Edited

CHAPTER 2

"I'm dancing with yesterday,
because today has lost it's charm"

- Nathaniel's Lyric Journal

MY FIRST FEW DAYS IN ALABAMA were just like I expected them to be: boring.

Why am I even here? I grumbled to myself, flickering through the channels on TV while stifling a yawn.

Coming back from my morning run, I explored the small house with little enthusiasm. Falling asleep was also met with little excitement as well. The silence outside in place of the typical loud noises I was accustomed to made it more difficult to sleep.

I eyed the boxes scattered all around the room, feeling too lazy to start unpacking. My head started to ring loudly when I saw my guitar sticking out from one of the boxes that the moving trucks dropped off, quietly calling out for me.

My hand was immediately twitching, remembering the many hours of testing different chord combinations, singing my thoughts away. My thoughts angrily shut down. Singing was more intoxicating than any drug I have ever tried.

I got up to open the flaps on the box to look at the familiar guitar.

The day I saw my mother dead was the day I put my guitar in a box and hid it to never be seen until now. She was the one who introduced me to singing when she made me join a choir when I was young. That part of me was part of her. If I closed my eyes hard enough, I could almost imagine her saying 'Tú estás dontado' with every performance I gave.

You are gifted.

I opened my eyes to put the guitar back into the box. 

And when she died, she took that with her.

Looking at the object next to my guitar, I pulled out a black notebook from the box to examine the leather-bound book in finer detail.

She gave it as a birthday gift a month before she passed. I did not give it much thought when she handed it to me. After all, it was just a black notebook.

'You should stop singing other's people songs' She said with a smile when I asked her why she got it for me. 'It's time to put yours words on the page'.

I opened the book for the first time to find an object that was taped inside the cover. It was a bracelet with green, white, and red stripes that were seamlessly woven together. I pulled it off from the notebook, feeling the rough material under my fingertips.

'That's to remember who you are' she explained when she opened the cover of the notebook to show it to me.  Mom had always been to be Mexican- with the bright stripes representing the colors of the flag. Growing up in El Barrio part of New York City and her determination to make sure we were raised like she was in Mexico instilled our heritage, even though I was only half.

This was the last gift she gave me.

Now suddenly a prized procession, I wrapped the bracelet around my wrist and tied the loose ends together before I returned my attention to the notebook. 

I traced the outer edge of the page before I flipped it to the first page. It was a cream-colored page, black lines standing boldly in front of me; Lines that were meant to contain my feelings, my words.

It could be anything.

What am I suppose to write, Mamá?

An influx of emotions overwhelmed me, so I grabbed the nearest pen, jotting down the first thought that came into my mind.

Differences between New York and Alabama

-It is so quiet in here, I feel like I am only here with my thoughts

-there are no sidewalks, trains, or busses....if I don't have a car, I'm fucked

-No buildings and everything closes early

-Alabama is hot as shit

-Mom isn't here

I crossed over the last point until I could not see the truth the minute I wrote the last bullet. The black ink bled through the page, like the darkness that was ripping through my heart. I took a shaky breath, physically feeling the torment rip through my being at the painful reminder that a part of me was gone.

Then, I heard the doorbell.

Not expecting anyone, my head turned rapidly towards the red door. My body warily crept towards the entrance, slowly leaning in to open the front door.

A young guy around my age came into my view, standing on porch and smiling at me uncertainly with a tin box in his hands. He was wearing a light-colored shorts and a blue shirt, making his bleach blonde hair appear lighter.

His blue eyes were familiar to me, but I could not pinpoint them.

He stuck out the tin box.

"Hello! I got you some cookies to welcome you to the neighborhood," he greeted with a light Southern accent. 

I took the tin box gently, too exhausted to say anything more besides a hoarse thank you. My focus was only on his eyes. Despite my silence, he continued to talk. His voice was deep, but my mind was too preoccupied to focus on his words.

His voice did not distract me from his familiar face.

A very familiar face.

Every thought that crossed my mind suddenly disappeared.

"David?" I asked him curiously.

The stranger stopped talking, and the corner of his eyes crinkled in amusement. His serious face suddenly turned into a familiar smile.

"Nice to know you recognize me," he responded. We did a hand shake and an awkward hug. A strange feeling swept over me, knowing that it probably had to do with the fact I haven't seen him in years.

"It has been a very long time," I stated, looking at David with disbelief.

"Agreed," David laughed. "Now that I can see that you are friendly, I can tell you now that the cookies were store bought anyways. I lied about making them," David continued with a grin and walked inside the house. I shut the door behind him, carrying the cookies into the living room.

I anticipated this reunion to be awkward, but it felt almost comfortable. Unfortunately, it was not comfortable enough for me to make my breathing even, my head slowly chipping away from the thoughts of her.

