Aaron and Amber

By Jenna Edwards

This book is about two teens living in different worlds. Aaron is dealing with the loss of his brother and the loss of something else. Amber is seeing things and finds it hard to be around people, except when it comes to a friendly stranger. Both teens go through heartache, some of which is a normal part of growing up, but some of the heartache should never be normal. Due to Aaron getting into trouble with his mother, he gets sent away, where he meets Amber and becomes a part of her world. Will their shared dysfunction bring them closer together or send them farther apart? Find out.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 20, 2018
• ISBN: 9781543479362

Jenna Edwards

My childhood was not what you'd call normal. I've had my fair share of heartache, but I decided to turn it into something creative because that's how I cope. I have a lot of supports of my writing in my family, for which I am extremely grateful. But unlike my other work, this book is for me and my grandmother, someone who didn't like my work but supported me anyway. I'm so grateful for my friends and my two cats, Cookie and Beamer, as they help me through my day to day life as well. Lastly I'd like to say that we all go through shit in our lives, but we don't have to go through it alone.

Book preview

Copyright © 2018 by Jenna Edwards.

ISBN:                   Softcover                               978-1-5434-7899-0

                             eBook                                     978-1-5434-7936-2

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 01/19/2018

Xlibris

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Contents

Section 1: Aaron: The news

Morning Gloria

Silver lining

Eye candy

Lenard

Section 2: Amber: Ich habe keine

freunde (I have no friends)

Cafeteria food

Bent tree

A cat named Dog

What about Dog?

Section 3: Aaron: The color red

Bathroom guy

Clean cuts

Outed

More out than ever

Section 4: Amber: Go home

Home

The story of Kailey

Level five

Girl across the street

Section 5: Aaron: No feelings

Yellow envelope

The almost fight

Interviews

Wants

Section 6: Amber: Taps

Pancakes

Robert’s car

Dirt Patches

Damn, Harchelo

Section 7: Aaron: Looking for Skylar

Betrayal

It’s a date

You’ll like it

A walk in the woods

Section 8: Amber: Service hours

The girl in the yellow raincoat

Relation

Hi

More tapping

Section 9: Aaron: Fuck off

Police call

Officer April

Yes is all it takes

Keeping tabs

Section 10: Amber: Phone Call

Meatloaf and mashed potatoes

Kaliey’s back

Standing up

Eyes

Section 11: Aaron: Arrival

Blending

Samantha

Full moon

If only

Section 12: Amber: Unsure

Baby dreams

Virgin lungs

Questions

Section 13: Aaron: Grocery assistance

Messages

Grilled cheese sandwich

Wake up call

Dawn

Section 14: Amber: Wake up

Overnight

Nothing means something means nothing

Aaron’s poem

Amber’s poem

Section 15: Aaron: The truth comes

Help

Talking

Bad dream

Overall health

Section 16: Amber: Liar

Friend

Shower

Remain calm

Two months later

Section 17: Aaron: Visiting Ronny

The end

Section 1: Aaron: The news

What? I slur, drifting in and out of reality and the dark nothingness considered dreams now. Attempting to sit up in bed, the hall light finally hits my eyes, making me squint. For a second I forget myself; who I am; where I am; what’s expected of me. Then mother’s face comes into full view just as my eyes fully adjust to the light pouring into my somber bedroom.

She’s been crying. Real tears, not crocodile tears. It’s crocodile tears when she wants to make someone feel bad. This is new for me. This can’t be an elaborate ruse to use my own emotions against me. This is real. She would never let her make-up run. She would’ve fixed the hair knotted on the side of her head.

Her shrunken silhouette shakes violently to match her weeps. Her face shrivels up. Her eyes are pink and puffy. Her cheeks are stained with old tears buried under new ones, still flooding over her eyelids. Her orangish hair still has the waves from earlier in them, although they aren’t in the high bun on the top of her head. Her hair begins to collect in front of her face like mine normally does. And just like my hair, it hides her face from the world.

Mom? I ask, trying to use a sympathetic tone that hopefully can be heard over her sobs. Her face is revealed to me, but it wasn’t what I was expecting. She stares at me with so much anger that all the hair on my body stands on end, unsure of what I did or what to expect she’ll be doing about it. Normally if she was angry with me she’d have said a whole speech by now about how stupid and evil I am. The silent treatment is new for me. With all the times she’s almost taken my head off, I’ve never been as scared as I am right now. For all I know silence means she’s about to stab me to death.

Unsure of how to help my mother out of a fetal position, I rub her back, assuring her that no matter what’s wrong, I’m here for her. She snaps up quickly, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands and avoiding eye contact. Never before have I felt more like my mother’s son.

