When the time comes Part 1

 Chapter 1 August 9, 2011

 

It was a sunny afternoon just like any Friday I have ever known, but something was different. Different about her. I could feel it let alone see it. Angel was quieter than usual today. the red hair I knew to be always done up in neatly braded pig tails, were now a flat mess on top of her head. Her bright green eyes some how dull and gray, stared in to the distance, not looking at anything. ”What’s gotten in to ya today my girl?” I asked. She just shrugged her shoulders. By  now I was getting worried, Angel wasn’t the type to hide things, especially from me. “Come on you can tell me.” I gave her a nudge. She looked at me. I tried to give her my best reassuring  smile, but her eyes seemed to look right through me. We sat in silence for a long time. All you could hear  were the crickets, no cars on the disserted road. With out Angel talking the place felt so empty. No neighbors for miles it felt as if we were on a diserted island. Here in Arnsvill, no one knew anyone. You lived for your self and/or your family if you had one. Arnsvill was always a quiet town. One of those small towns where you wouldn’t know if someone was breathing or face first in a puddel of blood. Usually people think that in a small town every ones sticking their nose in to your business, but not Arnsvill. If some rubber necker came snooping around my business I’d blast him a good one, make him forget his whole life. Don’t get me wrong, people here are nice and all, they just don’t care about your problems because they have plenty their own. Angel and I lived on the far northern side of town. The prettiest O’l  place you would ever see. The old fashioned farm house with a barn to the side, yeah we have it good I would say. O and the great big corn filed makes for a great view, from the back porch. For miles just corn, but it  is quite beautiful. That was where we were most our time, Angel loved it out there ever since she came here. Angel was a foster child until I  took complete  custody of her. The poor thing watched her mother and father get murdered when she was only  ten years old. She’s fifteen now, why do such horrible things happen to the innocent, better yet the young and innocent? I can’t begin to imagine what that felt like, but she never talked about them nor have I ever seen her cry one tear. Something is terribly wrong with her and I need to figure it out. I looked at her again, this time she seemed to be looking at something in the distance. I turned to see what she was looking at, but there was only the corn filed. “What is it child?” I asked turning back towards Angel. Her lips moved but no sound came out. “Speak up child I can’t hear a word your saying.” she just kept on talking, maybe to her self because none of her words were loud enough to be heard. Angel stood up, and walked into the house through the squeaky screen door that lead into the small kitchen. I didn’t bother following her, I just sat on the porch swing until the sun was almost hidden behind the thousands of rows of corn, finished my homemade sweet tea, and went on in. Angel was sitting on the loveseat in the family room, watching the nine o’clock news. That was something else strange, she never liked to watch the news with me. She always said it was to depressing. I stared at her for awhile . Then headed back towards the kitchen. As I walked away I heard the news lady talking about some massacre in Bossen, a town to the west of us. What a shame people have to kill to get attention, but personally I blame the parents for not giving them that attention in the first place. I pondered that though while mashing the potatoes for our meal. Maybe Angel was missing her parents. It could be that the past is back to haunt her, and she is realizing the horrific truth to her reality.  I will have to talk with her even if she doesn’t want to hear it. Give her the whole “life isn’t fair” speech father gave me when my mother died. Once I finished preparing our meal I called Angel to the table. She walked in slowly and sat in her usual seat, but didn’t touch the food. “Dig in my girl, you need to eat to make your bones nice and strong. You don’t wanna be like Ms. Messan do ya?” Ms. Messan ran the convinces store in town. Skinny as a stick no dog would ever chew on. She broke her arm just trying to lift some supply boxes to put them on a shelf, it was a sad sight. Angel worked for Ms. Messan. She done the bagging and cleaned up around the shop, she also helped with the heaver items  like the supply boxes. She never did it for the money, just to help. Such a sweet child she is. It makes me sad to see her so down. I don’t get it, what is wrong with her? I stared at her for what seemed like hours. All of a sudden she looked at me, and in a harsh whisper I could hardly make out she said “Its in the corn filed!” she shocked me, I wasn’t expecting her to speak at the moment. I blinked then asked “what is?”  Angel stood up quickly and walked out of the kitchen. I just sat there in shock. It was weird how her face hardened with every word  she spoke, and that voice. I have never in my life heard her talk like that. It sounded like a whole nother person. What’s in that corn filed that got her so worked up? She seemed so distant, like she was in some sort of a trance or something. The house was quiet, Angel must of went to her room. This silence reminds me of when I was seventeen and I was waiting for my mother to come home. It was a cool August night, and I was in the kitchen sitting at the small round wooden diner table in my night gown. I guessed mom was going to work over time at the dairy farm, so I decided to go back to my room. Just as I shut my bedroom door closed behind me I heard the kitchen door open. I turned back around and went back out towards the kitchen to greet my mother, but instead of her standing in the kitchen it was my father. I could smell the alcohol on him from where I was standing. His eyes were blood shout and watery. “Hello father” I greeted him. He seemed to just now notice me “June!”  he almost yelled my name. he rubbed his eyes with his sleeves, he looked like a little kid who was just beat. “June June June, my little June, my lovely little June.” he sniffled. “ what is it father” I was getting worried. “O June, where do I start.” He stumbled forward and sat in a chair. I then sat down beside him. “June” he started to laugh. “yes” I asked kind of annoyed now. “she’s dead”  he simply said with a smile on his face. “O yeah, who?” I didn’t believe him, this was the alcohol talking  not my father. “Cristy your mother.” his smile went away and his eyes watered up again. “This isn’t funny.” I was angry now, how could he joke about something like this? “ I wish it were a joke sweet heart.” he reached over and stroked my hair. by now the tears were building up in my eyes as well. ”what! how?” I still didn’t fully believe. “I don’t know” he laughed again. “ You don’t truly find this funny do you”  I screamed at him. “no” his voice slurred from the alcohol he had consumed earlier. He slowly put his head down on the kitchen table. I knew the conversation was over. My father was fast asleep. He left me alone with his hunting words. Was it true? Was mom really dead? I closed my eyes and I was back to the present. Tears were fighting behind my eye lids to get out, but I pushed them back because crying never helped anything. It was true and there’s  nothing I can do to bring her back now.