I Need Some Time

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A girl who has had a difficult past. Her father left her and her mother a long time ago, but truth is, her mother kicked her father out of the house. The daughter always loved seeing her father, seeing him frequently. But recently living with her mother, she realizes she's missing something and just has to get out of the house because she's not finding it with her mother. And the pain she's been feeling isn't being resolved there with her mother either so maybe taking a trip to her father may help her clear her mind.

Submitted: May 15, 2012

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Submitted: May 15, 2012

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See, this is why I don’t trust mankind; this constant ache in my gut that constantly lets me down because they always fail me. If you think I should give them another chance, you’re right. I should and will. But how does this ever help me out? How does this make it fair to how I feel? How I feel? Should I just ignore what or how I feel? NO. That won’t ever happen.

Everyone is always wishing for world peace like girls on pageants, or spokes people. They speak about how the world is so troubled terribly ruined by the awful events that people cause themselves to suffer. But they keep their suffering to themselves and the world keeps going on like it always has. But if it’s already ruined and it goes about already how it is how is that helping out anyone? How can keeping problems to yourself make this world anymore worse? I don’t think it can, only better getting the suffering off one person to help another out with the same or a similar problem.  There has to be a better way to life than keeping all the world’s secrets locked up inside ourselves, only to cry and shed the tears of regret in the shame no one will ever understand, when someone might in fact be that one who may understand.

My eyes watered and my fist came to the ground as if to beat it with all my might. But this vast world, this monstrous piece of ground, was too strong for me to do so. Angry tears shed from my eyes, these weren’t some silly tears. I never cry! But when your back is against the wall, your life is a complete lie, and no one is there for you, there may be nothing else to do but cry and curse at the ground you stand on. Yes, I’m thankful for what I did have. Yes, I’m thankful for the times I shared with any other human being from my past. But damn it, can’t anyone be truthful on this entire planet? There HAS to be more than what humans have to offer.

I walked over and plopped on the soft, cushiony couch. I lay on all the feathery pillows my mom loved to decorate our humungous house with. I hate these pillows! I took that damn feathery pillow and threw it across the nicely furnished living room until the laws of physics took over and clashed against an expensive-looking lamp. I rolled my eyes as I watched the lamp come crashing down to the floor along with the silent thud of the pillow. This house was how life was; expensive looking, all decorated and special for people to enjoy from its outside looks, but on the inside it was just another old Victorian which happened to be where everyone in town could see it, smack-dab in the middle.

One of my mama’s servants came into the room and stared at me, then searched the large room until her eyes locked onto the pillow and the broken lamp on the floor. “What happened?”

I shrugged. “It was the cat.”

She crossed her arms, “Sure.”

“Alright, don’t believe me. But I ain’t cleanin’ it up,” I said, purposely disrespectfully.

Her eyes narrowed at me. “Oh, yes you are. I’m going to get the broom and be right back and you are going to clean this up.”

“ Ya go get the broom, but I won’t be here when ya get back. And even I am, what you gon’ do if I don’t clean it up?” I challenged.

She always had tried to talk like us southern folk. I hate fake people, who try to fit in. It’s as if yourself ain’t good enough for nobody anymore. Like the northern white woman this one was, she didn’t know what to do. “I’m going to get your mama!” she warned.

I nodded towards the upstairs, “She’s up there.”

The cleaning lady flushed red in her angry stance and bolted up the stairs. I know they expected this behavior from a sixteen year-old and not from an eighteen-year-old. I let everyone know I didn’t want to be here, in this fake lifestyle with my mama and they definitely got the message.

“Azie!” my mama yelled as she trotted down the stairs, her high heels clip-clapping each step she took. She approached me in her cock-tail dress, eyeing me with anger. “Why’d ya do this?” she pointed with her index finger towards the mess.

I stood up and squared my shoulders like my daddy had always told me. “Ya really wana know?”

She waited.

“I don’t wana be here,” I thought for a moment and realized, I am eighteen. What am I still doing here? I can leave at anytime and stay anywhere I want and go anywhere. I smiled, “Ya know, mama. I’m sorry, let me clean this here mess up!” I ran to the closet and grabbed the broom immediately cleaning up what I’d done. I’d be gone soon; why shouldn’t I show the little decency my daddy had always told me to show? If I didn’t show any, especially to my mama, I would never be to anyone.

Both the servant and my mama were wide-eyed, shocked. I cleaned-up and went to my room. I began to pack; I needed to get out of there. If I was ever going to grow up I needed to face a lot of reality instead of just hurting people all the time. I needed to learn from experience that I feel I need by the disrespect I’ve been showing towards my mama.

There was a knock on the door and suddenly the door opened. I didn’t bother to ask who it was because I knew it was my mama; she always knocked the same, a gentle knock on the door and then entered my room without a single word.

“Azie?” she addressed after a minute of silence, in her high class tone she’d learned from my snobby grandmother. I knew from the long silence she was staring at the suitcase and pile of clothes on my small bed. “What are you doin?”

I sighed but continued packing, “I’m movin’ out, Ma.”

“W-what do you mean?”

“I’m movin’ out.”

