NaNoWriMo-untitled novel-Chapter four

*again, leave any and all comments*

Leaving home that day had been hard for me. I woke up at four and crept downstairs and back again, loading my car with clothes and food. When it was loaded, I sat the kitchen table with my mom’s grocery list pad, clicked a pen and thought.
It was then I heard her moving upstairs and her bedroom door opening. In a flash, I dropped the pen and ran outside and into my car. I started it and flung it into reverse and I sped down the street. As I went to turn left out of town, I saw our front door open and her head peek out. Her head was turned my direction, but I lost it from view as I turned and I never looked back.
The entire time I drove the day, I was in a shock. I alternated between being quiet with tears streaming down my face, to screaming and hitting the steering wheel. I didn’t know where I was going, but I kept on, pushing for a place where I could lose myself. I followed some highway for awhile, took another, and then another. I stopped that night at a rest stop somewhere in Pennsylvania and slept like a baby in the backseat.
The next morning’s breakfast was a pop tart and I was off again, map of New York on the seat next to me. The city was a big place and no one would find me there if they looked. So I drove on, my stomach lurching more and more as I went further and further away.

“Mom, I can’t do this right now.” I pushed back from the table, toppling the chair as it fell to the wood floor.” She looked shocked.
“Madeline, all I asked was for one explanation as to why you left.”
“I can’t give you that!” I was crying now, a silly twenty-eight years old crying in front of my mother. She stood shakily and pounded her fist on the table.
“Just one thing Madeline. Help me understand why you are so distant.”
“I can’t mom, not now.” I picked up the chair I had foolishly knocked over and set it upright as I wiped tears from my eyes. “I need to talk to some people first.”
“Why?” She stood defiant, one hand on her hip. That was always the way she stood when she yelled at me.
“Because I need to figure some things out about my past before I can talk to you.”
“I see, your mother is good enough to talk to.” I sat down, frustrated.
“That’s not it. I need to get my life straight mom. Everything is out of control.” My head returned to its previous position in my hands as I tried to fight the swimming colors running before my eyes. I heard her return to her seat.
“Tell me what has been going on Madeline. What’s happened?”

After being in New York only a few months and living in a boarding house, I found a job as a newspaper columnist. It was a day to day job. If they liked what I wrote, they printed it and I was paid. If not, I went hungry. It made me happy, to know that New Yorkers may have read my articles on the way to work every day.
I found another girl, Michelle who was looking for a roommate. We found a nice apartment in Greenwich Village and I was happy for awhile. We eventually found two more girls like ourselves and the four of us were good friends. It was after being gone for about two years that I called my mom the first time.
I liked my life, the direction it was headed, but I had an entirely separate life at home, in Harpers Grove. I changed when I went to New York. I lost the sincere qualities I prided myself on growing up.
Eventually, I quit the day-to-day job I had. I bought a camera and went out to photograph the normal New Yorker. I gained fame, I attended parties, I bought a penthouse apartment. Of course, my income from my photographs didn’t pay for it all.
I wrote novels under a pen name. They were bestsellers. But no one knew it was me. I wrote about my life, my friends, the people I had left behind, but it meant nothing. Why?
Because I lived my life alone. I left Michelle and the girls behind as I moved up. I called my mom once a month. I wrote one letter to Justin in all that time. My life was my work, my photographs and my writing.

“Mom, have you ever been so alone…that you just forgot what life was about?”
“What do you mean Madeline?” I sat back, banging my head against the back of my chair.
“Mom, I have no friends, nothing in New York.”
“What about those girls you were living with?” She looked at me sadly. So sad to see her face like that.
“That was a long time ago. All the people I talk too, it’s only about my work. People admire my work, not me.”
“Honey, you have never told me what you do.” I realized that was true. I never told my mom anything. My calls to her were courtesy. I asked how she was, she talked for awhile and I hung up.
“Come here.” I grabbed her arm and helped her upstairs to my room. From inside the closet I pulled out a bag and opened it. Reaching in, I pulled out a black portfolio binder. “Look at this. This is what I do.”
“Madeline, I never knew.” She flipped the pages, sitting on the bed. Black and white photos flashed before her eyes. I stopped her at one.
“I won a prize for this one.”
“It’s beautiful.”
The glossy photo was of a young girl of five. She was sitting on a rock, over looking the river. Surrounding her was a haze of smoke, garbage littered the ground around her and her dress was dirty and ratted. Her face was dirtied and streaky from crying. The camera caught a spark of light glinting in a tear rolling down her cheek.
“Is that your New York?” She looked at me, her own eyes mirroring mine and the girls.
“Yes, that is how I see it. That is how I see life mom.” She nodded and outlined the girl on the photo. “Why don’t you keep it?”
“Really?” She smiled.
“Yes, you can have a Madeline Harris original. I’ll get you a frame for it.” I smiled and wrapped my arm around her as she continued to flip through the pictures of how I saw the world.
The world was a place much different from the Harpers Grove I grew up in.
I was a lucky kid.

