CNF: The Boy Who Loved Me

 

 

A boy who never grew up told me he loved me. He held my hand in his, touched the back of my head to bring me into a deep hug and kissed my forehead whenever I felt sad. I didn’t get to know him, not in the way he was when he died, as it had been months since we last spoke but I’ll never forget how he tilted toward me when he said the words and I toward him, my hand on his knee, waiting for him to look into my eyes and see the truth. I told him I didn’t feel the same, when he said he loved me, and he understood. We were too young and I hadn’t learned what it meant to be loved yet or how to give it back. 

He brought me flowers, this one time before the end, and I took them warily. I was honest, as much as a teen who knew nothing about the world could be, and I didn’t want him to think that I was changing my mind about my feelings but he shook his head at me, laughed and said I shouldn’t feel ashamed. That it’s ok to not love someone. It’s ok. It’s alright. It doesn’t mean we still can’t be friends.

I was in my room in the house where I had been adopted when I heard. Because I had outgrown the other foster kids, the new ones that came and went on a revolving door, I had been moved down to the den. The bed was large, it filled the small room almost completely, it’s sides nearly touching walls, touching the window, touching the dresser and stopping the drawers. It secluded me there, and it would hold my grief.

 My adopted dad, always the one with the soft heart and a softer voice, knocked on the door just as soft. I told him to come in and I should’ve known from the way his eyes looked down and his mouth drooped at the corners and his cheeks were swiped sideways with wetness, dashed away tears recently spent. I sat up and crossed my legs with the flexibility of an athletic teen. He said my name three times and then was silent. I didn’t know who but I knew what. 

He said the boy who loved me was dead. Murdered. They had found him chopped up and stuffed into a large garbage bag. The suspect had been pushing him in a grocery cart, blood seeping from the side, dripping down onto the ground, onto the street, where others could see and call to the cops ‘Someone is dead!’ I listened but I didn’t reply, didn’t react.

I sat there, my eyes on my father and his eyes on me. His wet eyes for a young boy who’d lost his life, treated like waste. Human waste thrown out with the soda cans and the banana peels and the plastic straws that will ruin the environment and the teeth bitten sunflower seed shells and the other things. Then my dad closed his eyes and I knew he wasn’t through. I knew he had more to say and that whatever it was it hurt him more than it hurt me. But he didn’t say it. So, I tilted my head back and let myself drop.

My head hit the soft comforter and the tears rolled sideways. They dropped into my ears and pooled there and I wished they would fill and fill. My chest shook and then my stomach and then I was rolling sideways. I drew up like a fetus and grabbed at my wrists, my biceps, my shoulders. It wrecked me, what he said, and I sucked in air as fast as I could. Then I coughed. I coughed and I squeezed until my arms hurt and then there he was. My dad. Wrapping his big arms around me, his protruding belly pushing into my back, his tears on my shoulder. 

He spoke about god’s plan but I didn’t want to hear it. I knew he didn’t believe it either. He said a lot of things he didn’t believe, I knew.

Later the real pain came. The words he didn’t want to say were said by my adoptive mother. It was a week later, if I remember correctly but to be honest those days blended together and it could’ve been weeks or months or maybe a summer. She said that the person who had killed him was related to one of the foster girls who would come stay with us – and to one who already had. Their brother. She wanted to know if it was ok. She asked me if it was ok. If I would be ok with that. If I was ok. 

No. I wasn’t ok and I was never ok with that. But I was alone. Everyone else said yes. The other foster kids. No one knew him like I did. They didn’t know that he loved me. That he told me it was ok that I didn’t love him in return. They didn’t know that I had taken it as an out because it meant I didn’t hurt him and he couldn’t hurt me. So, she came to stay. 

And it was my fault, the way I treated her from that moment on. She had her problems, she was dangerous, she fought and scratched and attacked like the other foster kids who came and went and more. But a murderer shared her face and I couldn’t look at her without looking at him and it ate me inside. For the time she was with us it festered in me for the boy it was ok not to love. I couldn’t hate, as it wasn’t my way, but I tried. I wanted to hate her just as much as I wanted to love him.      

Book Review: I’ll Walk Alone by Mary Higgins Clark

 “Almost two years after someone snatched Alexandra “Zan” Moreland’s then three-year-old son, Matthew, from his stroller while his sitter dozed, Zan, a New York City interior designer who remains devastated, has been unable to trace her son. To make matters worse, somebody is using her credit cards to purchase expensive items just as she’s on the verge of landing a prestigious account for her fledgling business. Worst of all, evidence emerges that suggests Zan kidnapped her own son. Meanwhile, a priest is troubled by a woman whose confession reveals that a murder is being planned. Contrivances that prevent key information from reaching the heroine as well as characters without personality in the service of a plot with at least one major hole won’t please those who prefer their suspense firmly grounded in reality and logic.”*

 

It almost happened again. I almost let it happen again. It t’was the night before Christmas…just kidding. It was about 2am this morning and I started to read an e-book that was recommended to me earlier in the day and then I thought, Crap! I need to read those damn library books! So I went to the large stack sitting on my dinning room table and picked up I’ll Walk Alone by Mary Higgins Clark. I got into the book and it took me until, around, 4am to finish it.

