3 Days Left

3 days left

I look to my left over at my alarm clock. I groan.

"No one should be up before eight in the morning!"

I rub my eyes and reluctantly sit up. I reach for my glasses and struggle to put them on. As my eyes begin to focus and take in another day in this excuse of a town, I notice the several boxes packed up around my room as a lovely reminder that I only have a little while left before I leave this shit hole and off to college I go. I pull off my blankets and trip trying to get up. Seriously, not a morning person. After several attempts, I stumble to the hallway.

My feet clunk down the stairs and I tip toe to my little sister's room.

"Hey," I whisper. I tickle her little stomach and she abruptly wakes up. "Three days left." I say.

"Get out of my room!" She's not a morning person either. My mother sits at the counter reading a magazine. We exchange a few good mornings and I go outside to get the mail. After observing the letters among the sea of junk mail, I find the one I was looking for. I angrily slam the mailbox shut and head back inside to deliver the wonderful news to my mom.

"Mom! Great news. Dads fun little child support check came in the mail! Happy belated birthday!" I scoff sarcastically and frisbee the envelope at her. She sighs. I grab the box of cereal, milk, and two bowls.

"Lindsey! Get your ass up! Food!" My mom and I chuckle and my sister comes storming out. She shoots me an eye roll and gives my mom a hug. "Oh, I see the favoritism!" I joke and pour her some cereal.

"Lindsey, as one of my last days here, we are going to have a fun sister day! What do you think?" She looks at me, confused. "Great, go get ready and we'll leave in half an hour.

A little while later, I hop into the drivers seat and Lindsey gets in the back. Once we get to the end of the block, where my mother is no longer playing cop, Lindsey gets into the front seat and buckles her seatbelt.

After some silence, she speaks up. "I know you act like you can't wait to leave, but I really think that's all it is. An act. I think that really, you're afraid of the real world and what the hell your going to do, or even major in." She says to me, stone faced.

"That's a whole lot of philosophy for a nine year old. Maybe you should stick to dividing fractions and whatever it is you do in fourth grade." I reply and pull into a huge parking lot.

"What are we doing here? Theres nothing to do." She whines. "Can we just go home?"

I smile. "Teaching you how to drive." I get out of the car and walk around to the passenger seat. She doesn't move.

"You're not serious. Shit you're serious." She climbs over the cup holders and gear shift and plops down into the drivers seat. "Dude. You're crazy. When we total this car, you're going down for it." She crosses her arms. "You know what. No. I'm not doing this. I can't even reach the pedals!" She looks at me.

"Okay," I say, ignoring her. "Put your hands on the steering wheel, let me take care of the shift." I push the gear shift. "Okay, now take it for a little test ride and just press on the gas for a second, and then move your foot to the brake." I point to which is which.

She takes a deep breath and gives the gas a little jolt.

"AH!" she yelps. She pushes the gear shift to park. "No. Nope. Not doing this. Sorry, I hate to break up the bonding but this is a really bad idea."

"Just try." I say.

She looks at me and exhales. "Why do I listen to you?" She presses down on the gas. Her hands are shaking on the steering wheel.

"It's okay. Just let go, have fun." I urge.

She lets go and brakes. She puts the gas on again, for longer this time. Her pursed lips break into a smile and she pushes a little harder. Her smile disappears.

"Shit! There's a turn coming up! Shit! What do I do? What do I do?" she screams.

"You turn dumbass! Turn the freaking wheel! That's what its for!" We yell at each other in panic and she turns. After the turn, she brakes and we both sigh. We burst into laughter.

I take her to get ice cream after, because of the slight guilt that came with forcing my elementary school sister to drive a 2003 Honda. As we sit there with our ice cream telling stories and making fun of our dad, I feel a pit in my stomach. Maybe--just maybe--she could be a little bit right, about me not wanting to leave. Whatever. I swallow the feeling and lick her ice cream.

"Hey! You have your own right there!" We laugh and tease, and for the first time in a while, I realize how much I truly love my little sister.

"Okay. It's getting dark, get in the car and lets go home. Remember to get in the back seat at the end of the block."

As I lie my head down that night on my pillow, I smile and let myself dream.

2 days left

"Rise and shine!" My mom's voice echoes. "I let you sleep today, it's 8:30."

"What is wrong with you? I really don't get it. How can you wake up this early and be totally fine?" I shove my face under my pillow.

"Lindsey is at her friends house for the day, and I took a day off work because today is mother-daughter day. A day full of advice and lectures and shopping for you're first day of school outfit."

I stare at her. "Are you serious? You'll have to drag me out of here."

"Kidding, kidding. I figured we could pretend you're getting married and go to a fake cake tasting, then we could get belly piercings. Ooh and a tattoo." My mom eyes light up. I've never seen her like this. So open, so free.

After trying several different flavors of cake, I make a decision. I look at the store manager. "I think I have decided to go with the red velvet." I smile.

"Oh but I don't think your fiancé likes red velvet." My mom chimes in. "He likes the lemon."

"But mom, we only have enough money for one flavor of cake! I would get them both if I could." I begin to cry. The store manager looks genuinely concerned.

We walk out of there laughing hysterically with a lemon cake and a red velvet cake.

"Who are you and what have you done with my mother?!" I say giggling. "Now, I don't think I am up for a belly piercing. But a tattoo sounds fun.

"We're not actually getting a tattoo, right?" My mom says with a fading smile.

"Come on mom! We can get matching ones! For the sake of bonding!" I can see her considering it. "Please?!"

In the tattoo parlor we decide on what we want. After a good amount of pain and a good amount of cake, we leave with a tattoo of a slice of cake on both of our wrists. When we stumble out of the tattoo place, our rash decision to get a tattoo in the spur of the moment dawns on us.

