Never Alone

• Andrew Smith, Grade 12
• Short Story
• 2009

As I pried my eyes open, morning light flooded my view. They adjusted, and the image of a disorganized, New York apartment began to materialize. Before the entire jumble of objects were fully clear, I propped myself up with clenched fists and made my way toward the bathroom, nearly tripping on an empty bottle on the way. I was prepared to step into the shower but my body thought otherwise; clenching the white ceramic, I hurled my head downwards and let the liquid flow from my mouth and, after flushing, recomposed myself and continued with my morning.
Exiting my apartment, I passed a photograph tacked to the side of the fridge; I must have missed it in the purging. This image, was one of the last two things I had from Jamie Silverman, my ex. Wiping all traces of them from my life was hard when the final thing they left me wasn't so easy to get rid of as throwing it in the trash life the rest of their junk. I had some time before my interview and made my way to the elevator that carried me down to the noisy, inconsiderate streets.
Sounds of taxis and hurried commuters formed a wild cacophony which blended into white noise; living in New York you learned to filter out the background and only listen to what was important. I made my way through the opposing crowds to the coffee shop on the corner of 13th, . Thoughts of my ailing mother and upcoming job application permeated my mind. “Short black- strong as you can” I told the boy ready for my request. “Sure thing, and a name for that order?”
“Sidney Lee.”
“Just your first name would have been fine mate, please wait 'til I call you.” I contemplated; 'mate', I didn't get that very often. Maybe my choice of colour for today was making me look less...approachable than I normally do. My breakup left me with a marred view on relationships but this seemed to have permeated elsehwhere where a steely exterior effectively kept people away; not like before where my confidence and politeness commanded pleasant respect and admiration. My train of thought was broken; “Order for Sidney”.
Gulping down my nerves with the burning aroma of the black liquid, I was ready to proceed to my interview when a phone call cut me short; one that would change me. My new destination was the airport, I had to get to my mother in Florida, she was clinging to what life she had left. As I requested my plane ticket from the airport counter, I felt something, wet. A cold realization ran down my body and a woman close to me cried “Call an ambulance, her water's broken!”
Though I was not there as my mother passed, I was able to usher new life into the world. This is my gift. I am Sidney. I am a single mother. We will survive.