Didn't Like It Anymore

Usually, I sit down in my sky-blue and white room (which makes me feel as though I’m in the sky writing on a cloud) and write in my diary—

“Honey, dinner’s ready!”

I—

Oh, don’t say sorry to me.  *Chuckles* I have a lot of adventure to guide you on—

“Honey!”

What adventure?! You know, you’re talking to a dragon! Can you believe it?

I attacked my diary with the emerald pen. Could you show me worlds beyond this boring one? Reality, I mean.

“It’s midnight, honey! Go to sleep. You have school tomorrow—”

I slapped my diary closed and crawled into bed. But I waffled between grabbing my diary and continuing to venture into the dragon’s world. My whole room was basically a mini world of dragons, from posters to collectibles like cards, action figures and pictures my cousins drew for their art projects. My parents tried getting me involved in extracurricular activities, but dragons were my go-to. It wasn’t like I was closeted; I just wasn’t interested.

The next night, I drenched those pages with words. “Come right in! We’re here to help.”

I dropped into a snowy, icy wasteland. Hypothermic water surrounded me. “Where am I?”

I turned to see a sky-blue dragon blow a fire as blue as the ocean. I joined, immediately warmed. “Who are you?” I also kept my distance. These beautiful beasts were also dangerous.

“Well, we’re the Ice Dragons. Over there are the Fire Dragons. And then there are the Spring Dragons, the Summer Dragons, the Winter Dragons—”

“What’s the difference?”

“Between what?”

“Between you guys and the Winter Dragons?”

A cave before me. I looked at the so-called Ice Dragons, and they responded in kind, thinking (assumedly), What do you think?  Winter did come with ice.

“Oh, yeah.” This dragon lazily dropped a piece of bacon into the fire, and then immediately dove for it! I gaped as the huge goateed beast laughed victoriously. I chuckled, and then gulped.

“Oh—the question.” It shrugged.

“Are you going to answer me?”

“Uh…” The dragon turned tail, shrugging its shoulders. Walking into the cave, he waved me on. “Come on. I have so much to show you!” I narrowed my eyes irritably, wondering whether the dragons really…

“No.”

A voice startled me.

“Where’s that dragon who wrote to me?”

“Oh, it was the dragon who walked away.”

I balled my fists. “You mean, I was wasting my time?!”

“No,” the polar bear shook its head. “No, I just came to take you on a wild adventure.”

“What—”

Before I knew it, I was atop the colossal animal, its roar almost deafening me. But as I gripped the gorgeous white fur and its sides with my legs, the polar bear reared up and then charged forward.

“This is my cave.”

I looked around. Polar bears lazed about, tanning under faux tanning lights, sipping Coke Cola by the beach and others put sunglasses on their baby bears, and chuckled. They lay back on their paws, enjoying themselves. I guess it was summer vacation. Or Spring Break. Did they go to school? Did they do anything else other than…?

Then I bit my lip. I needed to apologize.

“You know what.” I jumped off after swinging my left leg over the huge beast and then dropped a hundred feet to the iciness below. Almost slipping, I looked up at the polar bear but then turned tail. I found myself in my bedroom. I grabbed some stationary and began writing.

Dear Jessica and Mason and Jason and Jackson,

I’m sorry I’ve been so judgmental. I really don’t have much of a life. I’m not much of anyone but an artist… No. I grabbed my pen, and dashed out some words before dinner. Wolfing my meal down, I barely escaped before my mother ordered me to do the dishes. I did, and then zoomed up to my bedroom again—

“Honey, you’re not done! You didn’t clean.”

Sighing, I headed downstairs. Taking it a little more easily, I got the dishes done, my mother proud. Then I continued writing my apology letter. Signing it as Trying to be more careful next time, I sealed it in the envelope, writing For my new friends in the center and then tucked it in one of my folders for tomorrow.

The sound of paper being shredded couldn’t have come sooner as I stared at the teenager’s ringed, painted-nailed hands shredding my apology. Balling it all up, she then blew it right in my face just like snow is done to some child in those Christmas movies. Then she plopped down as the bus driver told her to get a move on and then shut the bus doors, the bus growled for the driver to get a move on and then we were off.

I was off to a great start today.

But instead of going to school, I got out a sheet of paper and drew my journal—not my diary. It took me to worlds that didn’t have boring or indifferent. A woman in drenched deep colored purple approached me, saying I couldn’t hang on to judgment anymore. I said I was sorry. She felt my apology.

But Jessica and they don’t.

“They don’t need to.”

She said she could read minds.

I felt a warmth I’ve never received from even my mother. I smiled, and hoped this day would be great. I said I loved dragons, but the last ones depressed my interest in them. The woman nodded, but her chocolate swirls of honey-colored hair went up and down indifferently. I sighed, and said I was sorry.