"We probably should not have done that." My mother whispers.

"Probably not," I add, "Cake?"

The sun sets and the moon begins to rise. Mom and I get back in the car. "This next place is a surprise." she says. After twenty or so minutes of driving, we pull in to a cemetery.

"Wow, mom. This is dark. Way to kill the mood." I say.

We park the car and step into the cemetery. We sit on a bench, and my mom is quiet.

"It's night time mom, we should go home." I tell her.

"Lots of the people buried here, died young." She pauses.

"I know, mom"

"This could happen to any of us. At any moment of any day. Something could happen. I want you to live. I don't want you to pick a boring career that gives you money. Or never go out so you can study. Or never let your guard down with people. I haven't seen you cry since you were eleven years old. My point is, I want you to live. Don't look back in thirty years with a suitcase full of regrets. Dying is easy and fast. Living is hard and long. So promise me that you will live." She wipes a tear from her face.

I realize that she is right. I haven't let my guard down, or let myself make many friends. I haven't cried in front of people in years. I haven't even cried in front of myself in six months.

"I promise, mom" I grin

"Wow! Okay, enough heavy stuff." She says smiling and wiping the bottoms of her eyes with her finger. "Damn it."

"What?" I say. "Are you okay?"

She pauses. "We got freaking tattoos." We both laugh, and in that moment, I feel like I know my mother so much better then I did when I woke up this morning.

Just then a familiar feeling comes back. The feeling of me not wanting to leave the home I say I hate. Damn it. Never mind. I have been waiting to ditch this middle-of-nowhere town for my whole life. I'm excited! Freedom! Right?

As I lie my head down that night on my pillow, I smile and let a tear roll down my cheek.

1 day left

 The very moment I woke up, I decided to take this day for myself. My last day of childhood. After today, it's the real world. I got up and brushed my teeth and hair, and got dressed. I put on some light make up(which I never do), and looked in the mirror.

After a few moments of contemplation, I scrubbed it off. I skipped down the stairs with an unusual pep in my step.

"Hey Mom!" I kissed her on the cheek. "Gotta run!"

I grab my denim jacket off the hook by the door, and skip down the steps to my car. I open the door and plop into the drivers seat. I take a deep breath and think.

What is one thing you've always wanted to do?

Well, I got a tattoo and taught my sister to drive. What else is there? At that very moment, I have an idea. The perfect way to spend my last day as an innocent adolescent. I press on the gas and drive.

At the pharmacy, I pick out the ring that I want. I pay for my things and walk out the door. I run to my car and make a speed trip back to my house. I sneak in, risking being seen and run up the stairs to my room. Rummaging through my desk, I grab the thumb tack I was looking for, and slowly walk down the stairs, avoiding all the steps that creak. In the bathroom I collect my third item--alcohol swabs.

I swipe an apple from the fruit basket in the kitchen and slowly open the door. I know if my mom sees me she'll ask what I'm doing and then I'll have to lie. Then she'll know I was lying and ask me what I'm really doing. And then I'll have to tell her and she'll say I can't. And then I'll do it anyways and get punished.

Yeah, we bonded but that doesn't mean the world was magically turned upside down.

I quickly close the door and skip to my car. I drive to the park and find the tree on the hill I used to read at when I was little. Me and my best friend would come out here and play. Then she died. Then I stopped coming. Then my friends faded and my dad left. Then I changed.

I sit down for the first time in many years and take out the apple and the thumb tack. I pull out my Swiss Army knife from my jacket pocket and slice the apple. I take a piece of the apple and put it inside my nose. I disinfect the thumb tack and the ring I got in the pharmacy.

I take a deep breath and stop my hands from shaking. I can feel my heart beating in my stomach. I count to three:

1

Oh my God am I actually doing this?

2

What am I doing? This is definitely a terrible idea.

3

Shit now it's too late!

And before I know it, the thumb tack is through my nose and into the apple. It hurts so bad I want to scream. Instead, I laugh. I grab the nose ring and shove it through the hole I just poked. Tears run down my face and I laugh. I laugh and laugh until I feel like I have laughed enough for a lifetime and I just can't laugh anymore. I laugh out how much I have wanted to cry since Kate died. I laugh out as much as I have wanted to scream since my dad decided he wasn't "cut out for family life". I laugh out all the anger I had towards my mom for spending two weeks on the couch with a bottle of tequila after he left while I took care of a four year old. I laugh and I laugh and at this point it's not a tear its a whole damn army of tears.

Even though poking a nose ring into my skin might not seem like enough to trigger years of built up feelings, I haven't done anything like this. Ever. Nothing for me, nothing fun, nothing rebellious. I stayed home and I studied, so that I could get into a college far away and never look back.

My laughing comes to a slow halt and I breathe. I wipe my eyes and run my hands through my hair, looking out onto the almost empty park. So peaceful, so free.

I pull out my phone and look in my reflection at the nose ring. I smile. That's one thing I have always wanted to do. I walk back down the hill to my car, and from afar, I take one last look at the tree and decide not to come back. Not to replace this memory.

I drive and pull into our driveway. I open the door and my sister and mom are sitting at the countertop.

"We have leftover cake!" My mom smiles. "Lemon or red velvet?"

"Well," I reply, "Since my fiancé loves the lemon so much, I guess I will have to go with the red velvet." My mom and I laugh at my sisters confused face. We grab forks and dig in to our huge cakes, reminiscing and discussing our excitement for my new life.

As I lie my head down that night on my pillow, I smile and I wish that I had 3 days left.