Wake Up Calls

In a city like Saint John, at a time like Spring, many people are receiving their Winter-Wake-Up-Calls from hibernation. Spring cleaning has once again come around, the snow has all melted, the birds have returned and people are waking up to smell the roses.

Our wake up call back to life is felt very strongly during this early-Spring time, but are we heeding the wake up calls we are handed day to day?

As a younger, less experienced, immature girl, I remember thinking a lot. Not just your normal run-of-the-mill thinking either, I thought deep, long and hard about every possible subject. At one time, I pondered wake up calls. I contemplated what it would take to "wake up" some people, to give them some sign that some of the choices that they made in life were not always the smartest ones.

Sometimes it does take something drastic, some desperate measure of the fates.

My cousin, a chain smoker, had a wake up call the other month when she found out she had possibly terminal lung cancer. She has not touched a cigarette since, but the damage has already been done. My Uncle, a wonderful man and a great father, had the wake up call of his life when his wife packed up and left him for someone else.

A while ago, I used to hope some people would receive their wake up calls. I used to hope that some people would stop doing the things that they did.

Actually, I just wished they'd stop altogether without having to have the disastrous wake up I had in mind. But for some people, it was the only way. And although my bullies never received their life-changing moment I desperately hoped for, after time, they moved on to bully others.

Leaving me to think, does it have to take a school shooting, bombing or suicide to show us that we can hurt people beyond all measure? We can destroy their souls, their minds, their drive for life. We can, and do, destroy people until they get to the point where they truly feel they have nothing to lose.

I found myself thinking all this over again last night, as I lay in bed on the phone.

"Do you ever just think to yourself, next year, I'm going to do everything right. I'm going to do my homework, go to class on time, be nice to everyone and eat healthy?"

"Of course," He says. "But there's a difference between thinking something, and doing it. And I would need a pretty big wake up call to completely change my life around like that."

Right. Everyone does. We're all just living our lives the way that we do, completely unaware that one day, a life changing event will come along and blow our socks off.

I think I got mine.



In a city like Saint John, at a time like Spring, many people are receiving their wake up calls. Your actions will not go unconsequencial. Someday, some time, somewhere, there will be a price to pay.

Small World

Someone named my blog, "Blog Title of The Day" !

Damn Practical

It's those fatal words she says to me as she gets ready to go out tonight.

While sucking in her stomach and choosing out jeans, she looks over, and ever-so-non-chalant, says, "Do you think this old body of mine could handle another baby?"

I'm shocked, and most, utterly disgusted. My mouth hangs open, as in my head I try to remember mom; twenty-six, and pregnant with Lissa.

As I catch my breath, I manage to spit out, "Don't ever say that again!"

"What? Woman older then my age are having babies all the time now!"

"Yea, and then those babies are stuck with old moms!"

"I'm not old."

"But you will be."

"I'm not saying I'm going to Katelyn, but mind you, if the chance presents itself, I wouldn't mind another child."

"With Blair, right?"

"Who else would I be popping babies out with?"

"It's great how you just act like it's no biggie Mom. No biggie, just another child to add to the already screwed up enough Andrews Family! We aren't even really Andrews, we're like Doyle, but not! Maybe like Morris? No, Aucoin? Will we be Morely now that you have your whole future planned out with Blair?"

"This sounds like that talk I had to have with you when you were four," Mom mumbles as she lies on the bed, zippering up her jeans. "You know, in the eighties, if you had to lie down to do up your jeans, then they were the right size, but if you could do them up standing up, they were too big."

"Thanks for that tidbit of information."

"Just like I can love you and lissa, I can love another child. And it won't matter that much anyways. By the time I have another baby, you'll be off and gone."

"Well, that's what I said when you asked me if I thought Blair would make a good stepdad. I said it wouldn't matter because I'm not going to be around much longer anyways and you told me not to be ridiculous, but it's ok when it comes to a possible half-sibling?"

"Yeah Kate. Because you're outlook on life sucks so much and your outlook and everything does, the only time you're ever going to be happy is when you're gone off to school and out of my life forever, never looking back to talk to me again, right?"

"God only hopes," I mumble as I peel the nail polish off my nails.

"And I'm just going to pay for you to get there and for everything else too! But you'll be damn glad to be rid of me and everyone, right? Because everything and everyone make you miserable Katelyn. You are a miserable, selfish, human being."

Then she slams the door to the bathroom, unable to hear my last few remarks in response to her.

Another baby? Over my dead body. No spawn of Blair-Satan will cross the threshold to my house while I'm alive. And that is not being selfish, that's just being damn practical.

You're The Kind of Person I Hate

The ones that think they're better then everyone else. They prance around like they've never done anything wrong, never had a down day, never been made fun of, never had a good cry. They think that just because they have looks or possibly popularity that that serves as wholesomeness, well it doesn't.

I hate the kind of person that thinks so highly of themselves that they act like you should feel privledged to be even talking to them, to have even wasted a moment of their time. I hate the kind of person that laughs at other's mistakes, that mocks other people for their flaws, that think they can do no wrong.

