Page 10 of Eight Weeks
As I enter, I am greeted by a cloud of smoke. The living room lights are turned on, yet all I really see is—surprise—smoke. Not a fire kind of smoke. Cigarette smoke.
“Nicole?” I call out, but as she doesn’t respond, I know this can only be Hugo, my uncle. Well, technically he’s not my uncle as my aunt isn’t married to him. I have absolutely no idea how Nicole can keep him around.
I haven’t even been here for a day, and I want to wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze tightly.
“Germany, is that you?” Hugo asks from the living room at the same time as another wave of smoke rushes through the air. “Come here, pretty face. Say hello to your uncle.”
I don’t bother going anywhere near that smoked-up living room. “Sorry, I’m really tired!” As fast as I can, I rush up the stairs, into my provisionally bedroom, locking the door right behind me.
It’s one thing to live with people that are basically strangers to you by now, and another when one of these strangers is a pedophilic asshole.
I believe my mother has tried getting rid of Hugo more often than Nicole has.
When we used to live here and Nicole stopped by for a visit, accompanied by her “picture perfect” boyfriend Hugo, my mother would tell my sister and me to change into clothes that don’t show too much skin.
Imagine having to worry about your sister’s man looking atchildrenin a way he definitely shouldn’t.Nuh-uh.
If my mother knew he is still around, she would book the next flight to New City and drag my ass out of this house faster than I could blink.
As I open my suitcase to find some more comfortable clothes to wear, I notice a carton box right under the bed with the inscription:“Sofia”
It’s my handwriting, well, the one I had when I was seven. I must have written it shortly before we moved. One of the few boxes my parents decided not to take with us as they were “unnecessary”.
In a matter of seconds, I’m changed into a big shirt and shorts. My hair is just thrown up into a bun that definitely won’t survive the next thirty minutes, but who even cares.
Reaching underneath the bed, I pull out the box, almost choking on the wave of dust that comes my way when I blow it off as much as possible.
You know the feeling, when you investigate and find out some information you could have lived without?
Opening this box is one of those moments for me.
This box contains all of my old pictures with Lily, Aaron, and me. Even a picture of the three of us when Aaron had just bought us matching frog stuffed animals. He got them for us as a friendship present. Well, his father bought them, but Aaron made him do it, okay?
I remember looking for that thing the entire day before I moved away, and as I couldn’t find it, Aaron gave me his.
He said,“keep it so you will never forget me, Icicle.”
Oh how could I ever forget him? Even without having the frog sitting on my bed daily, I would have never been able to forget him.
I pick up one of the pictures, the one that was taken just before I left the Marsh’s house for the last time.
7
Sofia
“if this is what it’s like falling in love / then I don’t ever wanna grow up”—Kid In Love by Shawn Mendes
October 2008—Age Seven
“Sofia, sweetie, we have to go,”my mom says as she comes walking into my now empty bedroom.
My sister Julia is happy that we’re leaving. She said she didn’t like our home anyway, but I like it here. I don’t want to leave for Germany.
I heard it’s cold there and all the people are mean. My older brother Lukas told me that. And I believe every word Lukas says because he is smart. He is already going to middle school. But Julia is a lot smarter because she started high school this year. But Lukas is my favorite sibling, so I trust him more.
But the good thing is, I already know a little German. My mom is from Germany, so she taught me before.
“I don’t want to go,” I tell her through tears. This is so unfair. All of my friends are here. I even go to school here. I don’t want to take the plane to school every day. I would much rather walk with my two best friends in the whole wide world.
