True Typical Love Story

True Typical Love Story (TTLS) Chapter 4 - Alyx Dahl

True Typical Love Story
Chapter 4
Alyx Dahl

         Each morning seems to be the same recently. Waking up to find my perfectly tidy room deserted. My sister yells from the room beside mine, “Alyx! Should I wear this,” or, “Does this make me look fat,” and I kind of want to scream and tell her off.
         
You could say my life is pretty ordinary and not chaotic. Well everything except my mother’s illness. She was diagnosed with lung cancer a few months ago…
         
I slowly trudge downstairs and enter the kitchen, opening the freezer with slight difficulty. I ascend on my toes to try to reach the top shelf, which is somewhat frustrating because I’m kind of short. The chocolate ice cream was the first thing that caught my eye and in a few minutes had a small bowl of ice cream for breakfast.

         I quickly got my things together, going upstairs to wish my family a nice day. Shortly after I say good-bye I’m outside my house in the blazing, crisp summer day of Colorado.

         As I’m walking towards the school I faintly hear the ice cream truck in the distance and smile to myself. So many memories of my childhood with my sister come back alive whenever I hear or see the blue and silver rust bucket simply called, “The Truck.”

         School is easy in my opinion believe it or not. I timidly walk through the door, the morning bell rings as I walk past the first hall at Rock Canyon High. Hundreds of students rush towards me to get to their locker and I’m afraid I’d be trampled again (it has happened before) so I run faster.

         I end up at my locker, panting roughly as I attempt to use the correct locker combination. Obnoxious sounds were heard behind me and before I could realize I was shoved against my locker violently.

         “Haha, nice man,” and “Maybe the freaks should be thrown into the lockers,” were yelled out by the Lacrosse team. Devin Jacobson, the most popular guy at school, was the culprit. I don’t really care much for him but I have to blow it off or I’d be late for homeroom.

         Homeroom is pretty nice. It’s with Mr. Dunkle, the literature teacher, which is my favorite class. Writing helps me think and relax which I really need.

         The morning annocements went by quite swiftly as always, very uneventful to be honest.

         My day was pretty slow. Many horrendous encounters with the jocks, people talking about me behind my back, it hurts a lot but I can’t do anything except stay quiet and to myself.

         After school was over I returned home and went straight to my moms room to see how she was doing. Ever since she was diagnosed with the cancer her whole attitude for life dramatically changed. She only gets out of bed when she has to go to chemo and can be heard crying in her room alone almost every night.

         My father left my mom when I was around 6 years old. He ended up breaking her arm and fracturing 3 of her ribs. I remember the event in chilling detail and each moment I see her cry it breaks my heart. Now she’s a splitting image of me…bleach blond hair, a fragile body, unable to do anything but weep and sleep.

         I venture into my room to finish my homework from today. Straight A’s the whole year I’m planning on becoming valedictorian in the near future. It requires a lot of talking though and public speaking in general drives me crazy…

         I finished at around 8:00. I had nothing to do until dinner is prepared so I got out the poetry note-pad my mother gave me for my 14th birthday. It was nearly full with written thoughts verbally drawn on the slowly aging paper.

         I opened the book and found a blank sheet of paper, ready for it to be covered in soothing and flowing poetry. Before I started writing I plugged in my Ipod, which was occupied with music from the classical movement. I scrolled down my list to the band Skillet, which was probably the only ‘rock group’ I have ever listened to. They’re music helps me write since it’s filled with so much emotion and feeling.

         I found the song Lucy from their album Hero and started the song as I began scribbling in the tiny book.

Thursday Night

Our souls are slowly breaking
Mine seems to be crumbling in the opposite direction
The tears can only fall
After I hear her last and only call

The clouded sky is dimmed in the view of my imagination
Sparkling from the held back cries that keep me sane
No matter how much I suffer
She’s in the next room dealing with much more pain

And there’s nothing I can do
Just sit here beside myself
Wish, hope, sleep, and dream
Searching for an impossible way to help

         

I sighed as the chorus played for the second time. It was a beautifully crafted song I have to admit. ‘Now that it’s over, I just want to hold her, I’d give up all the world to see, a little piece of heaven looking back at me. Now that it’s over, I just want to hold her, I got to live with the choices I’ve made and I can’t live with myself today.’

         My tears, uncontrolled, fell onto the leather cover of the book. I was slowly breaking and I needed someone to fix me as soon as possible.

My sister enters the room, “Aly, it’s time for dinner,” So I finish up, disguising my tears and head back downstairs to find TV dinners and lemonade poured into 3 reused, plastic, disposable cups. I take one of the meals to my mother than finish my own. It was appalling but I ate anyway. My sister was doing the best she could.

         I head upstairs for the final time after cleaning the dishes and wished everyone a good night.