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Hi, my name is Maia
Williams
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 | Finding Maia- Part One |
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 4.56 with 9 vote(s)
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| Created: 2009-01-06 19:23:29 |
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"This is the message of Christmas: We are never alone."
~ Taylor Caldwell
**
Late autumn sunlight gleamed in through my double-pane windows, creating a pattern on my carpeted floors. I groaned in protest to getting up, but I threw off my covers anyway. Saturday mornings were the worst part of the week in my opinion, even worse then Mondays, just because of the fact that I never feel like getting out of my bed. However, this Saturday was different. I was going to see my dad at the hospital.
I took a quick shower, and then ran a comb through my hair. Letting my hair dry naturally, I pulled on a pair of jeans and a tank top. I slipped on a pair of slippers, and padded down the hallway to the kitchen.
"Good morning, Maia." My mother said to me as I entered the room. I glanced up and smiled, then slid two pieces of bread into the toaster.
My mother, Caroline, was a simple woman of 49. She owned a popular daycare downtown, and loved children. She met my father at the 11th grade homecoming dance, and they were married at the young age of 25. I was born when my mother was 33, and Chris was born 5 years later, when she was 38. With her dark blonde and light brown hair and shining gold eyes, my mother is very pretty for someone almost considered "over the hill". Lately, however, she's been developing heavy circles under her eyes and worry lines on her forehead. If you ask me, I think she's doing a great job managing a family, running a daycare, and having an ill husband, all at the same time.
My toast popped, and I plucked it out, dropping them on a plate. I grabbed the jam and butter out of the refrigerator, perched myself on one of our bar stools, and started lathering my toast. Looking ahead, I watched Chris toss pieces of Cap'n Crunch into the air and try to catch them in his mouth. He wasn't very successful, and was making a mess. But what else can you expect from an 11-year old?
Christopher, called Chris, is my annoying little brother. Somehow, he always managed to seem angelic when my mother was watching. Those who have brothers understand- they can be the evilest, most malevolent person ever, but in front of adults he's perfect and like a gentleman. I suppose I could say that for everyone though, but you know what I mean. He even looks like an angel, with my mom's dark blonde hair that has no brown yet, and a little plump. Somehow though, he always helps me out at the most perfect times. I swear, I'll never understand this kid.
I munched on my toast, savoring the taste. My mom glanced up at me from the paper and said, "Oh, Maia, Devin called earlier this morning. He said he'll see you at five." My mom winked, and I rolled my eyes. She's decided that Devin and me will be a perfect couple, and she's always trying to play cupid. Mothers, I swear.
Chris managed to catch a piece of cereal, and he smirked at me. I stuck my tounge out at him, and then turned back to my mom.
"Thanks mom. He's bringing me to this concert in the park tonight."
My mom nodded, and then said, "What time will you be back?"
I pursed my lips and replied, "No later than nine probably."
She nodded, and then clapped her hands. Chris stopped in mid-toss and looked at her. "Today, we're going to visit your father, so be ready to go at 12-" I checked the clock on the stove. It said 10:56. "-so we can leave by 12:15. Now, Chris, I expect your best behavior. Don't point, or stare. And Maia, try and seem a little interested in your father, please."
Now, it wasn't that I didn't want to see my dad, I just didn't like seeing him like that. When I thought of him, I didn't want to think of him wearing a hospital gown and hooked up to monitors. I wanted to think of him playing Frisbee with us, or my mom and him sharing that "look". So, to avoid that happening, I try not to look at him. It makes my heart freeze when I see him, and I don't like that pain.
I just nodded, and put my plate in the sink and walked back down the hall to my room. My hair was naturally wavy, but I usually straightened it. Today, I wasn't in the mood to do much, so I just threw it into a low ponytail, that I then draped over my shoulder. I put my makeup on, and then sat on my bed. For the next hour or so, I texted Devin about nothing in particular. That's what is so amazing about him. We can talk about nothing for a long time, and stay amused.
The next thing I knew, I was hopping into my mom's silver Suburban, and driving to the hospital. |
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