Untamed

by Steven Harris

  Today is the big day. It’s hard to imagine myself living in a different home but I suppose it’s overdue. It all started three months ago when my mom received a job offer. This job pays twice as much as the editing gig she once had. She took the offer without thinking twice. The place is a highly-reputable publishing firm somewhere in New York.

  It’s located near the town she was raised in. When she mentioned the possibility of us moving, I didn't take her word for it until the Realtor arrived to discuss the details. In all honesty, I never cared much about this house. This place always felt more like a prison than an actual home. I spent most of my time sitting in front of my window, watching life around me progress like a statue.

  The reason being is because of my unfortunate health conditions. I have SCID, or in other words, Severe Combined Immunodeficiency. I’m unable to go in public without the risk of becoming gravely ill. Therefore, I was home schooled all through my childhood. Another major condition is my bone deficiency, which caused my legs to become brittle. However, I have a wheelchair that helps me get around when I need to.

  My least favorite out of all of these is my epilepsy. Sometimes I can black-out and have a seizure unexpectedly. The most embarrassing moment was when I was at the carnival, years ago.

  “Everything’s packed up and ready to go,” a familiar voice informs me.

  I turn away from the window and look back into my empty room. I spot a beautiful brunette woman walking towards me with a humble smile. I look back out the window and watch Ms. Porter take her Shih Tzu for his usual afternoon walk.

  I count down from five in my head and watch Mr. Jenkins cruise down the street in his blue Volkswagen. He’s been working overnights since I can remember, and as you can see, I’m pretty much familiar with everyone’s daily routines.

  “We have to hit the road now before traffic gets bad,” she urges.

  “This is really happening,” I say in disbelief. “We’re actually moving.”

  “And it’s about time,” she replies as she gently places her hands on my frail shoulders.

  I then begin to reminisce about someone who I haven’t seen in a long time. A feeling of resentment overcomes me.

  “Do you ever think about him?” I ask her.

  “Iva, we had this talk before. He made his decision. We’re better without him.”

  If you have to know, the person I’m being indirect about is my father. He left us when I was young for reasons that still remain unknown. My mother never fully recovered from that. I guess you can say the same for me.

  “Life goes on,” she tells me.

  I sigh and shake my head.

  “Maybe for you, but we both know the world will never accept me like this. I’m tired of being this face in a window. I want to be somebody.”

  She walks in front of me and kneels down until she reaches my eye level.

  “Iva, you are somebody. Today will be a new beginning for us both. No more staring out of windows.”

  I nod softly in agreement.