Watch the Birds, Nicole Sheehan [uplifting novels .TXT] 📗

Chapter 1

After falling in love and marrying in our small town of Camarillo, California, my mother and father were quite happy when they became pregnant with me - but it was all downhill from there. My mother was about 4 months pregnant when my father lost his job. Looking back on it, I do think that’s when it all started. Something happened to him after that. It was as though he had lost the thing that made him a man. He became terribly insecure and, unfortunately for my mother, extremely jealous and controlling. When I was about a year old, my mother had taken me with her to visit her dad in Nevada because he was sick. When she told my father that she was going to stay a day longer than planned, my dad was enraged. He completely kicked us out and threw all of mine and my mom’s belongings on the driveway of our house. When mom did something out of his control, he lost control of himself. The more jealous he became, the more my mother pulled away from him - which only drove him more insane. He’d thrown us out of our house on multiple occasions, each time begging us back a day or two later. Mom was no longer in love with him, but rather, disgusted by him. But she had nowhere to go. She had to stay. Then he began to threaten killing himself in front of everyone – including his own five-year-old son, Daniel (my brother) from a previous relationship. My mom was then forced to secretly save up money to find a small apartment for her and I – she couldn’t save Daniel. When I was three years old, she’d gained enough money. She packed up all of our belongings while my dad was away, and we left – for good. Between this and the divorce, my father’s already fragile mind was cracking. Simply to spite my mother, he frequently refused to pay child support or take care of me on the weekends so that my mom had to work two jobs to support us and was forced to constantly search for new babysitters for me. Years of this struggle went by. Then, my mom had found a new boyfriend, named Chris. When I was eight, they married – much to my still extremely bitter father’s dismay. At that point, my dad decided he was going to completely stop calling her for anything. This meant that I was officially fatherless - aside from a stepdad with whom I would never bond. My mom tried helplessly to convince my dad to be in my life, but he would not give her the satisfaction. After six months of this, she finally told him that if he was not going to start making an effort to be there for me, she was going to take me with her to Henderson, Nevada, where she had family, friends, and better job opportunities waiting for her. But he didn’t budge. So we moved. And to deal with the guilt, my weak-minded father created his own little world – where it wasn’t his fault that he wasn’t around for his daughter, it was her crazy mother that stole her away from him despite imaginary court orders that stated she couldn’t. He forced himself to truly believe that I had been taken away from him forever and there was nothing he could do about it. In the meantime, I was being dragged away from everything I knew and loved – without the comfort of a strong father figure. Little did I know, this was to be my life story - which, unfortunately, was only worsened by the fact that I have inherited my father’s sensitive, unstable mind.

