When The Rain Falls - Book 1 by N, Y. (reading in the dark .TXT) 📖

and so do I.

 

 

Chapter Two: Non-Stop Trip

 

After a couple long hours of driving my cruiser bike, I make it to Denson street.

 

The apartment my mom lives on, her work apartment.

 

 

I quickly hid my cruiser bike in the storage unit my mom had beside the apartment homes. I wouldn't think of cruising my way to New York, then hitch a plane to Paris.

 

 

A metro bus was coming my way as I locked the storage unit. Running away isn't my best choice, but it's what I have to do.

 

Heck, it's what I always wanted to do.

 

 

The doors opened and I stepped up into the bus.

 

The bus driver stopped me.

 

"50 cents for 25 miles and $1.00 for out of state." said the bus driver.

 

 

I answered nervously.

 

"Do you think maybe $2.00 can get me to New York?"

 

"I can only go up to the suburbs." she said getting annoyed.

 

 

I sighed looking down at my front pocket.

 

She answered again. ''Suburbs of New York."

 

She smiled.

 

 

I smiled back. I felt happiness come across my face as I felt overjoyed.

 

"Great, how much do I have to pay?" I said picking out the cents I had in my pocket.

 

She sighed. "Just sit down."

 

 

I walked down the bus aisle and chose to sit 2 seats from the back.

 

As I sat down, I looked around the bus. Only two other people were on.

 

 

I was on my way, running away from home and never coming back.

 

The bus ride from Rosewood, Georgia to the suburbs up in New York was long.

 

 

Not many people came on or left for a long time. At night fall, I finally fell asleep making sure I was hugging my bags so no one could steal them.

 

 

When I woke up, I heard the bus driver yelling at me.

 

I blinked a couple times.

 

"Young girl, i'm gonna have to ask you one more time. Get off the bus, this is how far I go."

 

 

I got up from lying down on the hard bus seat and rubbed my eyes.

 

"Are we in New York?" I asked.

 

"Yes, and you need to get off my bus!" The bus driver said annoyed.

 

She had a concerned look on her face.

 

 

I shook my head and dug my hand in my pocket for money. I took out the 2 dollars I had in my pocket and handed it to her.

 

 

She looked off to the side. "No need to pay, just go. I know how you young kids can be. Just go."

 

She smiled slightly.

 

"Thanks." I said.

 

 

As I got off, she asked a question.

 

"Where are you going anways?"

 

"Going up to Manhattan, I have some old things I need to revisit here." I replied.

 

 

The bus driver smiled again. "Good luck."

 

She closed the bus doors and drove off.

 

 

 I waved my hands for another bus in view. And when I finally got a ride, I looked up at the sights of the buildings.

 

"I'm here." I said silently to myself.

 

 

It's amazing how young I am to be in Manhattan.

 

When I got off the bus I rode in from the suburbs, I walked down a long street to where I used to live with my parents.

 

 

The Yodo apartment homes.

 

I remember so much from living here, the friends I met and knew since daycare and the block parties I went to during the summer and the big New Years celebration here.

 

 

I looked up. There it was my home sweet home.

 

Standing there looking at the building where I used to live is so....weird. To think of the memories you had be all gone, but still in your head when you revisit a place is mind boggling.

 

 

I walk into the building and just like always I take a deep breath.

 

I knew I was back home.

 

I never told anyone. But I secretly one day, when my parents were out, went to a shop where they duplicate keys and got a copy of the apartment’s key.

 

Lucky I put it in a safe place where no one would ever look.

 

The garden.

 

 

The garden was on the 3rd floor. But I used live on the 5th floor and I hid it where Mrs. Wilson lives. She was a neighbor we knew on the 3rd floor.

 

So quiet and peaceful. Her apartment brings back memories.

 

 

I sneaked in like I did before, like that one time I accidentally lost my basketball chain from when I got my first key for my bike lock. 

 

It was when I started riding my bike on Saturdays.

 

I remember I saw Mrs. Wilson on a rocking chair, she was old like any other person her age.

 

 

She had a silent ring in her speaking. Like as if she was someone to be remembered.

 

But I don’t remember much about her.

 

But, one spring break, I visited her apartment and she told about life and how to live in a world where you're not wrong or right.

 

I learned so much from her, and now the apartment is empty.

 

 

When I opened the door, it was unlocked because she always kept it open to anyone. I look at the corner where her rocking chair used to be and it’s still there, but everything else isn’t. Only her rocking chair and the garden is left in the apartment.

 

 

It’s so sad, the last time I saw her was when I was moving to Paris.

 

I never said goodbye for good, but even if I went back in time to reverse that day and say bye, I would have seen her for the last time and know I had good memories with her.  

 

 

I went out on the small balcony and start looking for the keys under the hydrangeas, but it’s not there.