"How did you even know where I lived?" I couldn't help but to ask .

David turned his head as he sauntered his way to my couch.

"Your dad visited my house earlier today and suggested I should come by and say hello," David explained, kicking his vans off and placing them on the side. He sat down on my couch. "How is the rest of your family?"

I took a seat next to him. My body was still aching from everything that happened, but I know I should orchestrate an appearance in front of him.

"Well Camila is married-" I began quietly with my older sister before Dad interrupted me with a noise. His eyebrows rose with a sense of shock.

"Mila got married? If I recalled, that girl bit me so many times I had to get stitches," David muttered, pulling up his arm to gesture to the white scars that were on his tan arms.

A ghost of a smile appeared on my lips.

"You're nuts David," I chuckled softly at the memories.

"I usually like it when women bite me if you get what I mean," David began. I nodded, pretending I knew. "But not like that."

"Well there is just more than her. My younger brother Carlos is at camp and Dad is at work," I finished quickly, feeling the energy bleed out of me like a leaky faucet.

"So Mila is married and away. Carlos is at a camp. Uncle Chris is at work," David repeated, hearing it back. He looked at me with a smile, but this time, it was a melancholy smile.

My throat immediately closed.

I knew what he was thinking, and what he wanted to say. When he looked away to wipe his eyes, I felt the façade I put up began to slowly crack with anticipation. His eyes were shining with tears that he promptly pushed away.

Don't say it. Don't say it.

Dad declared it was not "healthy" to keep frequently talking about Mom. In fact, he insisted I should distract myself from the pain rather fixating on the pain to the point of obsession. Not sure whether it was because I did not want to listen to him, but a large part of me wanted to divulge these harsh feelings.

Enduring the pain made me feel close to whatever was left of Mom now.

It was the only thing I have left of her.

Ironically, Dad's coping was worse than mine. He decided to move to Alabama the day after Mom passed away without a second thought. Despite his attempt to reason with me, no reason was good enough for me for him to start working the minute after moving without seeing anyone and Mom gone.

I was not surprised that our family drifted apart when Mom was diagnosed. In fact, it was almost expected.

He started to disappear, as did the hope that I once had.

"I'm so sorry Nate for Aunt Anita," David finally said, addressing the one topic I was dreading to hear.

Too afraid to say anything, I shrugged.

"It's okay, David. Thanks," I whispered to him.

I took a shaky deep breath, not wanting to think about her. My thoughts were running through my mind and embedding into my sorrows.

David, who was not aware of these thoughts, asked, "What happened?"

I snapped my head to see the forlorn look on David's face made me angry.

Anger briefly flared in my stomach.

She didn't even realize who she was hurting when she left.

"Liver cancer," I attempted to respond coolly, allowing any leftover emotions to drain from my body. The familiar pang in my chest returned, but it was the consequence of not having good sleep for the past few days, staying up and thinking about Mom until I passed out.

It was half the truth. She did have cancer for over a year, but that was not the whole story. It was something I didn't want to share because the truth was still too raw for me to handle, let alone relay it to someone who I have not properly spoken to in over a decade.

It was one of those things that was hard to say with a straight face like doctors in drama TV shows do. I most likely would break down in tears at the thought of her death before even saying what happened.

So instead, I had to plaster a phony smile and pretend that my life was okay.

Or just convince everyone I wasn't going to go off the deep end.

"I didn't know that," he mentioned quietly.

My jaw slightly dropped.

"You didn't know what happened to her?" I elaborated, trying to ignore the flashes of memories that were coming into my mind. "There was a funeral and everything."

He shrugged, his cheeks flushing red because we both knew I did not see him at the funeral in New York. "Well the family isn't exactly close to me and my dad. I hang out with your cousins and all, so they told me what happened to Aunt Anita though after it happened. Life is not fucking fair though. I'm sorry, Nate," he apologized sadly.

I nodded.

"I know," I simply replied, running my fingers through my hair and refusing to continue this conversation.

We sat there for a few more minutes in silence. The idea of having a conversation right now was so exhausting.

I lifted my head and gave David a curious look.

He shrugged.

"Oh. I ordered a stripper to come," he responded casually, attempting to lighten the situation with a weak smile. Appreciating the change in the conversation, I rolled my eyes at his antics and got up to head to the door.

Last thing I needed was to have another breakdown right now.

"Take it easy. I was kidding! Have no idea who is at the door. Are all of you Yankees are so serious?" I heard David complain from my living room.

"Give me a second to get the door."

I opened the door to find a girl standing in front of me. My first instinct was to look at her outfit since her pink crop top that revealed her flat stomach and her denim shorts that shaped her thighs well. Her dark eyes and dirty blonde hair added to her nice looks as she was looking at me with a pleasant smile.

I blinked.

I hoped David was kidding when he said he ordered a stripper.