A lesson we all learned long ago is that everyone is unique, yes, but equal.

You're the kind of person I hate.

You act like you've never made a mistake, like I'm the only one to have realized I've been wrong.

Everyone makes mistakes, you've made your fair share too. Yet you sit there, on this pedestal you built yourself and barade others.

Does it make you feel superior, I wonder? If not, then why? Afterwards, do you relax and think to yourself, a job well done? Another life, destroyed?

I used to have faith in you, I watched you grow, I watched you live and learn. I thought, of all people, that you would learn to treat others equal.

This isn't about them anymore, this is about you. This is about how you've treated people in the past.

This is it all coming back.

How do you feel? Justified in your actions still? Is it still ok when it happens to you?

Forgive and forget, or live with regrets,
Because it's time to move on,
Forgive and move on.

You're the kind of person I hate. And for years now, I've been seeing it all wrong.

Amazing

It's amazing how fast things change.

Just when you've reached the point of not even being able to remember what warmth feels like, the snow melts away and the birds come out.

Today, for the first time, I noticed spring.

It sunk down into my very bones, causing me to feel the sudden need to not wear a coat or to put on my flip-flops instead of my sneakers. Then again, Canadian winters are so long and harsh, I'm pleased with even a mildly cold day.

It's amazing how fast things change.

Just when you think there might be hope for the world, that we may all be making a team effort, you get hit with another shocker.

There was a bomb threat at Saint John High. I suppose it probably didn't affect me as badly as it would have had I been there, but still, to think they are only down the hill, to think of all the people there that I love and care for.

Then, on the other hand, I feel for who ever's life was so terrible that they felt that was their only way out. I'm sure we've all felt down in the dumps, but hurting other people is not the answer. When the whole world can stop this, this 'game' we're playing with other's lives, there shall be a thing we might be able to call peace.

You watch the news, you see the reports of the shootings and the bomb threats in other places. It's scary, but it doesn't affect you. I always felt so safe and sheltered from things like that in a small town like Saint John. But bullies and tormenting are everywhere. It will only be a short time before something happens that will really cause us all to take a close look at our actions and choices.

It's amazing how fast things change.

Amazing, how fast time goes by.

Amazing how life keeps going.

Split Second Decision

The moss was cool and spongy on her little tanned feet. Each time she put her foot down she got a bit more wet. Crickets sang in the distance, cheerfully, hauntingly, they knew why she ran, why she tore through the forest like an army was chasing her. She had been running for a long time, much longer then just tonight.

Far back she had lost her shoes, her purse, her coat. Far back she had shed anything that would weigh her down. She ran like the wind, dodging this way and that, many of times being struck in the face by a branch or a vine. It was dark, and hard to see. She wove her way through her obstacles, avoiding them at all costs. That was the way she worked, avoiding all obstacles at all costs.

He had not followed. Like many times before, he had not followed when she ran. But she knew, somewhere, somehow, he would catch up to her.

Then it would be up to her to do what she saw fit, and for once she would be in control of her life and decisions.

He had never made her feel in control. In her Father's eyes, he controlled her. He controlled her even now, causing her to flee. Causing her to leave her not-quite-perfect life for one of hardships beyond all belief.

She knew he wasn't chasing her, yet she ran like her life depended on it. She had never been able to run all those times he had cornered her, had hit her, had told her she was worthless, only good for one thing. She couldn't run then, but she could run now.

And nothing and no one would stop her.

Read What Happened Before.

The Homecoming

Jill grunted with the weight of her final suitcase as she heaved it into the back of the waiting taxi cab. She had to readjust it a bit to make it fit along with the other five, but in the end she managed to slam the trunk door down on top of it all.

"All set?" the cab driver asked as she fastened her seat belt. Her day had definitely not gone well so far, first a flight delay, now a taxi driver who wouldn't even help with her luggage. She sighed, loud and pointedly, and brushed her limp strands of red hair from her eyes.

"I'm going to Millidgeville. I'll show you the house when we get there."

It was a cloudy day. Not a speck of light shining through the deep, dense clouds. A slight haze surrounded the whole city and area. a slight haze surrounded Jill too, drawing her in.

It felt so good to be home, yet she still pondered her welcome back.
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"Ashlee, so help me god! I'm not coming up there! Get the hell out of bed, you have work to do!"

Ashlee groaned, rolled over, and shoved her head under the pillow a bit farther. Her plan being that she would hold out as long as possible before caving into her mother's demands. And, any extra sleep possible was a god-send these days.

The bedroom was dark, all the curtains closed tight so as to not let even a speck of light through. It was like an entire haze was surrounding her this morning, pulling her in. It almost felt muffled in there, like when you wake up to snow, and even before you see it, you can feel that it's going to be there.

"There's mail here for you, and I'm throwing it out if you don't come down here, now!"

Ashlee poked her head out of the pillows and blankets a bit. Had she heard correctly? Mail? But that would mean...

"I'm coming mom!" She jumped up, grabbed her robe and set off bounding down the stairs.

