Little kids ran out of their classrooms as I walked back from my last day of school. A year went by, slow and suffocating as each day passed, but when I turned around, it fades away and passed. Summer was here and it would be a matter of time until the temperature goes up as the Sun would blaze heatedly again. It would remind me of the tragic tale that would replay in my mind no matter how hard I try to forget.

Sometimes, maybe I just don’t want to forget.

A red helium balloon floated past me as I heard a little girl wail.

‘Mommy,’ she cried. ‘My balloon!’

I ran to the middle of the street and leaped high to grab the string of the balloon. Cars honked and screeched to a stop before it hit me. Ignoring their curses, I returned the balloon to the little girl.

Her Mother looked at me with her eyes wide open; shocked, angry. ‘Are you insane?’ she yelled. ‘You could’ve died!’

‘I can’t,’ I replied with a smirk. ‘There’s someone up there that wouldn’t let me.’

That was true. No matter how hard I tried; cutting my wrists, leaping off high places, I just couldn’t die. The pain will never fade away and I will always be reminded of that day.

Death was a funny thing, sometimes a bit unfair. One day Aaron was here, the next he wasn’t. I will wake up in the morning, eat my cereal and sitting by the kitchen counter, waiting for him to knock on the door.

Any minute now, he’ll come.

But I’ll eat my cereal, perched on the stool in the kitchen. It would be night time and I’ll still be there waiting for him to come.

But he never did.

Sometimes, out of the corner of my eye, I would see his shadow and spin around, my heart beating fast. But I always end up disappointed because, of course, he wouldn’t be there.

When I heard his name being called, I’ll still turn and look even though I know it wouldn’t be him. His every smile, every laugh, every frown will never leave my mind. It was hard, knowing that I wouldn’t see him again, that I wouldn’t wake up in the middle of the night because he was pelting pebbles on my bedroom window. That I wouldn’t have another call, another text, another kiss from him,

Mom and Dad always tried to be brave, to always smile at me encouragingly. I’ll give them a weak smile and retreat to my room. I’ll try not to cry, because it would be the last thing he would want me to do. I’ll try to convince myself that he never happened, that every single moment with him was just a dream.

But how can I lie to myself like that? No matter how hard I tried to forget, the memories were etched in my mind, never forgotten.

A few months after he passed away, I mustered enough courage to visit him. Roses in one hand, I made way among the rows and rows of tombstones in C.H. Wagner Memorial Hill until I reached his.

Vines curled around his tombstone like a frame, his name carved into it.

Aaron Eugene Grayson.

I left the roses top of the stone before sitting down in front of it, my fingers brushing against his name.

Sometimes, a sparrow will be perched on my shoulder when I was here. I would talk to him while it sang songs to me. Sometimes when I couldn’t help myself and cried, it would be perched on the tombstone cocking its head looking at me with its eyes.

Whenever I reached the bridge that connected the cemetery and the park, I’ll look down at the rushing water passing by. I would think of climbing over the wooden rail into the thunderous water but the sparrow will miraculously be there, pulling on my sleeve.

From then on, I figured that wherever Aaron was, he was watching over me, making sure I stayed very much alive, helping me cope with the pain without him there.

I’ll go to the park and sit on the swings without anyone behind me pushing. I’ll sit by the lake when I felt like crying because I missed him too much. I’ll sit on the benches eating ice cream alone, reminiscing the times he would hold my hand, how perfect his hand just fit with mine.

Once when I was sitting by the lake, my feet dipped in the cool water, I felt the tears rolling down my cheeks. I was sitting here when I first met Aaron. It was a relatively hot day so he ripped his shirt off and dipped into the water. I remember looking at him swim until he noticed me. He came over and that we hit off.

I was starting to cry really hard, with my tears mixed with the stray snot, when I felt someone touch me. I spun around, to see Aaron squatting behind me, his hand on my shoulder.

