Meet me under the Willow Tree

Chapter 6: Cassie

"I am grieving for the person I used to be."

  

   I hate school. Or, at least, I say I hate school. But, as much as I hate it, I'm starting to suspect that maybe I don't hate it that much, because instead of school, I'm at the hospital. Still. And there is not much to do at all in the hospital. I mean, I know today is Saturday and all. But I'm starting to miss school, or I guess starting to miss any reason to leave the house. Literally everyone is hovering over me. And by everyone, yes, I mean everyone. Lots of people are or at least were at some point today here. I mean, it's as if it's someone's birthday or something. Mom is obviously here. Mateo is here. My grandma is here. My grandpa is on his way. The Wheelers came and went, but Maeve has been here all day. I know how much she enjoys Saturdays as her study days (Ew), so I feel bad. I told her she didn't have to stay. But she, like everyone else, literally won't leave my side. Says she won't step out of this hospital till I do. She even told that to her parents. So yeah, basically everything's been a drama fest. I mean, you should've seen Mateo. He burst into the room dramatically as if we were in some bad tv show. Mom says I must be in denial of the whole thing. I'm not so sure. I mean, I know what happened. But hey, my dad's not here. If he's anywhere, it's behind bars, and that means we're safe... for now. But I'm not going to look into that. I'm sure they'll have my father under treatment that will help him. Help him cope with the violence and anger he has within him. Plus, I doubt my mother would ever stay with him. She's probably going to divorce and sue him. Or maybe that's just wishful thinking. Maybe my mother will become prisoner to her love for him again. Maybe she'll take him back, claiming he's changed, claiming he won't hurt us anymore. I sincerely hope not, but, you know. Nothing in my life is really predictable anymore. Expect the unexpected, they say. I'm just sitting in my bed right now. Mateo is rambling on and on about this new game Grandma bought him. His voice is a familiar little hum in the background of the screaming chaos of my mind. Maeve is trying to understand the game, and I guess she keeps dying, because now and then Mateo will go, "Maeve!! I told you, B MEANS JUMP!" I am probably going to go home tonight. They just wanna keep me for most of today and see how I do. Well, it's 3:03 PM and I am bored as heck. There is literally nothing to do. My grandma was trying to teach me to finger-knit earlier. I tried, but that got boring quickly, too. With Maeve, there's not much to talk about. Pretty much all she can do is hover over me and keep a watchful eye. Wait on me and constantly ask if I need food or water. And I mean, she's awesome for doing all this for me. She really is the best best friend I could ever ask for. But I think what I really need is to just get the heck out of this hospital. And that is nothing she can give me. "Hey, Miss Vina, how are we feeling?" Isabelle says. I'd grown to like her more. After breakfast today she came in and played Uno with me, and we talked about our favorite movies. We have similar taste in movies and music. It was really nice. "Bored," I say honestly. "Yeah, it can be a little dreary. How's your head feeling?" "Fine, honestly," I say. "I'm not, like, woozy anymore. I just feel like a regular healthy person who's stayed in bed too long. You know, when you just lounge in bed and you get all sweaty and uncomfortable and feel gross and..." "You can take a shower, you know," She says. "Yeah, with an assistant," I grumble under my breath. "No, no, you'll be fine. I don't have any doubts that you can shower on your own. Want me to show you where they are?" I smile and nod. Isabelle walks me to the door and shows me how the shower works. It's a cute little bathroom, soft pink. Warm lighting and a luxury shower. Woah. I definitely wanted to savor my time in this room, that's for sure. I'd been in bed too long. My clothes felt glued to my body in sweat. My hair was greasy and tangled. I practically leaped into the shower. The warm water of the shower feels like a big comforting hug. That sounds dumb. But it's the truth. The shampoo is rose hip and it smells soft and floral. The conditioner makes my hair feel like silk, soft, detangled silk. There's a brand new loofah that I get to take out of the packaging. It is also pink. Shocker. This is literally just like a bathroom that would be in a luxury hotel room. I'm honestly really surprised that it's this nice. It feels good to be able to do something on my own. To not feel like a disabled baby that everyone has to go out of their way to take care of. I was so tempted to just say, "Girl, I can walk," when people were running around and getting me stuff as if I didn't have functioning legs of my own. Ugh. I hadn't been in this hospital even 24 hours, not even close, and I already wanted to bash my head repeatedly against a wall. The theme of this bathroom must be pink, because the soap, shampoo, walls, loofah and towels are all pink. But like, soft pink. Ugh. Maeve would probably like it here. Me, however... no. Soft colors are boring. They remind me of the color of the walls of a baby's nursery. But the pink towel is so fluffy. I wrap it around me and close my eyes, feeling every inch of the towel on my skin. You ever have those moments where you're just like, "Wow, I'm alive,"? Well, that's what I was feeling at that moment. Surprised that I was alive and had a soul and a body. The warmth and fluffiness of