New Town = New Beginnings?

• Eileen Huang, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2011

There’s no rules when it comes to running away from your problems. There’s no instructions, no regulations, no ‘have to’s, must do’s’. But if there aren’t any rules, why does it feel the same every time? Like playing a game. Every time, it’s the same. A fragment of me chipped off and disposed of at each house we’ve left empty.

‘You’ll like this place. A chance for new beginnings, new friendships, new…’

My dad’s upbeat, much too positive voice prattled on as I tried to push it to the back of my mind. I stared out the window, arms crossed, shoulders hunched, staying silent. Sensing my irritation, my dad glanced sideways, worry etched in the premature wrinkles that had formed on his forehead. But I hold on strong. Maybe if I keep up this lingual strike, he’ll understand that I’m mad.

‘It’ll be different this time. I promise.’

Empty promises. Just like the houses we’ve left behind, each one filled with the promise of being our final home. We both know nothing will change, but he’s said it so many times I think he almost believes it. And I want to. I truly do. But no longer can I remember the last time we stayed in a town for more than a month. It would always be the same monotonous cycle. We move to a new town, take a while to settle in, and before we’re even comfortable, before I’ve even made any friends, we’re off again. There was no telling when it would happen and I could never push away the feelings of disappointment. I would come home from school one day and everything will be packed up, ready to start all over. Running away from our problems, from the landlord, from our new home.

He always made it out to be some great adventure. ‘Life skills, building resilience’, he said. But he didn’t understand how much I yearned for a normal life. There was never a mother to care for me, never a best friend to confide in all my secrets and how I felt. These pent up feelings that were now gnawing at me and tying my stomach into a giant knot that seemed impossible to untangle.

As we pulled up into our driveway, I ran my eyes along the hazy, cracked and dirt-infested windows, the rusting roof, and the wild overgrown weeds waving softly against the wind. A scene I’d seen one too many times. I looked down the street and noticed that every other house was just as shabby as mine, giving a very clear indication that this was where the poor resided. Sighing, I dragged my life’s contents into the decaying house, dropped them, then left to explore my new town.