‘Aaron…?’ I asked in disbelief. Was everyone wrong? Was Aaron’s corpse…not him? My hand reached out to touch his face but it just went through him. The tears were still streaming down my face, and he frowned. His hand went from my shoulder to my cheek, wiping my tears away. His touch was cool against my skin, like ice.

‘Don’t cry,’ his voice was like a soft whisper, almost blending in with the wind.

‘Aaron…’ I whispered almost as softly. ‘I miss you so much,’ I sobbed.

He smiled a sad smile and hugged me from behind. I didn’t move, afraid that he will evaporate into thin air. His chin rested on my shoulder as he whispered into my ear. ‘I miss you too, Jess,’ His lips pressed softly against my neck.

It confused me, about him being there by my side… He wasn’t really there, but I just felt his presence, like a strong aura. His every touch was like a soft blow of air, almost not there.

‘Why did you have to go,’ I asked, the tears never stopped.

‘I don’t know,’ he whispered, trailing soft kisses along my neck. He stopped by my ear. ‘But promise me something, Jess,’

‘What?’

‘That you’ll be strong.’ He whispered into my ear.

‘I can’t, Aaron,’ I said, my hands itching to touch him but remained on my lap. ‘You’re not here,’

‘I am,’ his hand reached out to my chest, to my heart. ‘I’ll be here, guiding you.’

We remained silent for a few seconds, his words sinking into me. His touch on me was almost magical, like sparks flowing through my veins. I opened my mouth to reply but his touch was gone.

It was too late. He was gone.

Slowly, my hand reached out to my heart, the last place he touched. I smiled bitterly.

I’ll be here guiding you.

Just then, I heard a bird chirp. I looked down beside me to see the sparrow perched on a stone, its eyes looked at me as though it could look into my soul.

I held out my finger for it to sit on, and I brought it in front of me.

‘You’re following me aren’t you,’ I asked.

‘I don’t know if you’re Aaron or not but thank you for being with me.’ I sniffed. ‘I’m okay now, you can go,’

I held my hand high, jerking for it to fly away but it stayed there chirping violently at me, nipping at my skin. It circled around my head, giving out agonizing cries.

Until this day, the sparrow still followed me around. I left my window open at night, knowing that it’ll find its way here in the morning. It slept in its nest every night but somehow, it’ll be sitting on my window sill every morning when I wake up, chirping a good morning. Throughout the day, it’ll be following me, flying at my pace.

When I was at school, it would be on school grounds looking for food and coming back to my side when recess came. Whenever I cried at night when I started missing Aaron or had another nightmare about his death, it would come through my window and drop a red rose at the foot of my bed.

Deep down inside me, I believed that the sparrow was Aaron, watching after me, guiding me through the paths of life.

Yeah not continuing it lol I don't do long stories. I just felt like writing this. It's actually like sorta a spin off of this story on Wattpad. "Late Summer Rain" by AubreyEatsHearts. This is like, an edited version of that :P so, yeah. Not an original idea, but I guess I started being emotional reading that story cos it was so sad. When I was writing this, I was listening to MCR's "Cancer" and "Disenchanted" and I started crying hysterically lol I'm so weird.

SO YEAH. Bye. :P

CHAPTER FOUR

I can’t help feeling like this is a big joke, like we’re being taped for some show on TV. But we’re not. This is reality; Mom really is going to China, I really am moving in with Dad in New York, I really am going to transfer school, I really have to say goodbye to everyone.

But they give me only two days to say good-bye to everyone? I’ve been living here for sixteen years of my life; this place is part of me.

I have to say good-bye to Annie, my class mates, the school, Mrs. Johnsons’ dog that always poops at our front porch, Old Man Joe that bakes the best cookies, the house...

Speaking of which, what’s going to happen to the house? Do we sell it or do we just leave it vacant? Or did Mom found a renter and we have to move all our stuff away?

I buried my face in my pillows, inhaling the scent. Part of me feels pissed off because she told me in such short notice. But the other, more rational part feels okay with it.

