North of Somewhere [1]

My mother is somewhere, somewhere that isn't here. Somewhere has never been here, and I have always been here. Papa says that when he was younger, he prayed for a daughter. He told me that one day the angels decided to fulfill his prayers. Papa says an angle brought me here, that she gave me to him out of the goodness of her heart. He told me how she didn't really want to let me go, how she asked for five more minutes in return for a lifetime. That was the day I was born. I was in her arms for all of five minutes before she was gone. I used to ask where she was and why she never came back for me. Papa always had a hard time answering that. The truth is, he never really knew. After a while I stopped asking about her, because after a while I just stopped caring.

Here, to get specific, is a little house surrounded by big trees up in North Conway. This is where my mother left me the day I was born, and this is where I stayed. I have never wanted to be anywhere else nor have I ever really been anywhere else. I am content where I am, doing what I do. I go to school, to dance class, and home. I would go out, if I had friends to go out with. Sometimes papa takes me shopping, but not too often. He works while I'm at school and dance. He picks me up on his way home and we talk. I don't really know how much normal girls share with their fathers, but I do know that we share more. When all you've got is each other, you don't really leave much out.

Every day after I do my homework, papa sits down and plays the most beautiful piano pieces anyone has ever heard. He doesn't need sheet music or any direction, my papa plays from his heart. Sometimes he watches me dance for him, other times he gets so absorbed in the music that everything else just doesn't seem to exist to him anymore. When that happens, it's my turn to watch him. I want to be able to do that, have something capture my soul so completely that I don't even notice that the world is spinning. Once when I was four I got upset because papa wasn't watching me dance. When I asked him why, he told me I inspired him.

My name is Musetta Hope. It means little muse in french, which is papa's first language. He tells me that I inspire hope, so therefore there was no better name for me.

Papa has always loved me, always given me everything I need and most of what I want. Things weren't always good like they are now though. When I was six, all I wanted was a barbie doll. Not just any barbie, a Disney princess barbie. That was also the year that papa had trouble finding work. When my birthday came around, there was no barbie. Papa tried though, he made me something else. He had taken one of my old dresses and turned it into a stuffed bunny rabbit. It wasn't really well made, and it only barely resembled a bunny, but I think that bunny was better than every single barbie in the world.

The truth is, he tries his best, but sometimes it isn't enough. There was a time when we wouldn't always have dinner. That was the year he planted a garden. We grow pumpkins, potatoes, lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, and carrots. That helped a lot, but when winter came it took all the vegetables with it. Papa knew we had to eat, so he turned the heat off. We had to wear all our sweaters and blankets, but it was worh it. He ended up cutting down one of the big trees in the woods. We would sit next to the fire every night and he would read to me. Most nights, I fell asleep in his lap.

I was never unhappy, never mad at him for having us live like that. I never knew that things were supposed to be different. Sometimes I do wish it was more than just the two of us. Every girl needs a woman in her life, to teach her how to be a lady. I say that I don't care what happened to my mother, and I really don't, but sometimes, I wish I knew where somewhere was.

Forgetting - Part 16 [final chapter]

I'm not sure what I'm supposed to remember. My childhood? That's long gone. What do you want from me? My life story? That's not even possible anymore. I can only remember little things, unimportant things. I can remember wearing a red hat on the day of my brother's graduation, but nothing else. I can vividly see the shoes I wore to prom but can't remember who I went with. I can remember every word of a note I got from my best friend the day I got to college, but where I went and for what is a dizzy blur. I know I should know these things, but I just don't. What's wrong with me?

Forgetting - Part 15

"Julia? Thank God you're alright!"

"Mom? What the hell?"

"You were hit by a taxi. You don't have any brain trauma so don't try to pull that amnesia crap. Talk to your mother or you'll be going straight to hell." The nurse gives me a stern look and walks away, shouting, "Jesus is watching!"

