My name is Jean Hannah Axelrod-Davidson. My life would never be interesting on paper to outside readers. Even if someone found my story interesting, they would never be able to feel the emotions I felt through the writing of my story.
I write this on paper not for others, but for myself. If someone were to read this, I would be extremely embarrassed and full of dread for the rest of my youthful life. Would a reader truly want to hear my story? If you are looking for a really happy ending, my advice is to find a fairy tale. No real story has a happy ending. In those Disney movies little kids watch, the people who made the movies knew little kids would watch them, so they replaced the real ending with a "better" one.
My story is real. If you care, read ahead. If not, oh well!
Stuck between two families. Marvelous, is it not? Does everyone dream their parents will start up different families of their own? I never dreamt of it, but the undreamt dream came true anyway. So now, my dad has five children with a woman who is not my mother and my mother has a boyfriend and a baby with him- along with her first born child Talia.
Keep in mind, techniquely, the only people I am actually related to in the bunch are my parents. I do not care if my half-siblings have half the same DNA as me. Do not tell me otherwise.
Anyway, I will give an outline of my life of 17 years. I was first born in Manhattan to a very happy couple. Well, at least I thought they were happy until this one night. The night before my 6th birthday. I heard my parents talking. It was a strange time to be awake- almost three in the morning. Talia- two years older than me- was my most beloved companion since I first met her in the hospital and just happened to be sleeping in the bed opposite me. I shook her awake. "Mmm. What is it?" she said, moving sleepily toward my voice.
"Mommy and Daddy are up," I said. "I want some milk, but it's dark." Yes, I was afraid of the dark. I would be even a couple years later. Really, being afraid of the dark should not be surprising at that age. "What if a monster jumped out at me?"
Tally never really believed in monsters of any sort. I still believe there are monsters out in the world- just not ones with claws and fangs. Ones even more dangerous, because you cannot tell they are monsters. "There are no monsters," she said.
Any other sibling would just pull up the covers and go back to sleep, but not Talia. Instead, she climbed out of bed. We walked quietly together downstairs, looking out for monsters hiding in the shadows. Just before she pushed the living room door open, a loud crash came from inside. A loud cry which was my mother's was so shrill I had to cover my ears.
If I was not as frightened compared with now, I never would have flung open the door and run to my mother's aid. I never would have thrown my arms around her- who was on the floor crying. I never would have been so naive to believe my parents would tell the truth. Your parents never want you to be upset. That is why they lie to you. They do have favorites. They will never tell you something is wrong.
"Mommy!" I cried. "What's wrong?" I studied her with anxiety. Her face- which I thought at the time was the most beautiful in the entire world- was covered with her brown hair, glued to her face with her tears. Her eyes were red and swollen. Somehow.... Somehow she was still able to smile at me.
"Nothing, sweetheart," she said. "Go back to bed." People say children can sense emotions. I was not one of those children. Just like any other young child, I believed her. Why would my darling mommy ever lie to me?
"Daddy?" I asked as my mother picked me up. I was tired to the point of closing my eyes against my will, but even I could see his surprise. "Daddy, will you tuck me in too?" I saw him look at my mother through my eyelashes. He seemed uneasy all of a sudden.
"I have to do last-minute work, Jean," he said. "Maybe next time."
Later, after my mom left, Talia whispered, "Are you sleeping?" Her tone was soft and tired yet alarmed at the same time.
I opened my eyes even though there was nothing to see but darkness. I heard her shift in her bed opposite me- probably to sit up. "No," I whispered. My voice sounded foreign to me. "Why?"
"I think Mommy and Dad are upset," she said. Silence hit. What was wrong with them?
"Why is that?" I asked.
I heard her sigh. "Did you see the broken picture?" she asked. What did a broken picture frame have to do with this? I never would have taken her seriously, but there was great urgency in her voice. No one could not help but listen. "The picture was of them together."
The picture was of my parents on their wedding day. I remembered seeing it everyday of the beginning of my life. After that night, I never saw it again. It was swept from existence as if all our happiness was gone forever.
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