The twins sat at the kitchen table eating toast. Her older brother Henri was just making his way out the door, and there sat her mother in the midst of it all. Like one single image in a painting, like the only object not moving in a meteor shower.

"It's on the table," she said coldly, without even looking up from her paper. "There's no return address. I want you to tell me who it's from."

"Well gee, let me just ask the damn letter. Maybe it will tell me!" Ashlee snatched the envelope off the table and studied it a bit before tearing one end open. Plain, white envelope, typed address, plain white paper.

"I meant when you opened it Ashlee, don't be smart with me, I'm not in the god damn mood."

But by now Ashlee was already lost in the note. And she knew exactly who it was from.
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"I know, that's exactly why I said, why not the pink shirt?"

Rayelle walked out of class, surrounded by her 'friends' as always, or at least what she liked to call friends. Ashlee remembered when they had been friends, it wasn't even that long ago. But then again, so much had changed in the short time that Jill had been gone. So much had changed about this 'elle', this girl who she had always considered almost family. So much had changed. And now, just looking at her made ashlee feel a bit of hatred inside towards a girl who now treated her like a lower life-form.

"Can I help you?" Rayelle asked with a smirk as Ashlee stepped in front of her. With the new-found stillettos, Rayelle was a good foot taller then Ash now, even more intimidating, but Ashlee stood tall. With the army of bitches standing behind her, Ray was now powerfull, and she knew it. And Ashlee was only one.

you're doing this for Jill, she thought to herself. This is for Jill.

"Yes?"

"I need to talk to you in private Rayelle, it's important. So if you can take a moment out of your busy schedule..."

"What is it? I am busy."

"It's about Jill." Ashlee knew she touched a nerve, she could see it right across Rayelle's face. Her eyes seemed to bug out for a second, then settle back into place.

"What about Jill?" She asked, as she fought to regain her cool. The new rayelle was far too good to remember "old" friends.

"Like I said, it's private," and with that, ashlee turned on her heel and walked away. She was glad Rayelle couldn't see the look on the face, and Ash, the look on hers. She was fuming right to the tips of her bleached blonde dreads. How dare Rayelle Whittaker treat her, her former "best friend" like this? And how dare she act like Jill didn't matter?

"Ashlee, wait." She felt a tap on her shoulder. Rayelle had followed her, down the hall and onto the stairwell. Her eyes were a bit shiny. "I want to know what it is, I want to help."

"Oh really?" Ashlee started. "Because..."

"I know you're getting letters from her Ashlee, would you just please tell me what's been going on. Jill was my friend too."

"Was your friend? Oh, so now she's not? You know sometimes Rayelle, you piss me off so god damned much..."

"Where is she?" A desperate look flitted across Rayelle's face. "I need to know where she is."

"She wrote me a latter, I got it this morning." Ashlee sighed and looked down, almost incapable of telling Rayelle this top-secret information. "She's coming home, she said to meet her at my house tonight because no one will be home. And not to tell her Dad or anyone." Ashlee patted her side-pouch on her purse. "It says it all in the letter."

"Let me see that!" Rayelle made a grab for the purse, but Ashlee quickly turned to the other way.

"She told me not to show anyone, not even you!"

"God damnit, you're a priss, when are we supposed to meet her?" It seemed Rayelle was getting bored with this little meeting in good-time.

"Tonight, my house. She flies in this morning."

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by the time the cab pulled into the driveway, the street lights were on, the sun having past sunk behind the shadows of the mysterious clouds that loomed above. Jill shivered as she stepped out onto solid concrete. It had been quite a while, quite a long drive, quite an adventure, quite a night.

"Do you need any help with the bags Miss?" the cab driver called out of his open window. Jill could tell though, just by his tone of voice that he didn't exactly feel like helping her.

"I'm good, thanks."

"Have a good night then." and with that, he was off down the dark, curving road. She watched his taillights until he came to the intersection. She watched as his blinker came on and he made the turn back in the direction of the highway. The only thing that had somehow linked her to her life for the past eight months, gone.

She slowly turned around, looking straight at the house looming ahead of her. It seemed dark enough, not a light on that she could see on any of the floors. No noise or music, and it all seemed so 'peaceful'.

Leaving her bags at the curb, she slowly started to walk forward, as if in a trance, as if the house was pulling her closer. This was her house, or at least the closest thing she had ever had to feeling like a home. The night was dead silent, only the subtle tapping noise of her feet, walking up the front steps. Then the muffled noise of the doorbell sounding, barely, almost like a screaming girl being smothered.

She could hear the footsteps coming, almost feel the vibrations of their steps. She could see the reflections of the shapes behind the tinted glass, feel the anticipation as the screen door inched open.

But she was not ready for what stood behind it. She could not describe the feeling, that sinking feeling, the feeling of finally being defeated. She had ran, she had left it all behind, she had tried her hardest to let that be a chapter in her past. But it seemed no matter where she went, it was there. And there was only one word that could describe that feeling she felt right then.

"...Dad?"

Read What Happened Before.

Read What Happens After.