Who's Andrew?

Zhoom!

Bikes and cars speeded through the vacant streets. The sky was a mirage of pinks and purples and the lamplight that peppered through them were the fireflies in a still summer pond. My footsteps fell gently on the paved sidewalks and my peripherals glanced at houses and lawns swathed with the setting light.

My house loomed closer. My dim dusty desecrated house. Is that a light on? Why are the lights on? My footsteps fell harder on the stone. I heard sizzling … the scraping of pots and pans. Someone's in the house … SOMEONE'S IN THE HOUSE. I broke into a sprint.

My heart beat against my chest. The corners of my vision blurred. All I could hear was a high pitched ping in my ear. My fingers grew cold and slacked against the weight of my swaying arms.

I swung the door open.

"MOM?!" All the panic and the concern left me the same way carrion leaves a disturbed body. "Why are you here?"

She was wearing an apron and cooking sausages in my house. In MY HOUSE. She has some nerve! She turned around and smiled. She has the heart to smile at me? She comes home out of nowhere and just cooks dinner? Who does that?

"Hey darling … sit down. You must be tired."

She tried to touch my hand. "NO!" I yelled. I didn't expect to yell … I didn't want to yell … but everything just flew out and I couldn't do anything to stop it. "You can't just leave me! What kind of mother just leaves her child and just comes back whenever she wants?! If you ever wanted to leave, then I don't want you back!"

Tears streamed through my cheeks. My hands shook. Why legs quaked. I grew limp. The next thing I felt was the cold polished floor on my back. It was cradling me like a gentle child. Tossing me and spinning me to sleep. I wanted this, to be held and to be cradled, to be cared for. Then it churned and it slammed the sky unto me with the force of Spartan shield.

I reeled and I struggled to sit up. A bitter bile filled my mouth and soon afterward found its way all over the polished wooden floor.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

This is so soft. I felt my fingers running through the smooth fabric of my pillow case. My nose

sniffled the familiar scents of my pillows and my room. I was comfortable here, all I wanted was to doze off and sleep. And I would've dozed off, if it weren't for the annoying mumbling and the droning voices.

They were talking about someone. I wanted to look at them to see the faces of those strange voices. I strained my eyes open but they felt leaden and heavy. But that doesn't mean I couldn't see their silhouettes … maybe colors perhaps. One of them was a woman … in her fourties? Fifties maybe? The other one was a man. An aged man … he was wearing a white cloak. Maybe a tie? Is that a pen? That doesn't make sense … who holds a pen while wearing a cloak. They were talking about something … and someone.

They argued about some Andrew character. I kinda feel bad about Andrew. To have these strangers casually talk about him like they knew all about his life. The aged man has a stern voice. He was saying something like "Are you sure Andrew is taking his medicine? Does Andrew have any friends?" I would wanna be Andrew's friend. Then the woman was crying for some reason. She said something like "Andrew's getting worse. That he doesn't remember her or he doesn't love her." I get it. I wouldn't love such a weird drama queen. I couldn't see any reason why Andrew would do the same. She even said some stuff about being there all his life, taking care of him and how the guy in the cloak should have known about that. I mean … if she was taking care of Andrew all his life, Andrew should be the go-to person to ask right? Damn they're weird.

So I shook my head at their incredibly confusing and useless muttering, and sleep claimed peace to me.