Jane

My mom calls me from the living room, I was in my bedroom unpacking my things. It was winter break for my school. I go downstairs and see my mother with a box, “Look what your grandmother bought you.” It was a pretty ugly skirt. It was like one of those bad Christmas sweaters, but in a skirt form.

    “Oh,” I said in a fake yet believable voice. “It looks lovely.”

    Mother smiles, “You really like it?”

    I nodded, “Y-yeah. I think I’ll wear it when grandma visits,” In other words, I’ll never wear it.

I took the sweater with me upstairs and I tossed the skirt in  my closet. God that thing was ugly. I threw myself on my bed. I stared at the ceiling for a while, then I heard my stepdad come home. He was slamming things and yelling, “Where’s my lighter? Where’s my lighter?” I ignored him. I couldn’t take his crap tonight, not tonight. I roll over my bed and take a book from the pile next to my bed. They were poem books. I opened the book from the middle and read a poem from Edgar Allen Poe it was title “For Annie”

Thank Heaven! the crisis --

The danger is past,

And the lingering illness

Is over at last --

And the fever called "Living"

Is conquered at last.

My stepdad was rambling on; “God I can’t find anything in this dump!” It sounded like he was throwing everything everywhere. I went on reading;

Sadly, I know

I am shorn of my strength,

And no muscle I move

As I lie at full length --

But no matter! -- I feel

I am better at length.

Then I heard stepdad and his elephant feet up the stairs. “Jane where’s my lighter?”

I closed my book. “I don’t know where your lighter is.”

“I knew I shouldn’t of asked you. You wouldn't know where it is, you wouldn't know where anything is!” With that he slammed my door.

Thank the heavens he finally left. I thought he was going to go on about how “inconvenient” I was to him. I look over at my window. I looked at the checkerboard; there lied two of my favorite colors; red and black. It’s a shame I never use it anymore. I wish someone would play with me. I rolled over to my nightstand, picked up my phone. I didn't know who I was going to call, but I felt like I needed to talk to someone. I dialed for my boyfriend, Stradlater, but he didn't answer. I look at the checkerboard again then I thought about Holden for some reason. I know we haven’t talk in a while, but I felt like I needed to talk to him.

    I roll over to the phone and started to dial his house, but then I stopped. What if he’s not home? What if someone else answers? I hung up the phone. I lied on my bed for about an hour, I wasn’t sure what to do. My stepdad was still yelling look for God knows what now, and mother was probably pretending to clean dishes just so she doesn’t have to help him. I look over at the window. It looked beautiful out; it looked like I was staring at a picture frame. Holden always said I had the best view. Holden always said that he liked looking out my window. Holden liked a lot of things in my house. “Holden.” I whispered. I said it once more but louder, “Holden.” I kept saying it, but louder every time; “Holden! Holden! Holden!” I wasn’t sure why I was saying his name, but I did. I guess at the time I thought that if I say it enough times he would come. I got off my bed and opened my window, I yelled his name hoping that he would come, but he didn’t.

    My stepdad burst through the door in his red and blue plaid boxers, “What the heck is wrong with you child?” he yelled. I just stared at him with that deer-in-headlights look. I didn’t answer, I didn’t want to answer, I didn’t know what to answer. He left mumbling something to himself. It wouldn’t surprise me that he was drunk… again.

    I wish my friends didn’t move so far for vacation, that way I could call them and say, “Hey I’m bored, do you wanna hang out?” and then they’d say. “Yeah sure. I’ll be at your place in five minutes.” I looked at the clock, it was almost 8:30. I assumed that supper should be done by now, so, I decided to try and call Stradlater again. Of course, he didn’t answer. He never answers his calls anymore, and it’s really annoying me. I dialed Holden’s house, it rang for a bit. A lady answered the phone, “Hello?” she sounded nice. I asked her if Holden was home, “No. I’m sorry Holden’s not here. And he may not be back for a while. Good bye.” I wanted to ask when he was going to be back, but by then she’d already hung up.