“Come on!” She beckoned me with a kindness I’ve never known, and I followed her instantly, seeing all these worlds. Clutching my journal, I sketched, drawing and drawing. Soon, I felt proud that I had a whole small—

“Wait, I need a sketchbook for this.”

“Yes,” she said, her eyes on the drawings, some of them running into the edge of the paper. “You do. Now, go get it.”

I did. When my mother saw me, she asked whether I had gotten my homework done. I said I was a straight-A student, so it could wait.

“Now!”

The sting of being ordered made me want to storm up to her and smack her in the face. I didn’t need this dictatorship. She didn’t live with anyone but me, but that didn’t mean she needed to make me her servant. I was her daughter. My name wasn’t honey. It was Kenzie. Short for Mackenzie.

“Mom, my name isn’t honey.”

“Want me to stop calling you that—”

“No.” I stormed up to her and jerked a finger in her face. “No! I want you to be my loving mother, not a demeaning mother who can’t look past the next set of directions written down like a grocery list of items.”

She walked away, grabbing her phone. Calling someone, she disappeared into the living room. Then I heard her say, “No, she doesn’t want to have anything to do with me. She’s not interested in listening.”

My blood boiled. I grabbed a knife from the kitchen counter, and headed in her direction as stealthily as a ninja. Hiding below the couch’s arm farthest from her, I peeked, seeing her eyes not look at me but they were in my direction. I took the knife, went in a frenzy dancing around her, but she seemed not to notice. Then I hurled the knife down and disappeared into the world in which I was probably going to be convicted as a murderess.

“Dear—”

“My name’s not dear! My name’s not honey, sweetie, dear or love. It’s Mackenzie!”

“Okay, okay.”

The woman raised her arms like she was begging me to stop yelling. I didn’t approach her, I didn’t go with her and I didn’t want to have anything to do with her. I returned to reality, and drew and drew. Buildings as high as the sky and birds as beautiful as my imagination let them fly in and out of the drawings. I entered these drawings’ worlds, smiling at my own creations. But my smile turned into a frown when I saw that the buildings weren’t the way I wanted them. I went back, shading them in with my pencil. When they—

“Wait, I got it.”

Suddenly, a bang.

Whipping my head around, I grabbed my precious drawings, and slammed that door right in my mother’s face. “Go away!” I returned and then disappeared. I strived to make a new life for myself here in my drawings, but as I pulled the covers over my head, I felt tears fall down my face. I blinked, curling into myself. I sighed a huge sigh.

That night, I dreamt I was adrift a huge crab boat. I was hauling in one load of crabs after another. The wind howled madly, my hair one long blond strand as the wind prevented it from touching my back or neck. The waves were going to eat me, I knew, as they reached halfway over the ship and then maliciously slapped me in the face—

“That’s it!”

I wiped my face after jerking up in bed. I drew and drew, drew myself away. Then I went into the bathroom, and grabbed some mascara. “Maybe this’ll do the trick.”

A hand softly closed around my makeup tube. I didn’t know where it came from, but I didn’t care. I looked over—it was the woman from before. She wore a ruby-red robe. It sparkled. I looked down. “If only my life sparkled.”

“Mackenzie, your favorite thing to do is—”

“Live with dragons. I had a whole Facebook page complete with friends who always talked of their extravagantly wide, large wings, volcanic breath of fire and adoringly slow time of babies hatching from their eggs. Everything was amazing!”

“Yes, yes.” The woman beckoned me to walk in the falling snow with her. She remained quiet. The trees around us were bare. The snow soon piled up, and the woman then took me to a river. Or rather a brook, since the water cascading from one rock into the next portion thundered as much as a baby lion. I smiled as the peacefulness seemed to weigh on me. Like leaves falling. Which they did. I looked up, seeing Fall as gold, yellow, red and orange leaves fell from their trees.

“Wow, such beautiful colors!”

The woman nodded. I wish I had that kitchen knife—to guard me against the stupidly frustrating reality that was my mother’s lack of attention towards me. No pictures of us together in the living room, dining room or any other room. Just her and her friends. Just a little bit of background consisting of a shopping mall or fencing match. But we were never in the pictures together. Just a little bit of me here and there at the beach, but I didn’t ever look at the camera.

I felt I had completely missed those years as a toddler. A child. And now a teenager about to embark on a college adventure.

“Do you trust those dragons? Do you think they’d be your friends?”

The questions jolted me. “Uh…” I shook my head. “No. They’re just dragons. Just,” I shrugged. “beasts from another world.”

“Not much of a joy anymore?”

“Not much of anything anymore.”

“Your mother isn’t just going to disappear.”

“How do you know about her?”

“How do you know to get here?”

I jumped up. “So you were here, all along?”

The woman didn’t answer. I looked down. “So…you were going to tell me these things. But you didn’t. So…you…” I thought. “I guess dragons can’t talk to me. They all have each other. I don’t want to be boring. Facebook’s just a group of people talking.”

