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Rated: E · Short Story · Other · #1695689
One of my first short stories
"I don't know how you can sleep with all the raucous going on outside your window. It is so unlike here. And living on the 14th floor? You've gotta be kidding me..." My mind trailed off as my mother ranted, once again, about my living in New York. It only added more to my daze as I sat on the window sill and looked down at the busy street. There was a pattern: Taxi, car, Taxi, car... "Anyway, how is school? You getting some art sold?"1

"School is great. My professor said I've got quite the imagination when it comes to writing. I just don't think it's my calling. As for my art, the only people interested are my old friends from high school." My fingers stuck in my son's hair. "Patrick, wanna say hello to grandmother?" He was 4 now, and he had his father's curly blonde hair. He wasn't wearing any clothes either. It wasn't the lush Irish countryside he was used to, but at home, in my quaint little apartment, we could pretend.2

"Hi Grandma." He spoke into the phone. "Grandma I'm 4 now. And mommy bought me a new coloring book. My mommy says I can send you a picture in the mail. I love you, too, Grandma. Bye." The smile on his face said he was glad to hear from my mom again.3

I took the phone back and said hello to check if she hadn't hung up.4

"How's my Patrick doing?" I could hear the love in her voice.5

"He's doing wonderful. Mom, I miss you. I'll be able to come visit in about two weeks. How's dad? Still fixing jukeboxes?" I thought about accompanying my father to his service calls.6

"I assume he's well. He hasn't stopped complaining about you not marrying Patrick's father." She let out a sigh. "But, he's a romantic and is glad that you're at least still with him. He believes your claim of true love." Yup, thats my father.7

"Well, mom, it's been nice talking to you, but I have to go now. Charlie is here. I love you."8

"I love you, too." From the other end.9

I picked Patrick up and kissed him on the cheek. "Let's go greet your father, yes?" A smile and a nod.10

"Hey, kiddo." He tousled Patrick's hair. "Hey beautiful." He said to me, then kissed me. He held us both close.11

Patrick ran to his room to play, leaving Charlie and me alone.12

"I have to wash dishes. Patrick wants to go the park later, and I don't see why not. It's a wonderful day." We walked into the kitchen with his arm around my waist. He helped me tie my apron, and then hugged me from behind then kissed me again, this time on the cheek. A quick squeeze and he left to go play with Patrick.13

"Marina!" He called from Patrick's room. "I can't find the boy's crayons." I slipped my hand into the apron pocket and pulled out the box. I didn't even know they were there. Charlie slid into the kitchen and took the crayons.14

"Thanks, babe."15

I missed Ireland. I loved it here, too, though. There was a significant difference in what I saw when I looked out the window.16

In Ireland, I could look out and see Patrick playing outside. He could go so far, and I would still have a perfect view of what my little boy was doing. I could watch the seasons change, and the day transition into night.17

Here in New York I could see into the apartment across the street. I could see their children throw each other around. When they left the living room, I'd lose sight of them. I could see the neighbors change, and the day transition into artificial light.18

I loved it here though. Living in a big city, where only a few selected people knew your business. I did miss my friends back in Ireland, but friends can be made anywhere.19

I was finally going to art school. I was good friends with my professor and we shared much more than my art. She often read stories of mine, and we would swap recipes, and she would come over every so often to watch a movie with the family.20

I went to school at night So I could have Patrick in the day, and Charlie worked during the day and would come home just in time to hang around with all of us. It was Sunday, so we had the rest of the day together.21

Often times I think about how Shelby is doing. If she ever became a botanist like she wanted. I haven't seen her since I left San Antonio 5 years ago.22

I'm 27, now, as Patrick would say. My last name is still Sanchez as I haven't married Charlie, and we don't plan on it either. I met him when I was still in middle school, but we didn't start dating until later in high school.23

I love New York. I was never fond of driving, and I enjoy walking places. Patrick likes it here, too, he says. One day, I told him, we'll move back to Ireland.
© Copyright 2010 Lola Pettigrew (lolafox at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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