    Does Holden even remembered me. I wonder if Stradlater and him are friends? What if the two of them hate each other? What if Holden gives Stradlater a hard time? What if Stradlater gives Holden a hard time? I wonder how Holden’s been. What if he’s in trouble? What if he’s forgotten about me? What if he’s trying to contact me and he doesn’t know how? What if he’s dead?

    Questions like these kept coming up in my head. Why am I thinking about Holden so much, I have a boyfriend!  I don’t need to be thinking about any guy but my boy friend. I look at the clock, it was almost 9. I decided to get ready for bed, and then I realised that it was silent. My stepdad wasn’t making any more noise, and there weren’t any cars driving outside either. It was absolutely quiet. It was nice. It was peaceful.

    I remembered days like this; cold, quiet, relaxing. Holden and I were sitting in my room, playing checkers, which I was winning by the way, and then he asked me the simplest yet complex question ever. “What is life?”

    The question threw me off, “What do you mean?” I asked.

    He repeated himself, “What is life?”

    I moved my red checker, “Well according to the Merriam Webster Dictionary life is; ‘The sequence of physical and mental experiences that make up the existence of an individual.”

    Holden stared at me. It was like he was expecting a different answer. He smirked and shook his head, ”Gosh do you always go by the book?”

    I frowned, “What? Is my answer wrong?”

    He kept shaking his head, “No.” He moved his black checker and manage to jump me. “What does life mean to you?”

    I was confused, “What?” I didn’t know how to answer. Where is he going with this?  I thought to myself.

    He rolled his eyes, “Nevermind… Just…. Just forget it.”

    I move my checker jumping him three times, taking out the last of his pieces, “I win.” I smiled, but Holden still looked lost in thought. I tilted my head to meet his eyes, “Hey Holden, are you okay?” He nodded slowly, then he suddenly shook his head, like he was awaken.

    “Hey,” he pointed outside. “It’s snowing.”

    I look over to see the window, “So it is.”

    “It’s beautiful.”

    “It lovely.”

    The question about life suddenly popped in my head again. What is life? I thought to myself. “What is life?” I asked myself. Then the answer hit me, I jumped out of bed and went to my desk. I was searching for a paper and pencil. I wrote:

     Dear Holden,

    I know the answer. Life is what you make of it. Life is challenging, it can be confusing at times. You may not like what’s happening in your life. You may not understand why the things that happened happen in your life. What are you going to do about it all? Are you just going to run away from it all? Give up? Get angry at the world? Blame others for your problems? Or are you going to take life’s challenges and use them to your advantage. Are you going to let others put you down, or are you gonna stand up for yourself? You should remember all the good things if you feel down. I hope this answer has helped you.

     Sincerly,

    Jane Gallagher

    I folded the paper up and stuffed it into an envelope. I wrote the the address to Holden’s house and put the stamp on the envelope. I grabbed my coat from my closet and threw some boots on. I grabbed the letter and headed down stairs. Just as I was heading towards the front door, I saw a car in front of the house. Is that Holden? I was excited to finally see him again.

    I swung the door open and blindly ran up to the car. I hugged him really hard. “Geez I didn’t know you missed me that much.” The voice it was familiar, but it wasn’t Holden’s. I look up to see the face, it was Stradlater. I let go, and smiled. “What are you doing here?” I was happy to see him, but at the same time I felt a little disappointed.

    “Came here to see you.” He smiled

    “Why didn’t you call?”

    “I wanted to surprise you.” He opens the passenger’s side of the car.

    “Oh,” I brush my hair behind my ear. “ I guess that makes sense. I get in his car and sit down.

    “What’s that?” He pointed to the envelope in my hand. “You weren’t sending a letter to Santa are you?” He teased.

    I laughed, “No it’s… It’s nothing, don’t worry about it” I shove the letter in my pocket.

    End