How bad could living with Dad be right? Even if he left us for years...a father’s love never changes, right? And the job at China could do wonders with her career; I wouldn’t want to rip that way from her just for my selfish, teenager needs.

I felt a bit guilty now. Mom’s probably blaming herself right now. She’s been wallowing in grief for so long; did I really want that to happen again?

I crept down from my bed and opened the door. I tried to tip toe as soundless as humanly possible as I went downstairs. She was probably sitting there on the table, Dad sitting awkwardly across her.

I poked my head into the kitchen to see her looking down at her untouched dinner and guilt panged in my chest. Creeping up behind her, I wrapped my arms around her, inhaling her mom-ish scent of her hair. Like her lemon shampoo and another unique Mom scent.

‘I’m sorry Mom,’ I mumbled into her hair. I felt arms envelope me into a hug from behind, I assumed it was Dad.

I felt her hand touch my forearm. ‘It’s going to be all right, Case.’

I let go of her as she turned around. Dad from behind added his two cents to this whole family moment. ‘Yeah, you’re going to love New York,’ he said cheerfully. ‘The apartment is amazing, you’re gonna love it.’

I pulled my suitcase with immense effort, trying to keep up with Dad’s long strides. I cursed under my breath for being born with short legs.

I’ve already said good-bye to everyone. Annie didn’t take it very well and cried the whole day. We had a farewell party at her backyard with all of our closes friends. We laughed, reminisced, ate, cried and basically had the time of our lives.

But in the end, they all gave me a huge surprise. It was a scrapbook full of memories I’ve had here with them. My crafty friend Kate made it last minute and everyone pitched in the photos they could find. It was beautiful, decorated with pretty stickers and handmade decorative flowers.

Every page was a new surprise, a new colour scheme. It had birthday parties, school photos, outing photos, and even embarrassing ones. Like the time I was at Lucy Grayson’s birthday party and my panty hose started dropping down to my knees. I was mortified when Bill told me he took a picture. I tried to bribe him to deleting that embarrassing photo but he stubbornly refused.

One day I’m going to get back at him for that one. My face in the photo was completely twisted and my hair was messed up. I looked like some retarded mad woman trying to pull her panties up.

‘May all passengers for flight NYC2401 please proceed to gate A, your plane has arrived. May all passengers for flight NYC2401 please proceed to gate A, your plane has arrived. Thank you.’ The voice boomed from the speakers.

‘Oh good, it arrived.’ I muttered under my breath. Dad helped me carry my bags as we go through all those customs crap we have to go for. Once they confirmed that we are not terrorists who plan to bomb the plane, we reached gate A to find a long queue ahead of us.

There had to be at least three hundred people in front of us, it was that long. After an agonizing amount of time, we boarded the plane and Dad let me sit on the aisle seat.

‘Hey Dad,’ I poked his arm.

‘Yeah?’

‘How long is the flight?’

‘About an hour and a half I suppose, why?’

‘Just wanted to know how long I have to endure sitting still.’

He chuckled as he pulled out the airplane magazine on the seat pocket in front of him. ‘You were never one to sit still.’

True that. School is agonizing enough for me, sitting down having to focus on some boring old teacher reciting something from the book. Like, hello? I can read too, I don’t need you to read it out loud.

I pulled out a book –Pride and Prejudice - from my shoulder bag along with a bag of chips I bought at the Duty Free shop here. Lays, my favourite.

I love Pride and Prejudice, my copy was old and tattered from all the leafing through I’ve done. I can really relate to Elizabeth, you know?

I have read almost half the book when the plane landed. Tucking it back into my bag, I waited until we were safe to go. I looked out from the window to only see a big space of...cement.

Sighing, I hitched my bag on my shoulder and stood up with the rest of the passengers. ‘New York, here I am.’

Kinda short, sorry :/ nothing much to say in this chappie lols basically she accepted the fact that there's nothing she can do and she kinda forgiven her Dad I guess.

