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TITLE (EDIT)
My Last Addiction |
DESCRIPTION
A story about a young guy and his life's addiction.
[1,265 words] |
AUTHOR
Kimball |
ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
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[February 2007] |
AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (5)
A Job Well Done (Short Stories) This is about a guy who has a unique way of getting people to reach nirvana. this is just telling how he manages to change one persons life forever. [2,488 words]
Alive (Short Stories) Just a little story I wrote when I was bored one night [606 words]
Last Caress (Short Stories) A story about a guy and his lost love. I wrote this in about an hour. needs refinement. looking for constructive criticism. ill update it with the refined version soon. [1,119 words]
The Love Of A Mother (Short Stories) A story I wrote last year, but never got around to submitting. [1,253 words]
Unrequited Love (Short Stories) A drunken rewrite of a previous story. [674 words]
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My Last Addiction
Kimball
There are many ways that people cope with stress. Some popular albeit harmful ways are with alcohol or drugs. I have tried those ways before. They don’t work. I’ve found another way, but it’s way more addicting.
I married Chelsea right out of high school. We had been sweethearts since our sophomore year and felt we were meant for each other. She was a beautiful, blonde, curvy cheerleader; I was the popular quarterback for the football team. It seemed natural that we would be interested in each other. We loved each other. I had eyes for no other girl but her. She had eyes for no other guy but me.
Everything was so easy in high school. Kids don’t understand that now anymore. They just want to grow up so quick. I liked high school. Real life is not like high school. Nowhere near it. There are no proms to be crowned king of. There are no make-up tests in real life. High school is a sham.
I married Chelsea right out of high school because she became pregnant. That’s when Fate first told me that he was in charge. The marriage was rushed because Chelsea didn’t want to be showing on her wedding day. Neither of our parents approved of it, but they didn’t have much say in it. We were going to be together forever.
Our marriage was short, but it was sweet. I worked hard and our parents both contributed money so that we were able to afford our own apartment. It was small, but it was nice. I must admit I wasn’t too excited about becoming a father, but Chelsea couldn’t wait to become a mother. She would be a wonderful mother, even I knew that. She was in charge of everything baby related. She bought a crib, bought clothes, arranged several meetings with her OB-GYN to monitor the development of the baby. She was falling into the role of mother much better than I was into the role of father. When the baby kicked, she’d get excited and call me over to feel if I was around. If I wasn’t she told me about it the second I walked into the door. Feeling the baby squirming around didn’t trigger any primal sense of fatherhood for me. I only cared about it because Chelsea cared about it and anything she cared about I cared about.
On November 28, I was working when I received a call from Chelsea. She said her water broke and she needed me to take her to the hospital right away. When I arrived home she was waiting, her overnight bag in hand. She hopped into the passenger seat and I sped off, not worrying about speed limits. Chelsea was constantly telling me to slow down, that I didn’t need to kill us all in the process of getting her to the hospital. We arrived safely and while Chelsea was getting checked in I called both of our parents and told them what was happening. They each said they’d rush down. Chelsea’s parents arrived about ten minutes later and mine arrived about fifteen minutes after them.
Things went downhill from there. During the labor I had to leave the room because of complications. Half an hour later I had a healthy little girl and a dead wife. I don’t remember anything of the next few weeks. My parents took care of Katie, as she was named, and Chelsea’s parents took care of the funeral arrangements. Me, I slept. I cried. I slept some more, followed by a lot more crying.
Once I was able to go a day without crying, I tried to get my life together. I moved out of the apartment and moved back in with my folks. They watched Katie while I worked. When I got home, I’d take care of her. By taking care of her I meant I changed her diapers and fed her. We didn’t bond. They say becoming a parent changes you; well it changed me, just not in the way they meant. I hated Katie. I blamed her for Chelsea’s death. When I looked at her I was reminded I’d never have Chelsea back.
My parents kept saying that it would change, that one day I would look at her and only feel love. It just wasn’t happening though. The months went by and nothing changed. I spent Katie’s first birthday locked in my room crying. My parents had a little party for her and bought her a few baby toys and I could hear them laughing and playing with Katie. I fell asleep that night wishing she had never been born.
Katie’s first word wasn’t momma or papa. It was nana. My mother simply adored her and spent almost every waking moment with her. She was there when Katie took her first steps; she was there when Katie spoke her first word; she was there when Katie first used the potty. I don’t think Katie even called me daddy in the first three years of her life.
One night a few months after Katie’s third birthday I dreamt about Chelsea. I often dreamt about her, but this dream was different. This dream was real. Chelsea told me that she was disappointed in me. She said that Katie was a part of me as well as a part of her. She was the most perfect thing that we could have created. She told me not to blame Katie for her death, that if she was meant to die to bring Katie into the world, she was okay with it. Lastly, she told me to be a good father.
I woke up from that dream feeling cleansed. I felt as if something had been removed from me while I slept; something removed that was better off gone. I got out of bed and walked into Katie’s room. I watched her suck her thumb in her sleep and I noticed how much like Chelsea she was. She had Chelsea’s nose, her face, her lips. I knew right then that I couldn’t hate her anymore. Love didn’t begin to express what I felt for her. She was my world. She was the most beautiful thing in existence. I knew what I was going to do. I was going to be the best damn father I could be. I had lost three years, and I didn’t want to waste another second.
I called in sick that morning and spent the rest of the day trying to make up for lost time. She didn’t take to me very quick at first, but I was persistent. By the time she started kindergarten we were as close as could be. She’d always give me a big hug and kiss before she got on the bus. Every time I watch her leave, I cry. I worry that she’ll never come back. Losing Chelsea was hard, but I couldn’t stand to lose Katie. Every night after she’s brushed her teeth I sit in bed with her and read her a bedtime story. Occasionally she asks me about her mother. I smile a little and tell her that her mother was the most wonderful person in the world and that her mommy loves her very much. Then after she falls asleep, I tuck her in and kiss her on the forehead. She is my addiction and I will be hooked on her until the day I die.
Katie, if you ever read this I want you to know that daddy loves you.
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READER'S REVIEWS (3)
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"hmm...i liked it. quite nice in fact. very moving. keep it up" -- James.
"wow....amazingly touching and beautifully constructed" -- fred.
"wow matt i did not know you were capable of happy endings! i liked it." -- Melissa Cat, St Louis, missouri, USA.
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COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 2005 Kimball |
STORYMANIA PUBLICATION DATE
May 2005 |
NUMBER OF TIMES TITLE VIEWED
2471
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