• (A/N~ This is the story I worked on for my L/A class. I got some good comments on it, so I decided to post it here! Enjoy!)


    Pine Hills

    “Pine Hills really is a lovely place.” She says and I can’t help but agree. The walls are tastefully decorated with a gentle floral pattern, and the carpet is plush and easy on tired feet. It’s clean and tidy and the nurses who work here are quick to smile, efficient
    and kind.

    “It’s really a lovely place,” She repeats like an old record and she pauses her long pause, “but it’s kind of lonely.” The old woman’s eyes are somewhere else, and I can see she is somewhere else. Distant. I look at the clock on the wall and continue to listen, but I hear silence.

    “Don’t misunderstand me though.” She continues suddenly and my gaze snaps back to her. “I talk to the nurses sometimes, and I get excellent care. It’s just a bit lonely
    sometimes. That’s all.” She slowly spreads her lips and smiles. It’s a warm genuine one
    too.

    “Isn’t it time for you to go young lady? Don’t let me keep you from leaving. I’ll
    be fine.” She reminds me with a jerk of her head pointed to the clock, the one that does
    work. It’s 2:49 P.M. and I have eleven minutes to complete the thirty minute drive to my
    son’s school. Great. I shrug on my coat and give a brief smile.

    “It was nice talking to you again ma’am.” I say and she only laughs.
    “It’s Elysia dear. No need to be so polite! I’m just an old lady.” She says and waves me off with a flurry of fluttering hands. “Go! Young people would go crazy in a place like this.” I wave my goodbye and check the calendar before I go. It’s the seventh of November…




    When I arrive again, Elysia has taken her post at a chair by the window. Eyes stare at fresh frost, nature’s own holiday decorations for the Winter season. I let my knuckles wrap a quick knock on the door, signifying my arrival.

    “It’s snowing outside…” Elysia whispers.

    I raise an eyebrow. “I know,” I say. “I nearly got into a car accident in all that ice. Dangerous stuff, that snow. I guess I was lucky because on the way, another car had hydroplaned on some melted snow. It was pretty bad.”

    She doesn’t even look away from the window that is all covered in the pure white snow of a fresh winter morning. She is in her own world, and suddenly, I envy the woman. Finally she speaks, but it’s soft and slow, like a lazy, lumbering bear. “My daughter was born in a blizzard you know.”

    “Oh…” I say. I feel awkward and nervous. Something feels off and I wonder if she can feel it to. The tension that is surrounding me and flowing through my veins is growing slowly, like a slumbering beast. Can she feel it too?

    “She was my little snow baby. That’s what we called her, we did. We used to say she was as pretty as a snowflake and just as precious.” Her eyes grew misty and clouded as she continued, memories whirling like wispy winds of thoughts running rampant in the field of her mind. “Everybody loved her, my snow baby.”

    My eyes wandered to the nearby window, all frosted and iced. The clock on the wall ticked in a steady beat, and I glanced to read the time. 1:30 P.M. I have nothing if not time. I clear my throat. “What’s your daughter’s name?” I question, and at first, she doesn’t reply. She is locked up in her mind, swimming through a vast ocean of thoughts and memories that cradle her. I am on the cliff of a harsh reality, overlooking the souls that are drowning in their own minds. They can’t hear those who stand with me, and she’s no different.

    I know that I don’t belong anymore. I wait a few moments before picking up my coat and leaving. I almost feel bad, but she’ll be alright. She could use the time for herself. As I walk to my car, a feeling eats at my insides like ants. The steady burn of envy spreads through my blood, and heats my skin. I envy Elysia and her wanderlust mind, so free and careless. Her ocean, her mind. My memories, however are a cold inescapable cage, my jail, and I hate every trip I make. Those few people, gifted with such innocence, I hate them. I reach my car, and when I start the engine, a blast of heat pricks at my face, nipping at the cold. The radio crackles to life, and as the static clears, I hear the voice of the cheery weather girl on the 12.9 news station.
    “Today is December 4th folks, and boy is it cold!”