When I turned eleven, my mom agreed to let me have a slumber party. I invited all the girls I liked, and even those I didn’t. I wanted my party to go down in the history books of Harpers Grove. Mary was there early and helped me set up. We lectured my mother together about being cool so the other kids wouldn’t make fun of me and she agreed.
It was much later, around nine, that we were all snuggled into our sleeping bags and decided to play to Truth or Dare. Of course, Caroline started it and she wasn’t one of my best friends. I invited her, in hoping she would become a friend to me. I wanted to be her friend, to be accepted into her legions of adoring fans. That night changed that.
As we giggled and laughed, it was Caroline’s turn to ask someone.
“Madeline, truth or dare.”
“Dare.”
“I dare you to call Justin Daniels and tell him you like him.” Everyone screeched and giggled as I picked up the phone. All the girls knew about my crush on Justin. It rang a couple times before someone answered.
“May I speak to Justin please?”
“Calling a little late aren’t you?”
“Yes, I’m sorry ma’m.” More giggles from the girls.
“Hello?”
“Justin?”
“Yes, that is who you asked for you know.”
“Yes, well, it’s Madeline and-“ In that instant, Caroline snatched the phone from me.
“Justin? It’s Caroline. Madeline wanted me to tell you that she thinks you are a stuck up snobby boy and she would never be your friend.”
With that she hung up the phone and glared at me.
“You are a stupid girl Madeline, thinking I would EVER be your friend. I am not friends with bastard children.”
I screamed and lunged at her, tearing at her hair. It wasn’t long before my mother came running from the other room and tore us apart.
“Madeline, girls, what’s going on in here?” I stood there, chest heaving and glaring at Madeline.
“Mrs. Harris, Caroline called Madeline a…a…” Mary stuttered and stopped.
“What did she call her Mary? It’s okay to tell me?”
“She called her a bastard child.” It grew silent, as Caroline lowered her head.
“My mom always told me to speak the truth.” My mom bent before her and raised her chin with her hand.
“There is a difference between telling truth and being rude. Come with me. You’re leaving.”
With that, my mother dragged Caroline off to call her parents and I was left with the other girls, crying and rubbing my eyes, thinking Justin hated me for all eternity.

We were sitting on the porch again after dinner. I listened to her knitting needles clacking quietly in the still air as I sipped some tea and thought. Over dinner, I told her about my penthouse apartment, the high class life I had in New York. I did not mention the novels, or my writing. I wasn’t willing to show her that yet.
“Are you going to go see him tomorrow?” Brought back to reality, I thought over her question.
“Justin?”
“Who else would you go see?” I smiled and rocked in my chair.
“Should I see him?”
“I think so. I don’t know what his reaction will be.” She dropped her knitting and took a sip of tea. “He never dated anyone else after you left.”
I stopped rocking.
“What?”
“He has never dated anyone else.”
“I heard that. Why?” Again with that blank look of hers.
“I’m don’t know why, but I’m assuming its because he always thought you would come back to him.”
“Oh.” I started rocking again, the creaking of the wood relaxing me. I would see him tomorrow. Sometime. I would make sure of it. I needed to talk to him, explain some things to him.
“He’s a painter.” It was said quietly.
“He was always good at art. Remember the portrait he made of me?”
“Yes. Did you take it with you? I could never find it after you left.”
“Yeah, I did.” I didn’t tell her it was hanging in my bedroom, in a frame I had made specifically for it.
“He’s a good man. He always has been.
“Yes, I’m sure he still is.” I sipped more tea as more stars appeared in the night sky overhead and the crickets stopped chirping. Snuggling deeper into my blanket, I almost didn’t hear her.
“Did you date anyone in New York?” It was an innocent question.
“No, I never did. To be honest, no one ever asked.”
“That’s hard to believe Madeline, you are a pretty girl.”
“Thanks mom.” I smiled at her and stood, starting to retire for the night.
“You were always a pretty girl Madeline.”

I was seventeen, prepping for my senior homecoming.
“Mom! I need your help.” I heard her coming up the stairs.
“What child? No need to holler at me like a banshee.”
“My dress is stuck.” I turned as she fidgeted with the zipper. Eventually she got it up and spun me around.
“You look so pretty Madeline.”
“Thanks mom.” She kissed me on the cheek as we heard the doorbell ring. “Go answer it; I have to make an entrance like in the movies.”
Rolling her eyes at me, she descended and I heard her open the door and greet Justin.
“My, don’t you look handsome Justin.”
“Thank you Mrs. Harris.” I started down the stairs, just out of his sight, my pale pink dress swishing with each step I took. “Is she running late?”
“No, I’m right here.” I stepped off the last step and his eyes met mine. They glittered and his mouth opened a little. He stepped towards me and kissed me cheek.
“Pose for a picture.” He wrapped his arm around me and I felt his warmth as he held me close to him. She snapped it and off we went. He opened my car door and helped me in.
It wasn’t until we came back home that he told me. We were standing on the front porch, my hair half messed, make-up smudged, and my high heels in hand that he grabbed my face between his warm hands.
“God, you’re beautiful.”

*my word count is now at 6553 out of 50000*