Are you okay? I ask. She looks up at me like she’s possessed. Her edged ring collides with my high cheek bone. When I was little she used to tell me stories of our family in the Cherokee tribe which is why we have high cheek bones. I wince at the pain, holding the lump forming on the side of my face. At first her face resembles something like remorse, then it goes back to the usual cold.

Pussy. She hisses on her way out, her heels fast clicking to the door. She stops in the doorway, looking down toward the carpet in the hallway before turning back towards me. Her chin quivers, her eyes are glazed over with tears still streaming from both sockets.

Ronny’s…Ronny’s dead. Her voice cracks at the end, telling me that this is real. She closes the large oak door behind her, heels clicking down the hallway till they finally get so far away that they can no longer be heard.

How did he die? When did he die? Why did you hit me? Why did you leave me? Don’t you know I’m hurting too? Was he in pain? Was it peaceful? When’s the funeral? Why isn’t there anyone here for me to ask?

I try to stand up. I try to run after her. I try to run to my razors in my bathroom cabinet waiting for me. I try to breathe. But I can’t stand. I can’t run. I can’t breathe. I’m numb. I drop to the floor, crying and rocking on my knees. My breath escapes my chest, all the wind being removed. All the air in the room has been sucked out. My chest feels tight like my skin isn’t the right size. My eye twitches, letting more tears fall onto the berry scented sheets mother insisted I get.

I slink away from the comfort, wanting so badly to slice my skin open, to watch the blood climb out. At least a part of me could be free then. But I only find myself against the chilled walls in the corner of my room, alone.

Morning Gloria

My alarm blazes in my eardrum, in response I roll over groaning and whack my head on the leg of my nightstand when I try to sit up. Blurry vision, my hand fumble around, looking for the noise maker. A warm hand reaches it before I do, my finger tips touching the side of a pinky. I didn’t hear or see her come in but it must be Gloria.

Gloria is the nicest woman you’ll ever meet. She’s an older woman, maybe in her late 50’s, early 60’s. I’m not sure and it’s impolite to ask a woman her age so I never have. A few wrinkles on her face tell the story of how many warm smiles she’s given in her life. Her once dark brown hair has been taken over by gray and white strands. But no matter how her outer shell may change over the years, her inner shell will always be the same, warm and inviting. The twinkle of light from her caramel eyes only prove my point further.

She brings me in for a hug, my body being enveloped in hers. The smell of french toast and carnations linger under my nose, allowing me to keep the safe smell of Gloria with me a few moments longer after she pulled away. She presents the breakfast that I only half eat to humor her. I know she works hard on it so I stomach my morning nausea to give her peace of mind that I’ve eaten today.

She smiles, motioning for me to keep eating. Cutting off a chunk of french toast, dripping with syrup, I crack. I drop the fork, letting it echo off the plate. My face scrunches up with tears. I’ve never seen myself cry in a mirror before, but I don’t need to, I know I’m an ugly cryer. I can feel the sympathy emanating off of Gloria before she even makes contact again. But I don’t analyze the situation like I normally would. Me somewhat thinking how clever I am. Thinking that I have such a good grip on human emotions and why they feel the need to do certain things. But I don’t want to analyze this situation. I don’t want to think that Gloria is only comforting me to keep her job. I don’t want to think that I’m only crying because I feel guilty about how I left things with my older brother.

She pulls me halfway onto her lap, her bosom covering my shoulder, neck, and chin. She rocks me like she would a child if she could have had one. I know how much it hurts her that she can’t. She pulls me closer, so close it’s hard to breathe, but somehow it’s more comforting this way. Gloria pets my head, humming a gentle toon that I can’t recognize at the moment. Mother ruins the moment however, the smell of day drinking and bo coming a few seconds before herself.

Get him ready for school. Now. Mother commands. Even with her missing sock and pajamas that aren’t buttoned correctly, mother still stands at the top of the food chain.

But with all that happened- Gloria starts. Simply the look of mother’s famous death-glare stops Gloria from protesting further. I do appreciate that she tried however.

I’m sorry madam, I’ll get him ready at once. Mother nods her head at this and turns on her heel to storm out. For some reason not making a comment on my quivering or tears. Normally she’d say I was a pussy like last night.

Oh, and stop crying. Only women and fags cry. Mother calls from the hall. There it is…my mother.

Silver lining

I stare into the mirror, wanting nothing more than to crack the image staring back at me. Anything to not have to see myself clearly. To not have to see myself at all. I look down at my feet, thinking about how stupid I am. How worthless I am. How ugly I am. How alone I am. How no one cares. How it should have been me to die, not Ronny. How I’m not the only one who thinks that.

I open my eyes, not sure when I closed them or when I opened my cabinet or when I grabbed my razor. The metal looks up at me, begging to help take my mind off whatever made me ask for the red and silver to meet again. It tells me it’s my only friend. Tells me to bring it closer to my skin and give it a taste of my sorrow. I obey, cutting in one of the few