"Honey, where have you been? Your bank account was cancelled, you haven't talked to me in months. I already lost one daughter, isn't that enough?"

"Please, not you too! I'm still myself! Why can't anyone see that?"

"Are you trying to be funny?" Tears are begining to glisten in my mother's eyes.

"Mom, I'm your only daughter." At this she starts weeping. "What?" I'm defensive now.

"It's like you don't even see what you've done to this family. We needed you Julia. While you were busy doing whatever the hell you want, not even bothering to call your mother, we needed you."

"Mom, I didn't..." But I trail off, unsure of what to say. A moment passes in silence.

"Your father left."

"Daddy? But, no!"

"You missed your brother's wedding. I bet if this little accident hadn't happened, you wouldn't have known about the niece you'll have in a few months."

I pick up the closest thing to me, a flower vase, and throw it at my mother. I miss but I begin to scream. "Stop it! Stop making me feel like I'm nothing! I've felt that way for months and months! I don't have a home, mother. I was ashamed. I didn't think you'd want me."

"Why would you ever think that we would throw you out, not help you when you needed it? That's what family is for. Don't you remember how we were there for Kim?"

I stare at her, a puzzled expression plastered on my face. "Who is Kim?"

"Don't play games with me Julia, it was hard enough to see her in trouble and harder still to loose her. Just, don't. Please."

"I'm not playing games. Who is Kim?"

My mother gets up and walks out the door.

"Who's Kim? Mom?" I shout after her.

In a moment the nurse comes back in and my mother is wiping away more tears. The nurse is shaking her head at me in disaproval.

"Honey, who is your sister and where is she now?"

"I've never had a sister. Right mom?"

She starts crying again and says softly, "I'm loosing another one." She turns away and says louder, "Do it. Put her in the therapy. I don't care. She's gone, just like her twin."

Forgetting - Part 14

Six Months Later

I know I woke up late because the sun is high in the sky. I pack up my stuff quickly and start running. The thing is, the money ran out a few months ago, even after I sold all of my stuff. I am running from a bench in the park to the soup kitchen, hoping that I'm not too late for breakfast.

I didn't tell anyone about my current situation. I haven't spoken to anyone in a long time. My glasses got lost somewhere along the way and I can't see for shit.

"Excuse me, sir?"

All I get is a disgusted look before he turns his back on me.

"Maim?"

"Yes?" She looks mildly appauled.

"What time is it?"

"It's 10:27"

Shit. "Thank you."

I walk slowly to a new spot in the park and sit. The kitchen stops serving at eleven. I can't believe my life. I can't remember anything before I got to college, I burst into tears every time I see a baby or a book store, and I'm living on the street. I bet I could live with that, if there was anyone else to go through it with. Nobody sees me, the people on the streets look through me or around me. I am not important to anyone's life. What is the point of living when there is nobody to live life with?

I leave my things on the bench and start running again. I'm running for no reason, other than to try to escape this person I've become. I can hear the people shouting, finally noticing, but for once I'm the one that doesn't see anything. I feel it though. I feel a sharp stab and then nothing. I am an empty shell.

Forgetting - Part 13

"But Eric, I need a place to stay!"

"I said no."

"I'm your sister! You can't do this to me!"

"You aren't my sister anymore. If you need a place to stay so bad, call mom."

"I can't go back home."

"Why not?"

"I don't, it's complicated, okay."

"Sure."

"Please, Eric."

I stand at the phone booth listening to nothing for a while before I hear a click and know that instead of answering me, my own brother decided to turn his back on me. I can't go home because the truth is, I don't remember home. My childhood is slipping away and growing more and more faint every day.

I end up checking in to a cheap motel for the night, but I don't really have a job and my bank account is running low. I have two options, go home and beg for money, or get a job. Going home isn't an option, but who would want to hire a drop-out? Nobody. I go to sleep with a certain sense of unease and fear, not knowing what tomorrow will bring.