the towel is so nice and comforting. I feel every inch of my skin become alive, awoken by the feeling of the towel against me. I kinda just wanna stay here... Suddenly there's a knock at the door. Christ, Maeve. Everywhere I go... I walk to open the door, but before I can I hear footsteps walk away. It is not Maeve. Maeve would've called my name. And repeatedly called it and called it and called it and not left till I answered. Huh. Probably a worker, though. I got changed into new clothes. Vibrant blue jeans with a baggy Nike hoodie. My favorite dirty white converse. I go back up to the hospital room, reluctant to be back up there. To my surprise, Isabelle finally says I'm ready to go. So we leave. The radio plays quietly in the background of the thick silence of the car consisting of me, my mother, Maeve, and Mateo. I stared out the window. I didn't really have the energy to talk to anyone. Leaving the hospital and realizing I'd have to go home soon made the situation so much more real. Maybe my mother was right. I guess maybe I really had been in denial. And now that I've left and my house is in sight, I am no longer in any sense of denial. My father's car is in the driveway but Mom says he's not home, and he won't be. She said she was going to drop off the car at the police station. Mateo keeps asking about Dad and when he's coming home. But I can tell that it's not in a 'I miss Dad' way. It's in a "I'm dreading his return" way. Mateo hasn't asked many questions about what happened. It's not because he's not curious or doesn't wanna know. I know he does. But he's trying not to overwhelm us. I heard Grandma giving him a little lecture outside of the hospital room when he first came to visit me this morning, or afternoon, I guess. She told him that me and Mom had been through a lot that night and that it was best to just hug us and care for us rather than peppering us with questions. Mateo had been very good about it, but I know it must be really hard for him. Mateo struggles. He has ADHD and is hyperactive. He tried his best to be calm when he saw me and Mom, but I know it was difficult for him to pull off. I saw the tears in his eyes. I realized, then, how young my baby brother is and how much he's been through. I realize how sad it is that he was raised in this horrible setting. But, truly, so was I. In my opinion, I turned out just fine. Honestly, though, what is 'fine'? I mean, I survived. I get kind of good grades. I don't fail all my classes or do anything bad in school like some kids do. I don't vape or skip school or any of that. Which I guess is good. But me, overall, am I fine? I try to be. My mom says I bottle my emotions up. That I need to talk more about my life, feelings, emotions. I don't see the point in that. Plus, everytime I'm tempted to bring up the way I feel or the way something makes me feel, I feel like I'm talking about myself too much. I know that in reality I'm probably not talking about myself too much, and that a lot of kids talk about this kind of stuff to, like, therapists. But I'm not like a lot of kids. I'm just Cassie. A loud, energetic, happy person. But maybe I'm not so happy all the time. I'm not quite sad, either, though. It's just kind of a feeling of... nothing. The way I see it is, I'm happy at school. Then a lot of emptiness when I get home. And that is exactly where I am, now. Home. Emptiness, I guess, is better than sadness, right? Here I am, at home getting out of the car and walking up to our lavender front door, decorated with a pretty little flower wreath. There used to be a much prettier one on this front door, though. We used to have a very special flower wreath. It was from my mom's mom, and my mother loved it dearly. It was her comfort object when she was a child, because no matter how hard her life was back then, she would always come home to that flower wreath. It provided a sense of comfort to her. But, of course, nothing lasts forever. Not even the presence of comfort objects. Not when you live with someone like my father. On one of the nights when my father was angry, he took the wreath and tore it apart. He then proceeded to run over the broken pieces with his car before driving off into the night, going God-knows-where. We don't know where he went that night, but he was gone until afternoon of the next day. Mom bought a new flower wreath, but I know it doesn't feel the same. It doesn't feel the same to me either. Nothing does. Not anymore. Butterflies the size of bats are flitting around in my stomach and I sort of felt like crying. Weird since I don't really cry. I mean, I guess in reality maybe I just can't cry. When I get sad or upset, I get a sinking feeling in my stomach. But that's really it. Sometimes my eyes fill with tears. Nothing more. I can't tell if they just won't fall or if I don't let them. I turn the doorknob and walk into the empty house, followed by my mother and brother. The house is embedded in silence. The air feels gray, bland, melancholic. You could hear a pin drop. Cold mac n cheese was sitting on the stove from the night before. It hadn't even been 24 hours since everything happened all at once. But I wished and prayed that it would be a LOT longer than 24 hours before we saw Dad again. I hoped he'd gotten fired from his job. I hoped my mother had already told him he had no home in this house anymore. I was sure she had. I mean, after all that apologizing, she must have really meant it when she said that our lives were going to change from here on out. Maybe our Father would move away and give Mom, Mateo and I our happy