    It’s quiet when I arrive. A nurse is tidying up the room, her lips pursed as to produce a perky whistle. She shimmies around the room, cleaning here, spraying disinfectant there. When the click of the door reaches her ears, she snaps her head up to investigate, like a dog. She sees me and smiles. “You’re here for Mrs. Elysia Wren, right?”

    “Yeah,” I say. “I am. Where is she?” I peer around the nurse, but no Elysia.

    “Oh,” She lilts, cocking her head to the side, “she’s not feeling well today. Feel free to come back tomorrow though!” She chirps, and smiles this huge grin that’s as bright as a heavy-duty super light bulb. It’s hard to refrain from cringing.

    “Okay.” I say and move to the door. “I’ll do just that.” She nods violently, grin in tact. She reminds me of birthday cake, so sugary sweet, but leaves you wanting to vomit after having too much.

    When I pull into the driveway of my house, my son sees me and leaves. He leaves his old battery operated TV set still running on a news channel, and I can hear the newscasters chatter.
    “It’s December 20th! Be sure to watch the road when you drive. The snow has been causing many accidents, in fact…”




    Christmas was always a quite day in our house, or as my son likes to call it, “My tiny shack”. I remember watching him rip open presents with gusto, eager to see what present he got from me. Now though, he sighs and yells, angry with me, for not getting him the newest gadget of electronic crap that hits the shelves. I feel bad. I know that we don’t have a lot, and he’s young. I can’t do anything that I haven’t already tried.

    So, instead of being home to celebrate with a happy family, I’m here at Pine Hills. I’ve never seen Mrs. Elysia with any visitors, so I figured she wouldn’t mind, and sure enough, she was there, a picture on her lap.

    “Ah, it’s good to see you! Take a seat dear. I made a scarf for you in case you came today. Just a simple Christmas gift.” Elysia gestured to a knit scarf on the bedside table. I was almost surprised when I saw her. She looked so tiny and pale, and her eyes were glassy and dull. I looked away taking the scarf into my fingers.

    “So how are you? How’s your son?” She asks. I only shrug.

    “He’s not one for the festive season…” I hesitate. “You weren’t here last time I came. The nurse said you weren’t feeling so well. Are you feeling well now?”

    “Oh, I remember hearing about a visitor. I thought that was you! There’s no need to fuss about me dear. I was just under the weather.” It was a lie, of course. A rather bad one at that. No healthy person looks like she does. But then again, who am I to call her on it?

    “That’s a nice picture. Who’s in it?” I say, motioning to the crinkled photo in her hands. It’s old and weathered, but still intact.

    “This? It’s a picture of my daughter and I when she was about five, I believe. Pretty, wasn’t she?” She hands me the picture gently. Two people are in the picture, one a tall woman whose beauty is quiet, but stunning. The other is a delicate girl, all bundled up in a heavy pink coat with too-long sleeves, hiding tiny hands. They look gorgeous together, with their smiles and nice clothes.

    “That’s one of the best pictures of my little Alicia, don’t you think?” She asks, expectant.

    “It is a nice picture.” I agree. “I’ve never seen her before. How does she look now?” I ask, but she frowns.

    “I wouldn’t know. She hasn’t visited me since she signed the papers to keep me here. I think she lives nearby, but I wouldn’t know.”

    “What? Why?” Questions swirl, but I keep them held tightly.

    “Oh, I suppose I never told you, did I? Well, Alicia’s father was a cold man, you see. He was always out on ‘business trips’,” She squeezed her fingers to make quotation marks. “and he wouldn’t be back for weeks, months even, leaving me and Alicia all alone. Eventually, he just left, leaving us the house and a few hundred dollars attached to a sloppy note. Pity, really. I didn’t care, I hated the man, but Alicia…Alicia took it hard. She hated me, blamed me. I understand, though. She loved the man, for all his faults.” She cracked her neck and continued. “As soon as she could, Alicia left. I’ve only seen her twice. I miss her, honestly. I miss her so much that it hurts.” She dabs at her eyes with weathered old hands. “I just want to hold her and make everything right. That’s what all parents want, right?”