There was silence. “You’re not leavin’me. You’re only—“

“Eighteen?” I interrupted her, “Yes, I am. And I don’t know what I’m doin’ with myself. Plus, I’ve been so unhappy here.” I thought about what I was saying. It was true I was unhappy here. “I’ve been so disrespectful, too. I need to find something, anything. There has to be more to life than how I’m livin’ now with just you, Mama. I don’t know what I want to find, but it’s not enough what this place offers; and I can’t stay.”

I stared at the floor, I’d always thought like this but never as much as I did at this very moment. But something had snapped inside me when I was downstairs, and after I began packing, I realized something; I want something that I’m not sure how to obtain with how I’m living now. I think life has something much moiré to offer than partying, drinking, family and friends. There has to be, life isn’t just about mankind, isn’t there something outside of this realm? Maybe, a religion or something. My family has always been religious beyond comprehension and that’s where my dad gets his morals from. But could there be more than how to behave?

“Ya can’t leave!” she shouted, interrupting my thoughts with anger leaking from her once perfect high-pitched tone. I knew she was hurt, this is how she showed it and I knew it. But what was I supposed to do? Live happily ever after for her for her own sake? I’m not doing that. I care for myself too much to just give in to what my mama wants. Aren’t people supposed to others before themselves? Sure. But that doesn’t mean anyone should completely forget about their own happiness for the sake of others and I’m definitely not like that for anybody. I’m her daughter not her dog that she’s promised to care for life.

“Sorry,” I mumbled quietly but loud enough for her to hear, “But I have to do this, for me.”

“Sorry, nothin’! You ain’t leaving’! Where ya gon’ go, your father’s?” she questioned angrily.

We were both silent. It had entered my mind about heading to my pa’s.  At least I could stand to live under the same roof with him without having a huge argument with him about ridiculous things like I did with my mama.

Her eyes widened with surprise, “Are you serious? You can’t be!”

“Look—“  I tried to say but words failed me and she spoke in my place.

“Your pa left me and you!” She hissed with a mix of past hurt and anger.

My eyes shut tight and the lies from my mama began to repeat in my head from where she was just going on about my pa. She always used to say, “He never loved you”, “If he loved us, he would’ve stayed” and “Don’t ya ever go lookin’ for that man, he left you for a reason. He never wanted to see you again!”But all of these sayings started out with, “Your pa left me and you!” I’ve heard it before but I’ve been with my pa over the years back and forth, without her knowledge. She was always trying to convince herself more than me he had left her because she had pushed him out the door with her own two hands, afraid after she hurt him he could never love her again. He always loved her…but she never would admit to it. She always was afraid of the truth.

A sting flew into my cheek when my mama’s hand connected with the side of my face. I stumbled back a few steps and placed my right hand lightly onto my stinging right cheek. I stared in surprise at her with wide eyes. To my surprise, my vision blurred for a second as two hot tears fell from both my eyes.  I quickly wiped them away. Tears? Never in my life had I expected my mama to hit me whether it was a spanking or tight tug on the arm. Trust had flown out of me with the speed of that slap. Now,how could I possibly stay even if I wanted?

“Are you listenin’ to me, girl?” she demanded. “Your pa never loved you!”

I stood there silent. I’d always been calm and collected on the things I ever wanted to say. I had always bit back my tongue if there had been something that I shouldn’t have said. But my control got the better of me as the love of my father and the gut desire to defend him rose up inside me and reached my tongue with a stinging hiss to my words, “What are you talkin’ ‘bout? You cheated on pa! You had an affair and he still loved you. You never communicated in your relationship with him and then ya went behind his back and had an affair. ‘Course he loved you! But how could he stay while ya threw everything in this house at him until he left?”

She stood there, silent, taking in my words as if I had uncovered something long lost secret she never wanted to hear ever again, let alone from her own daughter. “Maybe I don’t know the whole story,” I admitted, “But that doesn’t mean ya couldn’t have at least tried to work it out with pa and made us one family, not two broken people separated by more fear of the unknown than the distance between you two.”

I turned around and continued packing. I was so tired of only having one part of me, I wanted my pa. I never wanted this. I wanted my parents together with the hope someday I could have the same thing as all my old classmates from school. I wanted the two parts of me together like a puzzle. But unlike the puzzle of life the puzzle of my parents never had stayed together. There may be hope for me, but frankly, I don’t see any with how my parents relationship and our shattered family. Maybe going to my pa’s I could maybe see some of my hope return for a new future maybe with a man and stay together. I don’t want my heart broken by any man or get messed-up relating to my love life in the future. Tears streamed from past’s memories that swirled around my mind in an unpleasant spiral as if a wonderful design will make the memories any better, it doesn’t.

“Fine, what do I care? Go, then! But don’t come crawlin’ back her when ya find out nobody will love ya like I can since they don’t know you like I do. Go on out there, make a livin’. But I hope ya never find anybody.” She stalked out, sobbing. I finished packing and ignored the words she hoped would sting to my very soul but didn’t. I’ve had this all before and I’m not falling for it after how many years of hearing it? I was out the door and driving away from my crazy mama, though I couldn’t ignore the fact that I would still miss her. 


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