to drop me off. "I'm afraid you've made a mistake," I said casually, trying not to sound mean, "I'm supposed to get off at Salzburg Square." I waited for a response. "Sir?” The man still did not answer me. I decided not to act as if anything out of the ordinary had happened. I stood up, paid the man, and walked off the bus. The recklessness commotion of the street was of complete unfamiliarity to me. A small coffee shop caught my eye. The people inside looked warm and inviting. Well, maybe I'll be able to find a place to stay if I ask one of the locals, I thought. The thought of a warm raspberry mocha coffee seemed too good to be true. I hurriedly walked out of the cold and into the warmth of the cozy shop.

"Would you fancy a cup of tea, madam?" asked the waiter as soon as I sat down.

"Just coffee should be fine."

"Coming right up."

I looked around to see if I could find anyone who looked as if they knew their way around town. When the waiter returned, I told him I was new around here and if he could tell me where I was and where I could find a decent place to spend the night. "Well, your in the city o' Arrowhead Point not to far from Kent. But I am sorry to tell you that there's no place to stay round here," he said to my disappointment, "You'd have to travel a pretty good way to find any kind of hotel." I sat in thought about how I was to get home. These names of cities or towns or whatever were not known to me. It was definite. I was lost.

"You may use our phone if you like," said the kind waiter, unsure of how to help this abandoned confused lady back to her home.

"Yes, if it's not too much trouble." I replied thankfully. He took me to the back of the shop and showed me where the phone was. I decided to dial my home number. Maybe Jude had stopped by for a visit. No one answered. I tried a few of my friend's numbers, but received the same response.

"No luck?” asked the waiter.

"No, unfortunately not," I said, my mind blank of what to do now. For a minute or two we stood in silence.

"Well," he began," my shift will end pretty soon if you don't mind waiting a bit. I just have to clean up the tables some. Then I would be glad to help find you a place to stay."

I considered his kind gesture for a moment. I had two choices: Either risk setting off on foot by myself in the dead of a snowy night or get in a car with an absolute stranger that may or may not know his way around this town. I chose the latter of the two.

"That sounds like a good plan to me, if it's not too much trouble, of course," I said hesitantly. Maybe he wasn't really up for the challenge of finding my way back home. He was just being nice and had expected me to say no.

"All right, give me five minutes. Just five and I'll be ready to go. He ran back to the dining area and washed the tables, put the chairs on top of the tables, and put all the dirty dishes away. "Ready?" he asked.

"Definitely," I replied. He walked me to the back door where the employees park their cars. He went straight to an antique truck that seemed to have been pelted with rocks and was in the desperate need of a paint job. When he started the car the engine sounded as if it had lived the span of its life and was ready to give out. We got on the road and we started to speed up. Suddenly out of nowhere a possum was in the middle of the road. He swerved off the road and into a ditch. Everything started to go black and I remembered nothing more.

There was something shiny above me. I groped to cover it up so I could continue sleeping, but I could barely lift my hand from weariness. My eyes eventually adjusted to the light. The shiny light turned out to be the glasses of what seemed to be a middle-aged man. I then realized it had been the man on the bus, but he hadn't been wearing glasses then. I quickly sat up in bed, scared to be alone with this strange man. As I sat up I wished I hadn't, I experienced what felt like an explosion in my head. I then remembered the car crash and wondered if the waiter was all right. The man began to talk.

"I see you've awakened. That was quite a hit to the head you took. How do you feel?"

"My head feel's like I'm having a migraine. How is the man I was with?"

"He's perfectly fine. You got the worst of it. He drove right into a tree and it was on your side. You should be feeling fine in a day or two. In the meantime you should get some rest."

I looked about myself. I was in a small twin bed with atrocious mustard yellow sheets. I was in a small room with nothing in it but a little dresser in the corner. The walls were a floral print wallpaper that had been aged to a yellow color. There were only two doors. One of the doors was probably a bathroom door, and the other leading to somewhere unknown to me.

"Do you remember me from the bus? I remember you."

"Yes, I do remember you."

"Is this the hotel where you were dropped off?"

"As a matter of fact it is." It was quiet for a while and then the man asked me a question. "If it's not too rude to ask you this, I was wondering what your name might be."

"It's Adeline, Adeline Holmes."

"Adeline Holmes? Your name is Adeline Holmes?" He then burst into tears. But these were not tears of sadness, but rather tears of joy. "Oh, Adeline! It is me your father, Martin Holmes. Oh, how I've tried to find you all of these years. After we left you to stay with your grandparents for a few days, your mother and I were kidnapped by spies because they thought we were a threat. They put us in their jail and two weeks later your mother died of the measles. When I was released from captivity, I went back to find you, but I had been gone longer than I thought. Your grandparents were gone and you were all grown up. I can’t believe it. I just can't believe it! I've found my daughter."

It was as if I could not understand English anymore. This man was telling me he was my father whom I have never seen before. How could this be true? This must be a joke. A mean, old joke that he was playing on me. I then looked up into the man's eyes. They were a blue-green color, just like mine. His nose had and extra blob on the end, just like mine. Also, his left ear was slightly lower than the right ear, just like mine. This man was my father!

"Oh, father! It really is you!"

We then hugged and cried. We had finally found each other. I had always thought about my mother and father when I was a young girl, but I had temporarily forgotten about them the past two or three years. I told my father everything. I told him about my whole life right up to the car crash. It had to be the happiest day of my life.

After leaving the hotel two days later, my father drove me to his house. I decided to spend the night there instead of going back to my apartment. We talked into the night, reliving past time memories. As we sat and drank down the rest of our coffee I thought to myself, Now I am truly back home.


© Copyright 2017 Haley77. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

Comments

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Unknown

avatar

Author
Reply

Booksie 2017-2018 Short Story Contest

Booksie Popular Content

Other Content by Haley77

i don't have a title yet

Book / Romance

Home Sweet Home

Short Story / Other

O Goldhaven!

Poem / Poetry

Popular Tags