ending. Maybe, maybe, maybe. The house, as I said, feels quiet. So quiet that it doesn't even feel like my house. My house was always alive. You know, I never understood when people used that phrase 'so quiet you could hear a pin drop." I mean, where was it that quiet? But I understand now. The air was heavy and silent. It felt like it had a weight to it, crushing and killing me. I wasn't ready to be here. Yet here I was. "Cassie, sweetheart, I... um, do you want me to finish the mac n cheese for you?" My mom says, tears welling up in her eyes. Her voice cracked when she said it. I nod slowly. Nothing could make me feel better like my mom's mac n cheese. I sat down at the little wooden table, Mateo across from me, begging me to play monopoly. Again the house smelled of food and the room was filled with laughter. We talked and played games as if last night had never happened. And I'll admit, it kind of feels like it has never happened at all. Maybe we were going to be a happy family now. No one can hurt us if it's just us. Me, Mateo, Mom. Maybe we could make this work. We ate Mom's delicious mac n cheese and played round and round, game after game. Monopoly, twister, chutes and ladders. We laugh and hug and this feels like... family. Like what a real, true, happy family is supposed to be like. After dinner and games, we relax on the couch and watch America's Funniest Home Videos like we used to. We even have ice cream! More laughing. I kind of love this. The feeling of happiness and family and harmony. I just don't know if it will last. Don't know if anything will last, anymore. Mateo begs and begs to sleep in my bed tonight and for once, I let him. I would usually say absolutely not, but. You know. I guess he's like, scared or whatever. I'd never admit it, but I'm a little uncomfortable with sleeping alone right now, too. Mom actually comes into my room and reads Mateo and I a story. It's called 'The Giving Tree' and it used to be mine and Mateo's favorite. Then, we all stare up at the ceiling and talk. "Does your head hurt, Cass?" Mateo asks. I shrug. "Not really. It just made me feel a little woozy. I mean, yeah, it hurt right when it, um, you know, happened... But not very much after that." There is a very long pause. The wheels in all of our brains are turning. "Do you remember that night when my flower wreath... broke, Cassie? Mateo?" My mom asks. Her voice wavers. Mateo nods. "Yeah." I say. What does this have to do with anything? "And you know that was my mother's. Very special to me." Mateo nods again. I stare at her. "What ever happened to it, Mama?" My brother asks. I sort of wonder too. ALl I really know was something happened. Our parents got in a fight, "Well... Your father and I got into a fight one night." "About what?" "Umm... Usually I wouldn't tell you guys about this, but he was... seeing someone. Someone at work. I found out, and... I wasn't exactly angry, but heartbroken. Pretty little blonde woman." Mom buries her head in her hands and sighs. I had no idea that this had happened. I'm intrigued. But not surprised. My brother doesn't look too surprised either. "I found out from a friend. A friend who works with your dad. She gave her sympathies and asked me... when Diego and I had divorced." "Divorced? You didn't divorce," Mateo said, brows crinkling in confusion. Ugh. I had an idea where this was going. "Yeah, so I asked what she meant. I told her that we had been married since before Cassie was born. And my friend was dumbfounded. She told me that he... had a girlfriend at work. A girlfriend who he was lying to. She said that everyone on their floor knew that Diego was 'divorced.' That's what he was telling everyone." She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. A tear crept out the corner of her eye. Mateo and I both hugged my mom from both sides. "And... And this girlfriend, it was someone we knew," Mom whispers. My brain tries to put the pieces together. Oh my god. "Was it... Cathy?" I ask, speaking softly. Cathy, my mother's childhood friend, was the only 'pretty blonde woman' who worked with my dad. "Yes, it was," She said softly. I try to process what she's just told me. Cathy had been my babysitter when I was younger. She had worked with my father since I was seven. She had been close with my mother for even longer. Wow. It's not a big surprise that he cheated on her, but Cathy... Wow. "I was heartbroken. But I couldn't show it. I confronted your father and he accused me of going through his private affairs. I tried to keep it together, confronted him as calmly and open-mindedly as possible though my heart was breaking. And... He had lost his temper... That was the night when my flower wreath broke." Mateo and I hold our mother tight, now; staying with her on this night as she relives the night her heart broke. "Why did you... stay? With him?" Mateo asks. He sounds so innocent and confused. As if it's that easy. My mother shakes her head tiredly. I know that leaving is not as simple as it seems. "Because, sweetheart," She says softly. "One day you'll fall in love, so deeply that you don't think you can live without it. So even though he did me wrong," She sighs, "I'm doomed to love him just the same." There's a pause, and I know we're all thinking. "You don't love him now, though, do you? After what he did to Cassie?" "I don't know, Mateo," She says, a tired voice cracking, "I just don't know." I think the two may have talked more, but I don't know. I fell asleep right away to the sound of my mother's voice and heartbeat, the one thing that, even now, could lull me to sleep instantly.