NaNoWriMo-untitled novel-chapter two

here is the next chapter. Still need a title and two males names.

I woke up at five, my normal waking time in the city. Dressing in sweatpants and a sweatshirt, I descended the stairs slowly and went out the door. After stretching a little, I took off on a jog down the street. It was still dark, the leaves crunching beneath my feet as I ran. It was definitely cold and I was grateful for the sweatshirt.
Turning down Main, I nodded at an older gentleman sitting on his porch with his dog. He waved and I kept on, bond for town. It amazed me that most of the houses I passed were still dark. No one was bustling to get ready for work, no kids running around for school so they could catch the subway across town. Instead, everyone was tucked tightly into their beds, dreaming.
I used to dream. Back when I was young. I used to believe in many things, and none of them came true. I always thought my dad would come back to see me, to know who I was. I’ve never met him. I always thought I would be married, with kids running around in a high class city apartment. While I have the apartment, I have no husband, no boyfriend, nothing.
My friends were superficial in New York, caring only for their money, their homes, and their clothes. It disgusted me. Yes, I guess I could say I was like that. I had wanted that lifestyle when I was younger and it caught up to me. Those things aren’t important to me anymore.
I could feel my legs straining as I turned down a side street for home. It seemed as if all the houses were run down and falling apart at the seams. Slowing, I stopped in front of a light blue one. It used to belong to my friend Mary, so long ago. Along with my mom, I left her that June morning. I left many people for the life I thought I wanted.
Continuing, I watched a squirrel run up a tree with an acorn, perhaps the last one lying on the ground. He chattered at me as I passed.
I passed houses with new cars, and those with the shabby old pick-ups I recognized vaguely from high school football games and dances. I noticed toys and bikes littering a few front yards and porches and wondered why people didn’t put their stuff away so it wouldn’t get stolen. But I remembered then, this is small town life.
Nothing exciting happens.

After sitting on the front porch for an hour, watching the street come alive, I entered the house to see her cooking pancakes. I smiled and went over to help.
“No, you go sit down. Let me cook my girl some breakfast.”
“What are you doing up so early mom?” She shuffled to the fridge to pour me a glass of apple juice.
“I always wake up at 6. Got to get my day started early. But I should ask you the same question.”
“I went for a run.” I sipped the juice and smiled. She remembered the brand I liked.
“See anything exciting?” She flipped some pancakes, perfectly browned.
“No, same old Harpers Grove.” Moving a small pile onto a plate she served me and I reached for the syrup.
“You would be surprised Madeline, how much things change in ten years.” She sat across from me and I pondered that for a moment.
“What does that mean?” I brought a bite of food to my mouth.
“It means that people around here have changed. New families, people dying. Life went on while you were gone.” She ate for a moment and I joined her. Her pancakes were as good as ever. “By the way, thank you for the souvenir.”
“You’re welcome.” She nodded. “I bought it the day I called you, I just never sent it.”
“It’s nice.” It grew quiet again as a clunky motor went past outside. “Why did you dye your hair?”
“I was sick of the brown.”
“You always had pretty brown hair Madeline. But I guess I like the black.” She smiled as I finished my pancakes.
“Thanks mom. I’ll do dishes.” She stood with me, shaking slightly.
“No, you go shower and I’ll clean up.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”

In the shower, I thought about what she said, how people changed, people died. Life went on without me. Of course it had, ten years is a long time. I should have kept in touch.
She still used the same shampoo, I thought, as I used my own $20 bottle. She is still the same, but a little different, a little older now. What had my mother been up to in my absence?
I turned the water off and stepped off into the bathroom. Wrapping myself in a towel, I swiped a patch of the mirror clean. I looked pale, tired. My life was out of control. Maybe mom would help me, but there were so many things to talk about, so many things I would say that would hurt her.

There was a time when I was five and she was tucking me into bed. My room had been purple then, with daisies and princesses on the walls. She tucked my hair behind my ear and kissed my cheek.
“Mom?” She paused in the door.
“Do you think dad loves me?” She was quiet for a long time, her hand on the light switch trembling.
“I hope so.” She flicked the switch and started to close the door.
“Mom?” She paused again.
“Does he know about me?” The light went on again as she came and sat beside me. She twirled her fingers in my curly brown hair.
“No, he doesn’t.” I sighed.
“Maybe one day he’ll come back and he’ll love us.”
“Perhaps, but I wouldn’t count on it honey.” She kissed me again and left.
It was a half hour later that I heard her crying in her bedroom as I went to use the bathroom. I swore to myself that night I would never ask about dad again, and I never did, until the night before I left.

When I went downstairs, she was sitting at the piano, playing a piece by Mozart I loved as a girl. I sat down next to her as she finished.
“I always liked that song.”
“I know.”
“You know everything.”
“That’s what I’ve been told.” We both smiled as she played another piece, one I didn’t know. She finished and closed the lid over the ivory keys. “Could you take me to town?”
“I guess.”
“Do you not want to face people yet?” She eyed me questioningly.
“No, its okay.”

It was an hour later that we were bundled into my Mercedes. She stroked the leather seat comfortingly. She smiled as we took off towards town.
“That’s a very pretty sweater.” I looked down quickly. I was dressed in blue jeans, brown boots and a brown turtleneck.
“Thanks.”
“Brown was always a good color on you.” I smiled. She looked cozy in the warm leather seat.
I pulled into the parking lot of the knitting store. She wanted some yarn to make some scarves and sweaters. I helped her out and locked the doors.
“You know no one will steal it.”
“It’s a habit.” She nodded and we went in.
The store was somewhat new to Harpers Grove and I lovingly stroked the multicolored yarn. She went off in search of the perfect shade of green, while I picked out my own and bought it quickly.
“Tell her I’ll be right back,” I told the salesgirl and I stashed the yarn in my car. No need for her to know I learned how to knit in New York. I would surprise her later. I went back in as she was ringing up her purchases.
“I needed some fresh air.” She nodded as she paid. I helped her outside and into my car.
“Where to next?”
“Ed’s.”

When I was three, we went on our usual Wednesday afternoon trip to Ed’s. I always stuck close by her, it was easy to get lost in the aisles and aisles of food. When I was younger, I was amazed at how much food there was in the store and how massive it was. As I grew up, it looked more shabby and smaller. Nevertheless, Ed’s was the place for our food.
Anyway, as a three year old, I was intrigued by a display, and discovered a hole beneath it. I escaped my mom and sat under it, playing with my doll. I never heard her screaming in panic for me until a store clerk found me wide-eyed with panic. My mom was hysterical and grabbed me and shook me.
“Don’t you ever, ever leave me again. Ever.”
And I never did leave her side again without permission.
Until June 23rd, ten years ago.