Chapter 2

Henderson sits just outside of Las Vegas, and the two share the same fast-paced lifestyle. Our new home was nice, but I do not handle change well. I remember on my first day of second grade at my new school, my mom had to hold my hand as long as she could before she was forced to leave the classroom. I was shaking. Every day that went by was either just as frightening as the last or only a small amount less. Either way, it took me many months to become comfortable. However, it would take much longer for me to find happiness. I cried myself to sleep every night that I was not too tired to remember my friends in Camarillo. I never allowed myself to think about my dad. It had already been over a year since he’d called to talk to me over the phone. I didn’t want to think about it because there was a very small voice suggesting that he just didn’t want to talk to me. I didn’t want to hear that voice. With these painful thoughts loitering in my subconscious mind in addition to my terrible shyness and overwhelming fear of new things, I was generally an unhappy child. Every car ride I went on, while mom had her boring adult conversations on her cell phone, I stared hopelessly out the window - and just...watched the birds fly by.
Two years went by, and I finally adjusted to Henderson. There was a period of time when all was well - or as well as it could be with the lingering issue of my father’s rejection. My mom and Chris were happy and we even gained another member to the family - my little brother, Christopher the third, after his dad and grandfather. I had also made a friend, named Quinne, in the third grade. By the time we were in the fifth grade, we were incredibly close. We were both very strange and misunderstood. But we understood each other. We were the only two people we knew who thought and behaved in the peculiar way we did; and we knew it, so we appreciated each other greatly. I believe it was Quinne who helped me to finally enjoy my new home. Our relationship was as unique as we were. Unfortunately, it would be brought to an abrupt end.
I remember the day with incredible clarity. I was about a month or two into fifth grade. My mom and my aunt took me to one of my favorite hiking trails. After a great hike and a fun day with my two closest family members, I was feeling especially good sitting in the backseat of the car on our way back home...Had I only known what was coming. I don’t remember the conversation that led up to this, but at some point, it became quiet for just a moment before mom asked me something that would melt the smile on my face and shove my heart into the pit of my stomach. “Nicole...how would you feel if we moved to Tennessee where Chris’ family lives?” she asked. For a moment, I was just in a state of shock and disbelief. I immediately felt sick, and my ears became hot with the feeling of nausea. I did not answer the question, but rather, remained silently confused. My mom began to explain her motivations behind this decision to me, but I didn’t hear it. It was as though a bomb had gone off right in front of me and all I could hear was the ringing in my ear from the explosion. I would attempt to consider leaving Henderson and living on the other side of the country, but it would only make my stomach hurt more and I’d have to stop thinking about it - or else risk vomiting. When it hit me that I’d be leaving Quinne...my heart shattered. Tears poured down my cheeks and I, ashamed of my weakness, laid down and buried my face into the itchy fabric of the back seat so my mom and aunt wouldn’t see me crying. I cried not only out of terrible sadness that I was leaving Quinne, the only person in this world that ever understood me, but also out of utter terror at the idea of moving to another new place. My mom and aunt knew I was crying, despite my efforts to hide it from them, but they would never know the pain I felt during that car-ride home.
It was my last day of school in Henderson. Quinne hardly spoke at all that day. She didn't know how to handle losing her only real friend - no more than I did, I expect. We dreaded the final school bell that meant it was over. After class, we walked somberly together for as long as we could, crying all the way. When the time came for us to part, we just sort of turned and looked at each other, our eyes red and swollen. We couldn't say goodbye. I had a hunch that I’d be able to visit at some point, but I knew it would never be the same. Nothing would ever be the same. I heard my mom honk the car a short distance away. My soul ached. I managed to sob, “I have to go.” Finally, we hugged each other. We hesitantly let go and walked away slowly - as if each step were physically painful to take. It would be yet another long drive spent feeling sick to my stomach and crying into the back seat of the car.

Chapter 3

I remember driving to our new house...in our new neighborhood. I couldn’t even look at it. This wasn’t home. It was desolate - the complete opposite of everything I had just gotten use to in Henderson. I don’t even have to list the differences between the lifestyles of Las Vegas and Tennessee. I didn’t even care to know what the name of the town was - so to this day I can’t remember what it was called. But it doesn’t matter. The place was so despicable to me, I felt it didn’t deserve a name. Just knowing I was there fanned an inferno of anger in my chest. The reasons we moved there in the first place, which were something along the lines of job opportunities and Chris’ family being out there, seemed a joke to me. In my mind, there was no good enough reason for moving again - for making me leave Quinne. But here we were...in Tennessee

. I loathed everything about it. Though I had grown close to Chris’ family and found some comfort in being near them, it would never be enough to lessen the hate I felt in my heart every day.
I knew in my broken heart we weren't meant to be there…but the whole thing was too painful to think about. Not one day was easier than the last. In fact, it was worse each day - like I was falling further and further into a hole of utter sadness, fear, and intense anger. All I wanted was to feel safe

and secure

at home, a place I wouldn’t leave. Now, I couldn’t imagine feeling at home ever again - and it scared the hell out of me. I felt like I was going to be constantly moving and never able to keep any friends. Unable to accept the reality that was my life, I was miserable. I became terribly short-tempered. My new school only made matters worse. I hated everyone around me. I hated my kind teacher, and especially hated my friendly classmates. Many of my peers attempted to befriend me, but I shunned them. Feeling certain I