Chpt. 1

I peek out the window sighing softy. God. Why is it that of all sicknesses i get pheuomonia? I cross my legs and prop my chin up on the ledge. I fidget nervoulsy, kicking at the pillows around me. I look outside again. "He's still not home... I wonder where he could be..." I slide off the couch slowly letting my butt hit the carpte with a soft thud.    Flattening my lips into a fine line, I scoot to the door and press my ear up against the mail slot. Breathing cooly against the metal, watching as my breath perspires over and over again until a hear a clicking sound. I freeze. My eyes darting around quickly, I peak out through the mail slot. At first I can't see anything through the rain and fog. Then i see something shifting around. I cough horendously, letting the slot fall with a loud clatter that echoes throughout the empty house like fireworks.    A house seems so much bigger when no one is running about and just as empty when there is. I hurl my fists aginst my mouth and try to cover the racket. During my coughing I could taste some warm liquid oozing down the bottom of my lip. It reminded me of when i was a child and how my Uncle Hardley would give me a penny everyday when he came over, to put in my piggy bank. Money was scarce for us then. You could say we were poor back then.     Anyways, I would run up to my room as soon as he handed me it and slide a chair under the door knob to keep anyone from coming in. Then I would pop that bad boy in my mouth like it was a pill and suck on it like it was the last jawbreaker on this godly earth. I had this weird thought that if I did this, making them shinier that is, that they would be worth more. I bit my lip lightly, causing a small, red bubble to emerge from the corner of my lips. I licked it away quickly, wanting to get back to my "lounging about", which I should have been doing to begin with rather then sneaking about.      If my mother caught me up and about she would murder me. She's so old fashioned when it comes to being sick. If she caught you even with a temperature of 99.0, she would automatically assume that you were and send you straight to bed, call the Nurse, wrap an extremely cold, wet towel around your ankles and a cloth on your forehead to bring the "fever" down. She'd also feed you every food in the dictionary if it was supposably said to cure your ailment. I snapped back from my memories when I heard a loud slam.   I lift the slot up once more, feeling the ice-cold metal stick to my skin.     I peak out again to see a man step out of a car. I watched as the frozen rain slapped away at what I could barely make out to be his dark blue and silver , 1957, Bel Air. I pressed my ear up against the hole and listened for that soft popping sound of an umbrella that would would tell me it was my savior that was home. You see, since I've been confined to this wretched house, I have run out of things to do. I've read my entire book collection, my sisters' book collection, my entire stack of homework, (which invetably could have saved me from this madness) and snooped through every nook and cranny there ever was or ever will be, in this entire house and then it happened.     I saw this beautiful car pull up in front of my house. (I know now it to be the Bel Air. I researched it.) Of course it was raining like usual. I don't think it ever ceases to. I'm actually quite surprised that the ground hasn't just up and eroded from beneath us, leaving us to float away to some god foresaken place. (Pardon me lord.) Anyways, I saw this lovely of a stature of a man step out from within. I instantly fell in love with him. It was like my eyes had melted out of their sockets and I was looking upon a god. I couldnt see his face, only his backside, but god it was a amazing backside.     I never do. He always comes home so late and it's usually raining or it's foggy, but I can tell he's a good man. He walks with such grace and poise. He looks like he could be a runway model. Maybe that's what he is. I don't know what else he could be. I've yet to see him in anything other than street clothes when he comes home or leaves home. Maybe he's rich and doesn't have to work. It would explain the car, but not the apartment that he lives in next door to us. We could live in a two story house thow. With blue shutters and a red door. Wouldn't that be grand?     I bent lower till I was eye level with the slot. All I could see ws his shadow and a yellow umbrella. I have become so infatuated with that color and gotten quite good at drawing umbrellas. Having so much free time added to this, but all I draw is his shadow in charcoal and his umbrella in pastels. My mother asked in my room all of a sudden and I just told her it was a fad at school right now. She asked why they would pick such a horendous color. I grimaced and shrugged my shoulders. I nearly jumped at her face and clawed her eyes out for saying that. It's not that bad really. I don't know why people complain about it. Then she brought up the whole umbrella thing.      I hadn't thought of that one. I just said it was oe of those "things" and commenced drawing again. She just stared at me for a good 30 seconds until she finally said, "Oh sure. Of course. We did that all the time back in my day." She was one of those moms that always wanted to keep up to date with what was going on now-a-days, but didn't really know diddly squat, but played it off as if they did. Which they were usually bad a doing also. I breathe slowly and snorted. When I had breathed I inhaled this lil fuzzle that had been blowing on the corner of the hinge.      I covred my mouth quickly to hide the sound, but it was to late. He turned around and called out, "Hello?"