Whatever. Thanks for reading :)

CHAPTER THREE

‘So...you’re telling me you invited Dad here.’ I was still feeling sceptical about the whole thing. I always visualised them cringing in pain whenever someone says their names...guess not.

‘Yup,’ she threw behind her shoulder as she walked into the kitchen.

I followed suit, determined to get to the bottom of this. ‘So when are you going to tell me why?’ I asked as she stood on tip toes opening the cupboards and looking in.

‘Hmm...I think I better go grocery shopping, we don’t have much to cook,’ she frowned, totally ignoring my question. That is so like her.

‘Mom,’ I whined. ‘Tell me!’

She turned to look at me, annoyed. ‘Tell you what?’

‘Why you invited Dad back here!’

‘Why not?’

I was taken aback. Did she knock her head really hard and got amnesia or something? ‘Well, ‘cause he left? ‘Cause you guys are divorced?’

‘I don’t see why I can’t invite my ex-husband to a friendly dinner.’

She was acting calm, but I know better. You can always tell she’s nervous by just looking at her; her eyes are a dead giveaway. She wasn’t telling me something.

‘Uh huh,’ I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘So when are you going to tell me the real reason?’

I stood in front of the mirror, frowning to myself.

What do you wear to a dinner at home, except you have a guest? And that guest happens to be your father who divorced your mom and had been on hiatus for four years?

I looked at the alarm clock sitting on my bedside table.

5:50pm

Great, I have ten minutes until he arrives and I’m still standing here in my underwear.

Maybe I should wear something smart, like that white blouse and the pencil skirt Mom got me.

No, who wears that to a dinner at home?

‘Urgh,’ I groaned to myself. I opened my closet and peered in. I never shopped that much, unlike Annie so I didn’t have a lot of options. Why didn’t Mom tell me earlier anyways? At least then I’d have time to shop for clothes.

Giving up, I pulled on a bright yellow shirt and a pair of my favourite dark-washed skinny jeans.

After all, you can never go wrong with skinny jeans. That’s why I love them so much, they’re so versatile and comfy!

I was applying a coat of mascara when the door bell rang.

‘Shit! CASEY WILL YOU GET THAT?’ Mom bellowed from downstairs. Still cooking, no doubt. Mom always had a very bad sense of timing.

I sprinted downstairs and examined myself in the mirror we have at the hall. Quite useful when someone’s at the door you want to impress.

I opened the door to see him standing there holding a bouquet of flowers – yellow roses, Mom’s favourite. He still remembered?

‘Hi, Casey,’ he smiled, his eyes crinkling. This is awkward, do we hug?

‘Hey,’ I gave him a small smile. ‘Come in,’ I changed positions so he could come in. I noticed that he still had a head full of hair, black with white strands here and there.

Mom in her apron that says Kiss the Chef came barrelling out from the kitchen, spatula in hand, her eyes wide open. ‘You’re here! Dinner’s about to be ready, come to the dining table!’ She turned to me and said, ‘Case, set up the table.’

Chuckling, Dad went into the dining room that’s technically in the kitchen too, except we separated it with a cupboard so it looks like two rooms. Mom and I usually just eat at the kitchen island though, so the dining table was hardly ever used.

I put the roses in a vase I found somewhere and left it on the kitchen counter. Taking out Mom’s prized china and silverware, I set the table for three.

Soon, Mom arrived with dinner – steak with mashed potatoes. She calls it her specialty but I call it the only thing she can cook. Most of the time she’s so busy at work we just order take out from the Chinese place.

We both agreed that it’s the best choice, seeing as how we were both hopeless in cooking. Dad used to be the chef as he is one.

‘Dig in!’ she said, as she sat down opposite Dad.

Awkward.

‘So Mom,’ I said mid-chew. ‘Are you going to tell me now?’

She blushed and continued chewing her food agonizingly slow. ‘Um, well.’

‘Yeah...?’ I prompted. I’ve been waiting for too long, curiosity was burning in me.

‘Casey, the thing is,’ she said, looking at me sadly. ‘My boss offered me a job.’

