Summer's Journal: Sixth Entry
I miss Chris terribly. What a way to start a journal entry. I think I made him mad when I talked to him on the phone. He didn’t respond well to me rubbing my nails along his back so that he knew I was there -- thinking about him. He hadn’t called me since I was suspended. I tried to call him, but there was no answer.
Had I made him mad? I don’t even know that I did to make him mad. I’m such a fool. This journal should be called “Summer’s Insecurities”. I’ve so many. I’m not strong. I've no endurance. I’ve no willpower. I’m not even a powerful mage, I’m just a necromancer, I give dead things un-life, but they all have no soul.
Today I spent the day with my mother. She wished me to go the mall with her. I got dressed. Black panty-hose with high black boots, and a long flowing blacks skirt. My shirt was a black tube top, with a netted over shirt. My make up today rivaled that of an Egyptian. I didn’t go heavy into the tribal designs I normally do. I did black-lipstick today instead of ruby red.
When I came down the stairs, my mother smiled at me. She was dressed as she did when she met my father, faded jeans, black shirt. Her blonde hair still died dark, and her piercing was still there. It is funny how far she goes to look different than her twin sister.
“You’re looking very pretty,” she said with a smile. I thanked her. She and I walked to our garage. Yes, we have a garage, in a gothic motel, there is a garage. Now it is off grounds, but we have one. My mom opened the door to the Porsche, and I opened my door, I sat down inside, and she turned it on, and with a kick of gravel, she and I were off and headed to the mall.
On the way there we listened to my favorite radio station. That was not good. Whenever my mother listens to my music it can only mean two things. One; She wants to feel young, and so she goes from being my mother to being an exact copy of herself when she met my father at seventeen.
The other is worse. It means she is either going to tell me something bad, or she wants to discuss something that will displease me greatly.
We began to walk through the mall. She and I kept stopping and looking at different outfits. She missed out on this when she was my age. She practically jumped on the next outfit and smiled at me, “What do you think of this?” She wanted to be seventeen.
A wicked twisted guile act that was…
It was the bomb that came next, “Summer. I wanted to talk with you about sex.” I have to say, I didn’t expect it. It made me jump, and look at here with my mouth agape. “Why? I mean! Mom!”
“Summer… This is your first boyfriend. I’ve not met him, I don’t know what he’s like. I just wanted to talk to you about it.” I wasn’t embarrassed (Seeing as I really can't get embarrassed), I was just shocked, “Mom. I…” She spoke again, “Summer, I’m not doing this to upset you, because I trust you. I just… I want to make sure that you…” I walked closer to her, “That I what?” I asked.
“That you know you don’t have to.” I didn’t know how to reply so I said, “He doesn’t really seem like that type of guy.” My mother took my wrist and spoke softly, “Summer, I just want you to be safe. Do you…I mean, if you wanted…” I coughed.
I stumbled a bit, “Mom!” I accused. “Summer. I don’t want you to. I truly don’t, but you’re an adult. Or. Almost an adult. I trust you. And if wanted to… I want you to know…” I cast my eyes down from her, “I know, kind of… Just from what I’ve read…” She took my shoulders in her hands, “Summer. Where did you read it at?”
I coughed, “Mom… I…” She squeezed, “You can tell me.” I spoke with a meakness I had never known, “The Kama Sutra… It was by accident a year ago… I didn’t know… so I read it. I just. Mom. Please… I don’t plan on it. Even if he told me he’d break up with me if I didn’t. If he would break up with me, then he didn’t love me to begin with.”
She released her breath, and gave me a hug. Was that the answer she wanted? It was the truth of course. We didn’t talk much for the rest of the day. Until we got home. She asked me to come down to the library, and I did. She was resting on the chair with her feet up. There was a space between the chair arm and her.
I laid down next to her and rested my head on her shoulder. My eyes closed. She began to stroke my hair by my temple, and I heard her heartbeat as a lullaby. I felt safe, and warm in my mother’s arms. I closed my eyes and fell asleep.
