This is a group of short stories I wrote my for my freshman English class at Miami.
It is basically a quick overview of my relationship with my father. Over the years, he and I have gone from best friends, to worst enemies. These are all actual memories of different times in my life, written by yours truly.
A smooth blacktop road and a ten-year-old on a dirt bike. "Dad,
let's ride down Bowman before we go home. They finished the construction
work a few days ago, so all the barrels are gone. Look at how smooth it is.
It has to be perfect to ride a bike down."
"Well, okay. But be careful. Stay to the side of the road, and
watch for cars. And wait for me before starting home. And don't tell your
mom I let you do this."
I grinned widely and turned down the street. I could see all the
way down to the curve at the bottom of the hill. The entire road was black,
and there wasn't a bump or crack in it. I gripped the handlebars
tightly and peddled as hard as I could to get up speed on the flat area
before the hill. I was going to ride as fast as my legs and gravity would
allow.
I raced down the street, swerving out around parked cars and the
black cat that almost decided to cross my path. I glanced left and right
at the houses, hoping that someone would see me speeding by, but they
were whizzing by so quickly that I couldn't tell if there was anyone
watching or not. What I could see was the puddle at the bottom of the hill
left over from yesterday's rain. I thought about the splash I could make
going through a puddle at such a high speed. I smiled to myself and headed
for that puddle.
As I got closer to the puddle, I realized how close I was to the
curve at the end of the street. If I didn't slow down and get ready to
turn my handlebars, I was going to run up the curb and into someone's front
yard. That wasn't a pleasant thought. I slammed on my brakes at the same
moment that my tires reached the puddle. But I found out that it wasn't
just a puddle. There were some wet and slippery leaves that were hidden at
the bottom of it. The next thing I knew, my bike flew out from under me,
and I was soaring through the air.
THUD. I ended up in somebody's front yard after all. OUCH! My
bike landed on my leg. Wait - that's not all that's on my leg. What's that
red stuff? Blood? I'm bleeding? I'm bleeding! THAT HURTS!
I looked at my bloody elbows and knees, and I did what any
ten-year-old girl would do. I cried. Dad came over to me, looked at me
lying there on the ground sobbing for a moment, then he said, "That was neat!"
"Dad, it hurts!"
"But it looked great! You did a double somersault over those
handlebars. Let's go back to the top of the hill and see if you can do it
again."
I had to laugh. "But, Dad..."
"Wait a minute. I thought you were crying because it hurt so much.
Now you're laughing?"
"Well, it did hurt, but... It stopped."
"I've told you before that pain is all in your head. When you
don't think about it, it doesn't hurt. Come on, let's go home so your mom
can get you cleaned up. I'll be in a heap of trouble over this one."
"No Dad, you're getting your wisdom teeth out today? But this is
opening night!"
"Well, I'm sorry. I made this appointment six months ago. I can't
change it now."
" I wanted you to come see me."
"I'm sorry."
"Dad, I have a solo."
"Carrie, there's nothing I can do about it. I'll come to see you
next weekend."
With a sigh, I left the room. He left to go to the dentist while I
got ready to go to the Playhouse. I was in a show called Broadway Galleries.
It was a collection of musicales, and I got chosen to sing "Freddy, My
Love" from Grease. I had never done any serious singing before, and I was
thrilled that I got to sing a solo. I was really proud of myself. I wanted
everyone I knew to come and see me on opening night. But now, my own father
wasn't going to see me, and I was really disappointed. I had looked forward
to his critique of my performance. Though he knew nothing about music,
he knew what he liked and what sounded good, and I knew he'd tell me his
honest opinion. I frowned as I grabbed my music and left my house.
As I made my entrance that night with all of the girls in Grease, I
scanned the audience for familiar faces. My aunt and cousin were sitting in
the front row on the right. My seventh grade Literature teacher was
sitting in the third row of the middle section. The lights were too dim for
me to see any farther back. After we finished "Summer Nights," I went to
the front of the stage and began my solo.
Before I even set foot in the playhouse that night, I had decided that
I would put every bit of effort that I had into my solo so Dad would hear
everyone saying how well I did, and then he'd be sorry he missed it.
I sang better than I ever had sung before, but I wasn't concentrating on
the music. I was too busy wishing that Dad could have been there.
After the show was over, I went up to the dressing room to get out of
my costume. Everyone there told me we had to go outside in front of the
playhouse so the audience could talk to us. I decided to go find my mom and
grandparents and see what they thought of the rest of the show. I knew they
would say what they always say: I was wonderful.
I walked out the door and into the crowd. I couldn't find my family,
but as I was walking through the crowd, I felt a man's hand on my
shoulder. "You were excellent!" a voice from behind me exclaimed. I
turned around. Before me stood Mr. D'Epiro, the head of the music department
at our school. I smiled and thanked him. I didn't think I could ever get
a compliment that meant as much to me as that did. Then I heard a
muffled voice on my right.
"Tha waf prelly dood," Dad said as he gave me a gauze-filled smile.
"Your father is going to be home any minute, and he's not going to be
very happy with these grades."
That's nothing unusual.
"The last time you brought home a report card, he told me he gave up
and he wasn't going to deal with you anymore. He said if I wanted to
ground you, I could, but he would have no part in any of it."
Good. Maybe I'll only get yelled at by one parent this time. Yeah,
right.
"So I guess you're grounded again. Do you plan to spend another
entire year with no social life, or are you actually going to start
studying sometime?"
No, I really love spending every fucking weekend at home with you.
I think I'll try to be grounded through Christmas break, too.
I responded by glaring at her as evilly as I could, then turning around
and walking upstairs to my room. I heard the garage door open. Dad was
home. "Carrie got her grades today."
Great, Mom, tell him as soon as he walks in the door. Don't even
let him get his coat off.
"How bad are they this time?"
"Two A's, a B, and two C's."
"But the A's are in Band and Choir."
I like band and choir.
"And the B is in Music Theory. She does well in the classes that
don't take any effort."
Fuck you, Dad.
"I grounded her again."
"I give up. She doesn't ever listen. Why should I waste my time
yelling at her? I'm going up to change clothes."
"Supper's almost ready. Carolyn, get down here and set the table!"
Oh joy, another fun-filled meal with my parents lecturing me about my
grades.
I passed dad on my way down the stairs. He didn't even look at me.
I set the table. We ate. No one said a word. We cleared the table and sat
down to watch the news. Dad still didn't speak to me. Three weeks later,
he said good night to me when I went to bed.
I ran up to my dad when he got home from work and gave him a big hug.
"Dad, I'm home for a whole week, and I'm so glad to get away from all of
that work for a while! You wouldn't believe all of the stuff that I have
had to do! I have had so many papers to write and exams to study for. And
this has just been in the past two weeks! But now I'm home and I get to
relax and spend time with my family. You need a haircut." I squeezed him
tightly, then looked up at him and smiled. "So what are we going to do
tonight? We need to spend quality time together. We need to bond."
He pulled my arms away from him, looked at me with a big grin on his
face and said, "How long before you go back to school?"