Her boss offered her a job, so she invited Dad to dinner to celebrate? Um, I think not. It’s not like it’s the first time she got offered a job anyways.

‘Did you take it?’

‘Well, the opportunities were too much for me to put down and –’ she looked at Dad, pleading with her eyes to back her up.

Putting down his fork, he sighed as I looked at him curiously. Will someone just tell me what’s happening already?

‘Your Mom got offered a job that can bring a lot of opportunities for her, Casey.’

‘Yeah, I gathered that much. So will someone just tell me the point already?’ I was starting to get annoyed. Jeez, if you want to tell me something, just get to the point!

‘I accepted the job, Casey.’ She said, her face taking up a worried expression.

‘Oh, so where is it?’ I was thinking maybe Washington DC or Hawaii or something. It can’t be that bad right? One month, tops, right?

‘China.’

I started choking on my food by then. Their eyes widened as they got up to pat me on the back. I was still spluttering and coughing when it went down but that didn’t get the shock to go away.

China?!

‘I took a job at China, Casey dear. And the job requires me to stay there for a year – or more if they like me.’

She’s going to China for a year or more.

This has to be a joke.

But it isn’t.

‘And this is where I come in,’ Dad offered, smiling encouragingly. ‘You’re coming to stay with me so I can keep an eye on you.’

‘Where is it, exactly? Where do you live?’

‘Um, not far...’ he said nervously.

‘Where?’

‘New York.’

So Mom is going to China for a year (or more) and she’s leaving me with Dad who lives in New York, right on the other side of the country.

‘When?’ I asked.

‘Today’s Wednesday, so you have two days to say good bye to your friends. I’m leaving on Sunday so you’re leaving on Saturday.’

So Mom is going to China for a year (or more!) and she’s leaving me with Dad who lives in the other side of the country. And I’m leaving on Saturday, two days away.

And she tells me now.

‘Are you kidding me?’ I was on the verge of tears now, angry tears mind you. ‘You’re going to China for a year and you tell me now? I only have two days to say good bye? Thanks, Mom. Thanks a lot.’ I spat.

She was pale in the face when I excused myself from the table and ran upstairs to the kind embrace of my room, my sanctuary.

I can’t believe this is happening to me.

:) thanks.

CHAPTER TWO

I wiped my tears away with my shirt sleeve as my grip on the steering wheel tightened.

I have to calm down some way or another or I’ll get myself in a car accident. What do they all say? Breathe?

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

I soon found myself in front of my house. I parked my car and got myself in. I threw my keys to the bowl at the hall and ran upstairs into my room.

My room was always my sanctuary from it all, ever since Mom and Dad started fighting. I collapsed on my bed and buried my face in the covers and breathed in the soothing smell of the fabric softener.

But no, I didn’t cry. I just lay there, focusing on my breathing.

Why did he come back?

Did he think he can pop back in my life after all these years?

But there’s the biggest question in the whole thing that has been burning in my mind.

Do I forgive him?

I mean, sure he left us. But I’m quite sure he had an explanation for that. He was having a bad time with Mom and even though they never said anything about it, I knew something was wrong.

I was just too afraid to ask.

But everything happens for a reason, right? Maybe if I can sit down with him and just listen to what he has to say, I’ll know why they argued, why he left.

After all, he’s only human.

I sat up on the bed and fished a box from underneath my bed. I blew the dust away from the box like the movies only to make me sneeze and cough.

How do they do it in the movies without having a reaction? When I blow the dust away from the box, my eyes burned and I started coughing and wheezing.

Guess not everyone can have a glamorous life, huh?

I opened the box to see an old photo album lying there.

I smiled to myself as I looked at the cover. I decorated the cover with Mom when I was five. We spend the whole afternoon sitting on the dining table gluing ribbons and paper cut outs we got from the craft store.

Dad contributed by staying away because he was completely hopeless with craft. I’m not kidding; he tried to help us cut and glue but only managed to ruin his pants. So, he just sits there on the chair looking at us work.