The woman smiled, but I looked away. I thought of scaring my mother, but I knew she was telling others how ugly I had been acting. A dragon’s hot breath wasn’t going to scorch that away. I looked back. Could…I smile, too?

“I’m sorry—”

“Just enjoy the peaceful brook. Winter’s not here, yet, but when it is, you’ll enjoy the smell of winter.”

I did. I smiled. I really jumped and frolicked, throwing a snowball at the woman. She hurled one back, and then morphed into a dragon. I looked up, the colossal lizard’s magenta eyes peering back at me. I sat down, squeezing a smile onto my face. The snow felt good to sit in. I lay back, the snow falling onto my face.

I sat up. “Any hot chocolate?”

Putting the steaming mug to my lips, I inhaled the beautiful smell. It smelled like winter. I took a sip, a deep sip, and sat there with my eyes closed, the hot chocolate going down my throat like water running down the brick of our home back home. I let the rain fall down the brick of our home.

Then I saw a hand take the mug away. I didn’t resist. I let the woman take it away. Then I got up, followed her and found myself in a dark world with the stars up above gazing down at me. A sky of stars waited for me to wonder at it. Lay in awe of it.

I did. I lay there, breathless at the massive amount of stars, endless in their counting. Shaking my head, life escaped me. I didn’t have my journal, but then I grabbed it. Or at least I drew a journal out of the sand and then I started drawing the stars. I drew and drew, and then entered this world. But it only consisted of stars. I drew and drew, and came up with other things.

“Dragons are just beasts, right?”

That woman! She just kept right up. Was always there.

“Can you go away?”

The woman sat there, watching the stars. Like they were moving!

She was always there. I then didn’t say anything to her. She never left me. I blinked, hoping she’d leave, but she didn’t. No matter what I did, I couldn’t get rid of her. It was like she was…I soon gave up drawing myself away. I loved dragons—drew them all the time. Gorgeous white ones among the falling snow. Boasting black ones among volcanic soot raining down after a burst of therapeutic anger from the lava vomiting up out of the piece of earth. Like volcanoes, dragons always brought destruction. But my dragons—

“And my dragons have always brought peace to you.”

“Yeah.” I looked up and then back at my drawings. “I draw dragons. I guess that’s my new Facebook group chat.”

“Do you even have any friends?”

“No.”

“Neither do I.”

“How do you have dragons?”

Then it hit me. She was a dragon. How could I have missed it? It was always there, but…I shook my head. I wasn’t a dragon. I didn’t mingle with dragons. She wasn’t my friend. I told her I wasn’t a dragon. “But could I be?”

She laughed, and shook her head. “No!”

I thought. “Yeah, never mind.”

I went back to my mother, to see what she was doing. “Then when I was on the cruise ship, I decided to paint…”

Paint? I shook my head. Copycat! I dashed upstairs, did my homework and then went to school the next day. But I always had my drawings with me. I never stopped drawing. I entered contests, but I wasn’t good enough to win. So I started my own Facebook group chat of Drawing Dragons. Someone posted, Dungeons and Dragons? What a copycat.

Never mind. I shook my head. Then I started seeing people enjoy my drawings, and, soon, I sold them on the streets. I chanced giving them to homeless people, but they didn’t want someone else’s drawings. They wanted their own drawings. They were inspired by me, liked them and wanted to be just like me. I nodded firmly, saying they could if they practiced. I earned some money along the way. But I knew I needed a job.

A mop in my hands and a paycheck in my pocket for the next four years, I kept at it until I ran away to another place where I bought my first apartment. College had come and gone. I hadn’t seen my mother in a very long time. I felt I needed to go back to her. Then I received a text message and a picture.

Saw one of your drawings online. Don’t know why I don’t draw like you. You need to put these in an art museum. Make some money, huh? I guess you have, seeing how good you are. Love you.

My face contorted, I saw in the reflection of the iPhone. But then I slowly returned to normal, texting back. Mom, I made some money. Maybe I’ll flood the bank. I’ll break my piggy bank. I’ll rip my wallet. I… Then I texted all these confident texts, saying I wasn’t just an artist.

“I’m an artist!”

 I stood before thousands of people, who clapped thunderously at my vivid drawings.

They were of dragons.

But, my mom requested, of me.

She bought them, and put them on her bedroom wall. She said she smiled joyfully each time she looked at them.

I said I smiled, too. We ran into each other at the grocery store one day, and I showed her drawings.

Drawings of my piggybank shattering, wallet having ripped, bank flooding and house’s walls falling outward on all four directions. She smiled. And wiped tears from her eyes.

I knew they were happy tears. But I never saw her again.

We danced slowly at my wedding after my father walked me down the aisle. I looped my arm through his, but then I held my husband’s hands. And he held mine, love beaming from such hazel beauty.

He worked, but always swept me up in his arms afterward. And I always swept him away into my drawings.