"Hello," she chirped cheerfully.

I blinked at her.

"Um. Hi?" I greeted with hesitation.

She stuck out of her hand. "I am Angela. I live in the house next door to you,"

I shook her hand slowly, pausing at her perkiness. It made me feel uneasy.

"Nathaniel. Nice to meet you," I greet with some relief.

And thank God you are not a stripper.

"I brought some baked pastries just want to welcome you to the neighborhood." She held up a red tin box and shook the contents for me. I took it and managed to show a grateful smile.

"Thank you," I responded, unsure what to do. My body still felt heavy and my breathing has become more even at this point. "That's very nice of you," I thanked her politely.

She gave me a small smile before flipping some of her hair behind her. When she smiled this time, it was not like before, but something in her eyes expressed something else.

"I like getting to know my neighbors out. Where did you move from?" she asked casually.

"New York City."

She nodded with approval. "Oh really? That's so cool. I could kind of hear it from your accent."

She tilted her head, never taking her eyes off me. Feeling the hair on the back of my neck prickle, I coughed awkwardly trying to fumble my way through this conversation.

Pull yourself together to talk to a girl, Nate.

"Thanks for the cookies. Did you make these?" I asked her curiously, wondering where the hell David went.

She nodded. "Yep, so I reckon you let them cool down for a bit. They literally just came out of the oven half an hour ago," she explained. Like David's accent, her southern accent became slightly stronger, fitting her overall look nicely.

"That's nice of you to think about me," I thanked her gratefully, still unsure how to react. My chest was aching from talking, and my mind was shouting at me to get out of this situation and just be alone. "I- I appreciate it."

It's just a girl giving you cookies. Relax, Nate.

"You're pretty cool yourself," she countered with a giggle. She gave me a quick grin before placing a hand on my arm. "I can help you make friends if you want. Show you around here. Introduce you to the town," she said in a deep voice. Her warm hand went up my forearm, slowly creeping up when she took a step forward.

I jerked back, her hand falling off my arm.

"That would be great. I use to come here a long time ago so it would be nice to have a refresher," I managed to say, using every bit of energy I had in my body.

Her eyebrows shot up. "Oh that's neat! You know anyone that I might know?"

"Well me for one," a voice said by the entrance.

I turned towards the sound.

Angela gasped when she saw David walking up towards the entrance. He looked at the girl before wagging his eyebrows. Her smile disappeared, and was replaced with a confused look.

"David? What are you doing here?" she asked at him with evident surprise. David look at her, and he rolled his eyes.

"He's my cousin. What's your excuse being here, Angela?" David asked with amusement, crossing his arms and leaning on the side of the counter. Angela turned her head to look at him.

Angela scooted away, laughing uncomfortably. She backed away slowly from the kitchen, looking at me.

"Just welcoming a neighbor, David," she bit back with agitation. She turned back to me with a smile. "Maybe I should come back another time. You seem busy. I hope to see you around though, Nathaniel."

I nodded quietly in a daze.

"Yeah of course. You know where to find me," I managed to stammer before she waved goodbye and walked down the stairs to my drive way to go back. When I shut the door in front of me, I heard David sputtering into hysterical laughter.

Turning around to the sight of him clutching his stomach, I asked, "What the hell just happened?"

"She was flirting, my dear cousin. You seem bad at it though," David snickered.

"Fuck off," I groaned at him, brushing past him.

I walked into the living room with David continuing to rant behind me.

"I was doing you a favor. I saved you," David proclaimed. "That woman only wants one thing from you. And it's not for your plucky personality, let me tell you that."

I raised an eyebrow. "What's her issue with you?"

David's cheeks turned slightly red. "Let's just say we might have a history. Everyone knows everything around here so other people will be hearing about this."

I snapped my head back at his direction. "How? I just moved in a few days ago."

"It's a small town, Nate. News travel fast here. You're not in the big city anymore."

You're not in the big city anymore.

A simple reminder that struck harder than any comment that he had said today.

"I guess I'm not," I finally said. "But what does the town want from me?"

David snorted, "Who the hell knows what this town wants from you. More importantly, who cares," He pats a hand on my back. "I would focus on Aunt Anita for now."

I nodded. "Definitely will do that."

David scratched the back of his head before continuing, "I'm not really good with these kind of things, and I know we haven't seen each other in a long time, but I'm here if you need anything."

I weakly smiled.

"Thanks David."

I felt some comfort in those words, unlike his previous ones. However, I couldn't connect with those worlds.

I hated this.

I wanted her back. I wanted my mother back more than anything right now. I hated the empty feeling that would not leave my soul. The panic feeling that frequently ravaged my body was killing me. Dad said leaving New York would help heal because we could get away from our neighborhood and memories.

She was the one who died, but I was the one that felt like the ghost.