Those were the days when they didn’t fight, and we were all happy, when I used to steal them kissing in the kitchen and when they used to hold hands when we went out.

I opened the album and saw a photo of us at the beach. Dad was the photographer. Mom was in a black one piece sitting under the shade reading while I built a sandcastle beside her.

The following photos were of us in different places, doing different things. When it was my first Christmas and Dad held me by the waist while I put the star on the tree, I chuckled to myself as the picture resembled the part where Simba was held in Lion King.

There was a last picture pasted on the back cover of the album. It was the three of us, Mom, Dad and me.

Tears trickled down my cheeks as my thumb brushed the photo.

I’ve missed those days. Where I could cuddle in my parents’ arms, where I could feel safe in both of their embrace.

And now? Mom’s too busy working to feed us and Dad wasn’t there.

My tears were about to dry up when I heard the door opening from downstairs. The house was so quiet I could hear just about anything.

Oh my God, what if it’s a burglar?

I cursed internally to reclining the self-defence class Oakley High had once. I went to my closet and got out an emergency wooden stick.

What? You’ll never know when a burglar will choose to come into your house! Better be on the safe side and have a legal weapon nearby just in case.

I might not know any self-defence moves but it doesn’t take a two year old to know how to hit someone with a stick right?

Unless they have a gun...

Oh my God.

Trying not to breathe too loudly in case the intruder hears me, I slowly stepped down the stairs, praying that the boards don’t creak.

Just my luck that the floor boards did creak. I held my breath, looking down to check if the intruder noticed. Fortunately, no one was in sight.

I continued down stairs as fast as I can, my grip never loosening on the stick held close to my chest.

I stuck close to the walls, tip-toeing towards the kitchen. I poked my head in.

Empty.

Still clutching the stick close to my chest, I made my way to the living room.

Empty.

Furrowing my eye brows, I held the stick to my side. Maybe I heard wrong, maybe no one’s here to rob my house and probably sexually harass me.

Or maybe the intruder heard me coming down and is hiding in the basement right this very minute.

I raised the stick to the front of me again as I eased my way towards the basement. I was nearing it when I felt a hand fall on my shoulder.

‘AAAH!’ I screamed, dropping the stick in the process.

‘Oh my God, Casey!’ the owner of the hand yelled.

Wait, the voice sounds familiar. Slowly, I turned around to see Mom standing behind me with an eye brow raised.

Oh, it’s just Mom.

No burglar, no rapist.

I let out a sigh of relief as Mom started tapping her foot.

‘Well,’ she said. ‘Aren’t you going to explain yourself?’

‘Explain what?’ I asked. What could I possibly do wrong?

‘What you’re doing at home when school lets out in another,’ she looked at her wrist watch. ‘Two hours?’

‘Oh,’ I let out a nervous laugh. ‘Um, it’s a half-day?’ I smiled up at her, hoping she’ll buy it.

‘Is that so?’ she asked, not buying the excuse at all. ‘You know you can’t lie to me, Casey.’

‘Oh, all right,’ I sighed. I’m a terrible liar, ask anyone and they’ll give you an affirmative answer.

‘I’m waiting,’ she said, tapping her foot in an intimidating manner.

‘Well, the thing is I kind of freaked out.’

‘Freaked out about -?’

Sighing again, I dropped my gaze to my shoes. ‘Dad showed up at school today.’

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I know.’

She knows? AND SHE DIDN’T TELL ME?

‘You know? How?’ I asked disbelievingly. Had they been staying in touch? I furrowed my eye brows as I tried to remember any mysterious phone calls or letters.

‘Well, I told him to come. Didn’t expect him to turn up at your school though.’

Right.

My Mom invited Dad to come back.

My Mom invited Dad, who left us for four years, to come back.

What’s next? Bradley Cooper showing up on my doorstep begging for my hand in marriage?

Psh, like that’s going to happen.

Well, here's Chapter Two for you! :) stay tuned for the next oneee :>