 

I look under the ficus, it’s not there. Finally I look for the tropical brazil nut plant she had and bingo, I found it.

 

 

Afterwards, I finally said my goodbye in a whisper to Mrs. Wilson. She was a great, wise and a wonderful lady. She deserved so much in life.

 

I grab the key and went to the elevator across from her apartment.

 

 

The doors open, I walk in and press the button with the number 5.

 

I never thought i'd ever see our old apartment. I’m actually scared, because my mom is probably on her way home in Rosewood right now.

 

 

She has a place to stay near where she works and for her anger management classes she's finishing now. So when she’s ready to go home, it takes only a day because the bank is so far away from Rosewood and she makes an overnight ride every other day.

 

 

As soon as the doors open, I walk past 7 doors to the left and at the end of the hallway, near the exit door, there it is.

 

The apartment. Number 37.

 

I slowly walk to the door put in the key and it unlocked, in relief I rejoiced. Because I was hoping they didn’t change the lock or if it was the wrong key.

 

 

The door opens slowly when I push against it.

 

I close the door behind me quickly.

 

 

Everything looks the same from when we left.

 

So many things run through my head. I took my first step in this apartment, I went to preschool and came home everyday to this apartment.

 

I learned how to cook with mom for the first time in the apartment.

 

I found my inspiration in this apartment.

 

 

I walk down the hallway to the room I had when I lived here. When I was done I walked through the kitchen and touched the pots and pan that hung from the ceiling rack above.

 

 

Mom had to leave most of everything behind, because the landlord was selecting some apartments to be changed and furnished so they could put it in the ads.

 

I looked at the same window I looked at when I was 5. Before we left to Paris.

 

I couldn’t stop staring into it. I don’t want to leave but I have to, it’s for the good of my family and it has to happen now. 

 

 

I quickly did something for mom to find when she gets here somehow, then she'll know I was here.

 

I put the key in the lock and locked the door behind me, as I walked to the elevator.

 

As soon as I made it out of the building, I take one last look and waved for a taxi to take me to the airport.

 

 

I had a diamond incrusted necklace I took from mom's room. I remember mom telling me when I was younger she wore it all the time and it's worth $12,000.

 

I figure this can get me a ticket. 

 

--

 

When I walked into the airport, most people looked at me weird and some ignored me. I must have been really short over the years, I guess people still think I look like a teen.

 

 

I reached the front desk to buy a ticket, as an older woman asked questions to the people that were older than me.

 

"Which flight?" she said not making eye contact.

 

"Excuse me, i'd like a ticket for a Paris flight please." I said in the most mannered way.

  

"How old are are you?" she asked finally looking up.

 

"I'm 18 ma'am." I said looking over the desk.

 

 

Her desk was clean and sorted. She had a glass full of nail files.

 

"Well isn't that interesting." she said, printing out something.

 

 

She ripped it off the printer and headed towards me.

 

"Here ya go, please be patient your takeoff will be ready shortly." she said, looking down at her manicured nails.

 

 

She punched some numbers in her computer then looked up at me with the ticket in her hand.

 

"Have a nice flight." she said looking at me.

 

 

She handed me the flight ticket and told me to wait 2 hours. My flight was delayed.

 

I sat down nervously looking around at other people who were waiting for the same flight as me.

 

 

 

Finally I got on my flight after what seemed like hours and we were off.  

 

The ride was bumpy, but safe.

 

 

And when I arrived, I looked around and saw that this wasn't Paris.

 

 

I saw things written in a different choice of words, more exquisite.

 

I ran across the street to a payphone.

 

I pushed the numbers hurriedly and some odd woman like voice answered sounding british.

 

 

I hung up the phone and ran back into the airport.

 

 

"This can't be right." I whispered to myself.

 

I looked around again as I passed people coming from their flight.

 

 

"Where's the eiffel tower and warm weather. And where's the mimes on the street?" I said complaining, as I looked out the airport windows.

 

 

I saw a few big planes fly by and some land.

 

I read silently. "London Air"

 

 

I was shocked.

 

I was in London.

 

 

But how?

 

I sat down on a chair in shock. My heart was beating so fast.

 

The lady at the front desk gave me the wrong ticket back in New York.

 

 

I went up to a front desk nearbyin the airport.

 

"Excuse me, there's been a mistake. I'm suppose to be in Paris, not cold London!" I said mad.

 

 

The young lady at the front desk ignored me.

 

"Flight 8012567 that just departed was the flight to London from New York, and as for Paris?" she typed something into her computer.

 

"There was no flight for New York to Paris yesterday." she said popping her buggle gum.

 

 

That can't be. I told her I was going to Paris.

 

I was upset. That means, I could have been back in Rosewood at this time instead of going to London. How am I gonna get back to New York now, i'll have to steal something vauleable to trade in a pawn shop again.

 

 

"Can