Fallen (Fallen 1)

“Kylie, why are you just standing there? Oh-,” she said seeing the pile of broken glass.

“I’m so sorry, mom. I didn’t mean to. The box just gave out.”

Taking a deep breath and running her fingers through her bangs she said, “It doesn’t matter. I should have thrown that stuff away anyway. I guess this is my punishment,” I could tell she was fighting tears.

I put the now empty box down and said, “I’ll clean it up.” I headed toward the kitchen to get the dust pan. Guilt was an ache in the pit of my stomach.

When I got back she already had the large pieces picked up and thrown into the trashcan.

“Here,” I said bending down.

“No, no, don’t worry about it. I’ll do it. Just keeping putting boxes in the car. I want to get out of here as quickly as possible.”

I handed her the dust pan and went to collect some of the remaining boxes.

Honestly, I wanted out of here as quickly as she did. My dad and his new girlfriend, the reason for the divorce, Kelly would be here soon. Kelly would be moving in. This would be her house now. This wasn’t my house anymore. The walls suddenly didn’t feel so welcoming.

As my mom scraped up the remaining bits of glass I studied her.

For being forty-five she still looked good but different since the divorce. She had lost her peppy outlook on life and it could be shown in her face. Her normally sparkling blue eyes used to look young but now there were bags under her eyes and instead of sparkling with happiness they now glimmered with tears. Her full lips always used to be turned upward in a smile but now that smile was a grimace. Her dark brown hair was styled in a sleek bob, it used to be long, and it had lost its chestnut shine. She had on very little makeup which was normal for her but now she hardly put on mascara. Her thin body reminded me of a dancer but she had muscle in her arms and legs from frequent runs. Runs that didn’t happen anymore. She was short, only five two, meaning that at my height of five eight I towered up over her.

My vibr

ant mother was gone and instead replaced by this stranger. She looked weak, a depressing thought, since I’ve always thought my mom to be a force of nature, never tiring, and never letting anything bother her. But the divorce took her by surprise like it did me and she hasn’t been the same since.

I felt like we were both becoming completely new people. We had always been close but recently I had felt us drifting apart. Nothing was going to be the same. Especially after moving to a whole new country. Not even that. A whole new continent.

It would be weird living somewhere new when the only place I knew was this. Even weirder would be the language barrier. I wouldn’t have any friends. Just my mom. God, help me, I prayed.

I finally got the last box in the car and shouted to my mom that I was done.

I went into the bathroom and stared at myself. Maybe I was like my mom. Maybe I had lost my spark. If I had I hadn’t noticed. I thought I was still me underneath. Just a little sad. But maybe I was wrong.

This is you Kylie, I thought, no one and nothing can change who you are. Even in Rome you will still be you, I thought to myself.

I studied my reflection in the mirror.

I look more like my mom than my dad. I have her lips only mine are only slightly plump, dark brown hair which I wear long, olive skin. Unfortunately I didn’t inherit her lithe body. I had definite curves. I had a big chest unlike my mother’s flat chest, and my hips flared out. How many times had I stared longingly at the clothes that she could wear so beautifully but made me look insignificant? The only two things I seemed to inherit from my dad were his green eyes and wavy hair.

“Even in Rome this is what I will look like. I will still be me,” I chanted to myself.

I heard my mom coming down the steps so I left the bathroom.

“Ready?” she asked her purse already on her shoulder.

“Yeah,” I said even though I wasn’t sure.

She went out and got in the car.

I looked around the house one more time. As I was closing the door behind me I said, “Goodbye, house.” Just like I always did when I was little.

My mom tapped her watch indicating that we needed to go now.

I climbed in the car and risked one last glance at my childhood home. We turned down the street and it was gone from my sight. I didn’t know if I would ever see it again.

The airport wasn’t super busy but busy enough. We went through all the security and got our bags checked. Our other stuff, like the car, would be coming later. We grabbed a pair of seats at our gates and waited to board. I was exhausted and hoped I would be able to sleep on the plane. It would be a long flight.

About an hour later it was ready to board.