A Kiss and a Cuddle Read Online Free PDF

towards the door with my
blue skirt rustling against my body.
    He
opened the door and stepped into the house.  He was carrying flowers and handed
them to my mother as he said, “Happy Valentine’s Day, dear.”
    “Oh,
honey, thank you!” my mom exclaimed as they hugged.
    “And
I can’t forget this…” he said, as he pulled a blue envelope from behind his
back and held it out towards my mom.
    I
could feel the mood in the room change, as she looked down at the envelope and
back up at him.  Her face was empty, as he continued to hold it in front of
her.
    “Well,
aren’t you going to open it?” he asked, smiling.
    “Rose,
go up to your bedroom and put on your cassette tapes and headphones,” my mom
said sternly, not taking her gaze off of the envelope.
    I
ran upstairs to my bedroom and put my headphones on.  I pressed play and
listened to the music while lying on my bed.  My stomach was in knots, and I
could sense that something was very wrong.  I soon heard yelling, and I ripped
my headphones and sat up in my bed, with my eyes wide and my heart pounding.  There
was silence for a long time, until I heard a door slam.  I heard the truck engine
start up, roar, and fade into nothing.  Then all that was left was the sound of
the gears of my cassette player earnestly turning and the faint sound of Elton
John leaking through my headphones.  That was the last time I saw him.
    That
day, all I was left with was my music, and I dived even further in.  Music
became my escape, and singing became my release.  I did not dare ask my mother
about what happened that day.  We did not talk about him when I was growing
up.  A couple of years ago, when I was home from Denver for Christmas, my mom
finally told me what happened.  We were sitting on the floor in the living
room, under the Christmas tree.  I supposed that the warmth of my smile, the
red glow coming from the Christmas lights, and the hushed sounds of wind
blowing outside created a soft place for my mother’s words to land.
    She
was cleaning my father’s den earlier in the week when a Valentine’s Day card
fell out from one of his books.  She knew that it would spoil the surprise, but
she opened it up to read the card.  She recognized my father’s writing inside
and smiled at his romantic words.  She discreetly put it back into the book and
left it to look untouched.  This card, however, was in a red envelope, not blue. 
He didn’t write it for her.  He wrote it for someone else. 
    My
mom explained that when I was four years old, she was pregnant with another baby
girl but had lost it after five months.  Losing the baby put a terrible strain
on their relationship.  They were both devastated, but weren’t able to share
the pain with the other.  Instead, it became something that they didn’t talk
about, and it slowly ate away at the relationship, until there wasn’t one.  My
mom took comfort by spending more time with me, and my dad took comfort by
spending time with another woman.  
    I
was sad to hear of the loss of my sister that I had never known and will never
know.  It was another tragedy that I would have to try to stop myself from
thinking about for the rest of my life, along with being abandoned by my
father.  The pain was too much for one girl to cope with.
    We
cried and hugged silently afterwards.  We were all the other needed in the
world.  And more than ever before, I wanted to make her proud of me, so that
she knew the sacrifices she made for me were worth it.

EIGHT
    The
next morning, I was awoken by the frenzied buzz of my cell phone once again.  The
sun naturally lit up my entire room.  I looked at the clock and it was
12:30PM.  I was shocked that I slept in this late again.  What was wrong with
me?  Was I depressed?   I quickly grabbed my phone from my bedside table to
make the incessant buzzing stop.  I could see the words “MOM” flashing on my
screen along with our picture.
    “Good
morning, Mom,” I whispered