    “Yeah,” I say, because I know more than anyone, “That’s all we want.” My chest tightens painfully, and my body aches. “Have you tried to contact her?”

    “Of course I have! Letters, calls, all ignored. She doesn’t want to see me, but that’s okay. As long as she’s happy, right?”

    I want to yell, scream. It’s not right, none of this is. I can’t though. Not when she looks at me, pleading silently to just agree. “Yeah. As long as she’s happy.”

    We sit in silence for what feels like hours. There’s a mutual understanding between us that only we as mothers could understand. She turns to face the window and I know we are done.

    “Your son…Don’t you need to pick him up? It’s 2:20.” She says and I take the hint. There’s nothing left for me here now anyway.

    When I reach my car, I crumble. I feel drained and cold, even with the heat puffing from the AC unit. My son, so much like Alicia…Would he do the same? Would he abandon me to a life of despair and loneliness in a place where my only company is a dime-a-dozen nurse with her fake sugar-sweet smile? I lean my head on the dashboard and feel tears trickle against my face. I’m in no hurry.
    It’s Christmas. My son is on Winter Break.



    It was almost two months before I visited again, and I felt guilty. When I arrived, however, the door was open and and Elysia’s room was empty and bare. The megawatt nurse was there again, changing sheets on a familiar bed. She hears the click of the door and her head snaps up. It’s all too familiar, but something is different, almost surreal. The nurse is not smiling, and I know something is wrong. “Are you looking for Elysia?” She asks and I nod. The nurse looks nervous when she speaks, and then I knew. Cold dread seeps through pores in my skin and chills my veins.

    “Where is she?” I ask, hoping that I’m wrong. “Is she…?”

    “Elysia passed away last night. She left you this.” The nurse reaches behind her and gives me a slip of paper and a quilt. On the paper, an address was written and a note to me.

    To my dearest friend,
    I give this letter to you in the hopes that you’ll do one last thing for an old woman like me. Give this quilt to my daughter and this letter as well. This is my last wish for you. Marietta, you have touched my soul and left a warmth there that I will always hold in my heart. It’s not to late to fix what’s wrong. Don’t give up. I’ll always believe in you.

    Yours truly,
    Elysia Wren.

    Marietta. She never once called me by my own name, now that I think about it. It hurts in the sweetest way. I want to grieve, but I know that I have a job to do.




    The drive to the address on the paper takes 15 minutes. Trepidation beats like a drum and pumps through my blood as I knock. A tired woman answers the door, and I can feel the guard she places against me. Distrust sparks beneath her eyes. “Yes?” She asks cautiously.

    “Are you Alicia Wren?” I ask, and she nods. I continue. “My name is Marietta Norman. I was a friend of your mother.”

    “Was?” She questions. “What do you mean?” I don’t know what to say, so I hand her the letter. “Oh, well, come inside. You’ll get sick in the cold.”

    She leads me to a small cozy living room and gestures to a couch. “Have a seat.” She says. I do. We sit in silence as she reads and I brace myself for the unknown. It isn’t until I hear a gasp that I look up.

    “Oh god…” She whispers and I freeze. She leans her head against the tabletop she’s stationed and I don’t know what to do. It isn’t until I hear soft sobbing that I make decision. I press my hand to her shoulder and she sobs louder.

    “She loved you with all her heart.” I say. “Keep that in mind.” I leave the quilt her mother, Elysia, so lovingly made on the couch and leave. I’m no longer needed.




    The car rolls onto the driveway and the first thing I see is my son. I’m tired, weary even, but I have to do this. My throat croaks, rusty and dry. “Hey.” I say.

    “Hey.” He returns. He looks curious, and I motion him over. He eyes me, uncertain, but I insist.

    I pull him into my arms and hold him tight. At first, he stands there, but I could feel his arms gently wrap around me, until he holds on just as tight. “Next Saturday I have the day off. You want to do something? Just you and me?” I ask.

    “Yeah.” He says, and smiles. And for me, that’s all I need. That’s all I’ll ever need.