-Dawn
Had I made him mad? I don’t even know that I did to make him mad. I’m such a fool. This journal should be called “Summer’s Insecurities”. I’ve so many. I’m not strong. I've no endurance. I’ve no willpower. I’m not even a powerful mage, I’m just a necromancer, I give dead things un-life, but they all have no soul.
Today I spent the day with my mother. She wished me to go the mall with her. I got dressed. Black panty-hose with high black boots, and a long flowing blacks skirt. My shirt was a black tube top, with a netted over shirt. My make up today rivaled that of an Egyptian. I didn’t go heavy into the tribal designs I normally do. I did black-lipstick today instead of ruby red.
When I came down the stairs, my mother smiled at me. She was dressed as she did when she met my father, faded jeans, black shirt. Her blonde hair still died dark, and her piercing was still there. It is funny how far she goes to look different than her twin sister.
“You’re looking very pretty,” she said with a smile. I thanked her. She and I walked to our garage. Yes, we have a garage, in a gothic motel, there is a garage. Now it is off grounds, but we have one. My mom opened the door to the Porsche, and I opened my door, I sat down inside, and she turned it on, and with a kick of gravel, she and I were off and headed to the mall.
On the way there we listened to my favorite radio station. That was not good. Whenever my mother listens to my music it can only mean two things. One; She wants to feel young, and so she goes from being my mother to being an exact copy of herself when she met my father at seventeen.
The other is worse. It means she is either going to tell me something bad, or she wants to discuss something that will displease me greatly.
We began to walk through the mall. She and I kept stopping and looking at different outfits. She missed out on this when she was my age. She practically jumped on the next outfit and smiled at me, “What do you think of this?” She wanted to be seventeen.
A wicked twisted guile act that was…
It was the bomb that came next, “Summer. I wanted to talk with you about sex.” I have to say, I didn’t expect it. It made me jump, and look at here with my mouth agape. “Why? I mean! Mom!”
“Summer… This is your first boyfriend. I’ve not met him, I don’t know what he’s like. I just wanted to talk to you about it.” I wasn’t embarrassed (Seeing as I really can't get embarrassed), I was just shocked, “Mom. I…” She spoke again, “Summer, I’m not doing this to upset you, because I trust you. I just… I want to make sure that you…” I walked closer to her, “That I what?” I asked.
“That you know you don’t have to.” I didn’t know how to reply so I said, “He doesn’t really seem like that type of guy.” My mother took my wrist and spoke softly, “Summer, I just want you to be safe. Do you…I mean, if you wanted…” I coughed.
I stumbled a bit, “Mom!” I accused. “Summer. I don’t want you to. I truly don’t, but you’re an adult. Or. Almost an adult. I trust you. And if wanted to… I want you to know…” I cast my eyes down from her, “I know, kind of… Just from what I’ve read…” She took my shoulders in her hands, “Summer. Where did you read it at?”
I coughed, “Mom… I…” She squeezed, “You can tell me.” I spoke with a meakness I had never known, “The Kama Sutra… It was by accident a year ago… I didn’t know… so I read it. I just. Mom. Please… I don’t plan on it. Even if he told me he’d break up with me if I didn’t. If he would break up with me, then he didn’t love me to begin with.”
She released her breath, and gave me a hug. Was that the answer she wanted? It was the truth of course. We didn’t talk much for the rest of the day. Until we got home. She asked me to come down to the library, and I did. She was resting on the chair with her feet up. There was a space between the chair arm and her.
I laid down next to her and rested my head on her shoulder. My eyes closed. She began to stroke my hair by my temple, and I heard her heartbeat as a lullaby. I felt safe, and warm in my mother’s arms. I closed my eyes and fell asleep.
-Dawn
posted by Summer Dawn O'Ciardha at 9:56 PM
2 Comments:
Time for 'The Talk', I think, Summer.
It's nice to have your mother hold you. You miss it when you don't have it.
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