The Never List
OFFICIAL PLAYLIST
1
My Allergy To Love
The power of love is a curious thing…
7 AM marks my alarm along with the song —The Power of Love by Huey Lewis and the News.
It’s the last day of school, and I’m waking up to the truth and the truth only. Would I call my relationship with love unhealthy? Yes, probably. But hey, there’s so much a girl can do when she’s raised on fairytales and also has an entire wall of romance books staring at her every morning since she was nine. Well, that and abandonment issues, but who doesn’t have them?
The other truth, an ugly truth, is that instead of being nostalgic about my junior year ending, I’m focusing my attention on gossip. Not useless gossip justcouples. Sad, I know. Should I be worried that I use others’ love stories to be remotely close to anything like it in high school? Sure. But it’s entertaining, really.
I do try to take my mind off love, but it just comes back to haunt me. I wake up, and my eyes find my books. On my way to school, I pass runner couples laughing together after theirway-too-early run, looking at elderly couples and imagining themselves in that place. I step into school. Doesn’t matter if they’re holding hands, kissing, or doing things which cause people to yellGet a room!,it follows me around like it has nothing better to do than to rub in my face daily that Cupid dropped my arrow and stepped on it, breaking it like a fragile little twig. But I must say, the most annoying part of it has to be watchingeveryoneget someone except for me, the one who’s been dreaming about it since I could say the word love. The cherry on top is when my dad and his friends tell me with all the ease in the worldDon’t worry about it, honey, it will eventually happen…orThe more you look for it, the more it will run from you…
I have closed my eyes, looked the other way, and looked at my nails long enough to know ignoring it is useless, which leads me to repeatedly bang my head against my locker every time I hear those cheesy — and much-needed — words from couples all around me, all around my day, all around mylife. I’ve actually developed a defense mechanism of rolling my eyes in the most I’m-jealous-and-lonely way ever known to mankind.
I drag myself out of my room and into the kitchen, expecting to find my dad making breakfast as usual, but he’s not. Lindsey is not up yet, so I can’t ask her.
I search around the house until I find him in his office, the door nearly closed but still leaving an opening to see inside. I’m about to interrupt when I hear him talking to the air..
He holds a frame in his hands and talks to it.
“It’s the girl’s last day of school. Soon Maddie is gonna be looking at Colleges and-” I hold my breath as he finishes. “I just really wish you were here with us, Sky.”
Farewell to the good mood of rainbows and sunshine I woke up to,good morning,anger and anxiety…
I feel like crying, because not only is my dad not supposed to be wifeless, as Lindsey and I are not supposed to be motherless. Flashbacks of her leaving and me running after her car burst into my mind.
My eyes sting, and I compose myself quickly before my dad sees me, and just as Lindsey gets out of her room.
“Morning, Lindsey!” I move away from the office door, lookingveryguilty, but at least I didn’t cry.
“Why are you acting weird?” She rubs her eyes while walking to the bathroom.
I sigh and go to the kitchen island, bumping my head against it.
My dad appears and kisses the top of my head, looking as fresh as a vegetable, and I get even more pissed.
It’s always like this. I’m the psycho who had an anger attack a month after mom left, and my dad? Alwayscool as a cucumber. Lindsey looks at her pictures sometimes and asks Dad about her, and hegladlyresponds as if the woman wasn’t the snake that left us. I always throw a tantrum and refuse to listen because why would I? I’m not a masochist. But they… They always talk as if it’s nothing, and I’m left managing my emotions that are clearly out of control every time I think of her.
He turns to me just as he puts the bread in the toaster and frowns at my face.
“You okay, honey?”
“Yeah, just, last day of school.” I shrug it off, placing a plate in front of me waiting for the toast.
I’ve learned over the past few years that it’s better to lie than to see the devastating look on my dad’s face when I say I’m sad about her.
My dad has always been a happy person, even his friends say so. He was the kind of kid who got up as soon as he fell, not caring if his knee was bleeding, and the kind of teenager who brought people together and helped everyone out while simultaneously keeping a smile on everyone’s face.
The Golden Retriever people are the worst people to see sad. It’s just not right nor does it make sense. That’s also one of the reasons I was (read:am) so mad at my mom. How could she leave my dad? If I had to place my dad into a category itdefinitelywould not be leavable.
He raises his eyebrows at me and gently smiles.
“But Maddie, you hate school.”