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I thought the book was pretty great, although there were some parts that really annoyed me. It’s already established from the first moment that someone is impersonating her and that most won’t believe it but she spends the majority of the book acting like a crazy person. She often asks herself if she really did have something to do with her son’s disappearance. Of course, I expected her to be upset, frustrated, exhausted and even a little unhinged but the dramatics was an unnecessary addition to the plot twist.  I feel as if we didn’t answer most of the questions (lotta worry, lotta call backs with no pay off; thinking of the Stephen King suspense method).

I am always a fan of hers but I definitely pay attention to each book as it’s own separate work. I must say, I did enjoy the plot twist in this one. It wasn’t as explosive as some of her other stories but I enjoyed it. I’d recommend this book if you just need something to curl up with or a quick read with a little suspense.

If you’ve read this book, if you liked it, disliked it, hated it or haven’t read it but have plan to…let me know! I’d love to hear your thoughts. And if you have any book suggestions for me to read or any reviews you’d like to see here, let me know!

Happy Reading.

Jade

 

*Link to Book and synopsis: http://bit.ly/2CTpnPG

Love this! : 15 Times We’ve Cheered For The Bad Guys In Movies

It’s good to be bad. Villains are always the most interesting characters, because they lack a moral compass and base their decisions often on emotion rather than rational thought. They’re fun, exciting, and unpredictable, whereas heroes tend to be bland and generic. It’s because of this dynamic that fans often like the bad guy more than […]

via 3Novices : 15 Times We Cheered For The Bad Guy In Movies — threenovices

Book Review: Invisible by James Patterson and David Ellis

Hello,

I know that I need to begin uploading more reviews. I actually have a few that I need to write. I just had exams coming up for school and I really wanted to focus on that. Obviously, as I am about to write one for you now, that didn’t deter me completely. So here goes.

I have to admit, I am already in love with James Patterson as a writer. I just have never read any of his stories made for the more adult audience. I read (and actually have) the entire Angel serious novels with Max, Fang and the gang and I have loved it ever since I discovered it before highschool (I think it was before). Anyway, so I didn’t think that I WOULDN’T like the novel, I just didnt’ know what to expect.

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Invisible by both Patterson and David Ellis is, hands down, one of the best novels I’ve ever read in all of my life. The relationship between the characters. The description of the U.S. and the laughter in the killer’s “voice” as he mocked his ‘subjects’. It all meshed together so beautifully that I didn’t mind that the novel, in all it’s parts, was in first person. The twists and turns, the parts that I laughed at that no sane human would dare, the bloody details that would make anyone cringe; it was all very note worthy and well played. The crazy thing is that I fell in love with the killer’s character. The killers straight forwardness in the story, the want to express himself to his peasants, the nonchalant way the killings were addressed. It resonated with me and I couldn’t help but notice how beautifully worked the character’s personality and intricacies are.

If you were to ask anyone who’d been around me while reading the novel they’d definitely agree that I enjoyed it. I couldn’t contain my respect for the author’s ingenuousness. It seemed that every time I cracked the book open I didn’t want to put it down. Honestly, I almost didn’t want to finish it because I was afraid that I might not like the ending…I wanted to stay in this little bubble of when the book was amazing. AND I’M GLAD I DID! The ending was definitely a vital part of my respect for Patterson and Ellis. That little twist that did me in! I hope that my coworker never wants to read the novel because I was so excited I had to tell someone! I ruined everything and told her the plot twists, how the story turned out and everything. (I just had to backspace because I realized I’d given away a part of the book and I definitely don’t want to spoil it for you).

I definitely recommend this book to anyone. It doesn’t matter the genre you usually read. This would fit on anyone’s shelf, hey! I read romance and it blew me away. If you have read this novel or decide to read it comment below. Let me know what you are thinking or how you felt about the novel? Did you just LOVE Emmy as much as I did? Does Books seem like a story time hunk to you?

Anyway, bye for now! I’m definitely going to look further into James Patterson, the adult side. You never know, you might find a bunch of book reviews from him after this…I also want to check out David Ellis. I had never heard of him before this but if he had anything to do with this novel I definitely want to learn more.

Jade

P.S. I just realized that “definitely” is probably my favorite word when writing book reviews.