CNF-Dialogue

     “Kylie just called.  She’ll be here in a few minutes,” I called out from the bathroom, spitting one last time in the sink and baring my teeth in the mirror to check for any remaining particles.

            “Okay, sweetie, you need to be completely ready to go by then.  Did you brush your teeth?”

            The teeth in question gritted together.  “Yes, mother.”

            I stepped out of the bathroom and into the living room where my mother sat, focusing solely on folding the towel in her lap.

            “Would you mind helping me with this?”  She shoved a towel at me, her eyes still fixed on the material she was creasing with her free hand.

            “Sure,” I squeaked, cringing slightly at the sound of my voice, snatching the towel and plopping down on the couch.  I turned my attention to the rough fabric in my hands, glancing up at my mother every so often while folding.  “So…”

            “So?”

            I swallowed.  “I was wondering- could I possibly have twenty dollars?  We were going to the movies and I might want to get some popcorn or something..;”

            “Alright, sweetie, just remember to bring back the change.”  She momentarily discarded a half-folded shirt, reaching for the purse at her feet and produced a twenty-dollar bill, handing it to me and eying me quizzically.  “What were you and the girls all planning to see?”

            “That Disney movie that just came out,” I answered, my voice faltering.  I bit my lip and stared at the floor, feeling her scrutinizing eyes traversing across my face.

            She huffed, tossing the perfectly creased shirt on top of a pile of identically folded shirts.  “Good, because I just can’t stand the kind of buffoonery that winds up in cinemas these days.  What, with the nudity and language and violence that we plaster on the big screen for our children to see?  I mean really!”

            “Mm-hm.”  Her voice faded into a drone at the back of my mind as I squinted at the clock across the room.  “Five more minutes.”

            “What was that?”

            “Nothing.”  I reached for another towel.

           

Eight pristinely folded towels later, a honk sounded from the driveway.  I jumped up, flinging my bag over my shoulder and rummaging through its contents, checking to make sure I have the appropriate supplies then dashing towards the front door.  “Bye!”

            “Be back by eleven or I’ll hunt you down.”

            “I believe you,” I mumble and roll my eyes, twisting the doorknob.

            “Hey there, gorgeous,” Kylie sang out, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at me as I slid into the backseat.

            I smirked.  “Hey yourself.”  I turned slightly, addressing the person in the passenger seat.  “’Sup, Kyla?”

            She nodded at me.  “’Sup?”

            Kylie turned around to fully face me.  “Dude, I am so stoked!  Black freaking Swan all the way!”

            “Heck yes!  Look what I managed to score.”  I withdrew a party pack of Hershey bars from my bag, wiggling my eyebrows at the other girls and inducing a few laughs

            “Isn’t it rated ‘R’, though?” Kyla asked, drying her eyes.  “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course.”

            “Yeah, I heard there are a couple lesbian-type scenes.  That should be interesting,” Kylie answered, catching sight of my giggling form in the rearview mirror.  “What?”

            A devious grin spreads across my face.  “Mom’s going to be so pissed.”

CNF- String of Memories

I don’t remember the first house I lived in.  According to dusty photographs tucked away in bookshelves, I spent the first three years of my life in an apartment in the outskirts of Chico.  I remember burying myself under a mound of pillows and blankets on top of our only couch as the Little Mermaid soundtrack buzzed out of a cd player.  Soon, after my brother was born, my family bid adieu to the apartment, choosing to invest in a “real” house inside a gated community.  Within our own home, I remember sliding across hardwood floors in socks with my younger brother.  I remember reliving this moment the following year in our new house until my brother fell facefirst onto the ground, sobbing and clutching his bleeding nose.  Later that year I found myself crouched over a circular table, grinding down crayons into a picture of a clown, and hoping my fellow kindergarteners would notice how the splotches of color remained within the lines.   I remember in the first grade leaning against the handlebars of my bike, creeping forward on my tiptoes as autumn leaves drifted from overhead trees and crunched beneath my feet.  The following year, I remember the crisp scent of fresh paper as I folded over the pages of my first sketchbook, tracing a pencil across the first page in interlocking shapes.  In third grade I laid on our carpet, propping myself up on my elbows as our puppy lathed between my toes with its tongue.  I remember sitting perched on the edge of my seat in fourth grade, skimming over my note cards and mouthing the words to my speech as I awaited a nod from my teacher.  In fifth grade I swabbed the deck and heaved ropes over the side of the Balclutha as ocean water sprayed my face and seagulls squawked overhead.  In sixth grade, I dangled on the side of a rock wall, suspended by a single rope, desperately groping at the face of the rock for a handhold.  I remember in seventh and eighth grade diving into the edge of the pool and focusing on the pull of my arms rather than the pressure in my head caused by my swim cap and goggles.  In ninth grade I stowed my cap and goggles deep inside an old drawer, instead lacing and unlacing the ties of crisp, white running shoes, bounding through different rooms in the house and bouncing on the firm soles.  A year later I double knotted the laces of a new, purple pair of shoes, kneeling over a starting line and coughing at the dust clouds swirling in the air.  Another pair of shoes later and I found myself plopping into my recliner, gazing into the glowing screen of my computer and resting my head against my fist as I reflected on my first memory.

CNF- Growing is Forever

     In a busy, chaotic world, I often have few moments to myself.  In the free minutes of my day, I often find myself seated at my glossy black piano, my back to the gentle sunlight filtering through the expanse of windows in my family room.  I savor the scent of old parchment as I leaf through the pages of a worn piano book before propping it against the stand, smoothing over the open pages with my hands.  With a slow exhale, I pluck the first note.
     My fingers dance across the polished keys, familiar with the melody.  Gradually, the music builds a steady rhythm, deep notes pulsing beneath tinkling chords.  Absentmindedly I hum along, relishing in the vibrations emanating from deep inside the instrument.
    A warm, ecstatic feeling blossoms in my stomach as the music tumbles into a crescendo, nearing the climactic finale.  I hammer out the final chords, my eyes falling shut as I drive my entire body against the keys.  I linger on remaining notes, drawing out the suspense and reveling in the warm, gratifying sensation bubbling through my body.  I strike out the final chord, my eyes opening to the stark white walls encompassing me.  The dusty sunlight fades as I reach over the piano to switch on the light.  I continue to hum softly as I tread across the cold floor and sling my bag over my shoulder, my body still buzzing even as I hustle through the front door to my next appointment.

Eyes Wide Open

     There simply aren't enough trees in this world.  Their roots are ripped right out of the ground to make space for malls, shops, and parking lots.  Resting beneath the decadent branches of a tree, I was reminded of the natural beauty and comfort these beings provide.
     The leaves rustled as a soft breeze drifted by.  Even as I laid back beneath the sun, I was sheltered by a thick canopy.  It was amazing how many hues of green I could distinguish within a single tree as I looked up.  However, the most striking attribute associated with trees, in my opinion, is their smell.  While images of trees are freely available nearly everywhere, one cannot truly appreciate nature without experiencing the earthy yet clean scent.  It's a shame these little details are overlooked by most.