When You Are Gone

Chapter 7

I walked through the doors of St. James Catholic Church feeling indifferent. A church I had attended for all the eighteen years of my life suddenly I felt strange, like I didn't belong. Father Thames preached about faith. How we, as Christians are at times face trials and tribulations that may overburden us. He used the story of Job as reference and the overall moral was that no matter how overwhelming the difficulties we face may be, God never lets us fall into problems that are beyond what we can bear.

"How was church?" my mom asked as I walked through the kitchen door.

"Good."

"Where are you going?" she turned to face me.

"My room."

"I'd made brunch. I thought we could all eat together. As a family." She said hesitantly.

"I'm not hungry." I answered bluntly, facing the ground.

I was halfway out the door. "Roman, want to talk honey?" I shook my head proceeding.

I flopped heavily on my unmade bed in the dimly lit room. The curtains were shut, everything was disarrayed – clothes on the floor, some hanging from my drawing boards, shoes on my dressing table. I had been so distracted lately, life was getting in my way. I put on my headphones and listened to the odd songs that no one knows the lyrics to but Francie. Loud, sharp, mind altering noises alternated from one side of my brain to the other with mumbled up voices trying to scream above all the instruments. Somehow, I could still hear myself think – I felt a tear break from my eye and roll down my cheek. I still never got it but it meant something to her, something I probably would never understand. You have to listen with your heart and not your ears she'd say.

"Roman." My mother was gently shaking my arm.

I removed the headphones awakening from a deep sleep, another dream of her.

"You should open these windows and get some fresh air in here," my mother said drawing the curtains. My eyes adjusted slowly to the sudden bright light.

"You okay?" she said picking up my duvet from the floor along with some other clothes.

"I don't know," was the frail reply.

She sat on the corner of my bed. "Tell me about it."

"There's nothing to tell, mom."

"You know," she paused. "You haven't painted in a while."

"Yeah," I looked up to my drawing boards with estrangement, "What's the point?"

"That's it!" She clapped her hands in command suddenly. "Get up." She threw a pillow at me.

"Or am I going to have to drag you out of bed?" It was more of a statement less of a question because she already had her hands wrapped around my ankles. "Mom!" I screamed as I almost hit my head on the floor.

She laughed. "Gina get some shoes on, we're going for a walk," she shouted.



"It's some sort of miracle, you managed to get this lazy out of the house," mocked Gina.

We walked down the road to our community park. It had slightly untamed green grass and a calming breeze. There was a middle aged couple sitting under the acacia tree on a wooden bench, conversing with so much love and feeding the pigeons that wound come land on the ground occasionally. At the north, there was a sand pit and a stone carved statue of a cupid that used to squirt water from its mouth but now stood there purposelessly in the middle of a small dilapidated pool. The bearer of all my childhood memories and sometimes artistic inspirations stood...barely, now fading. Gina and mom sat on a concrete bench close to the couple while mom exchanged small talk with the couple. I strolled across the grassland that like St. James' – I felt like a stranger to. I made an abrupt stop, sat and then laid down on my back, blatantly staring out into midair.

"I'm so bored," Gina sighed and then sat next to me on the grass. "It's gonna rain," she laid on her back.

"No."

She turned her head to look at me and I explained, "Those are altostratus clouds. They don't cause rain, they are not dense enough."

Gina chuckled. "You're stupid," she teased.

There was a spell of silence and then later: "Hey...um," she said hesitantly, "If I could take back what I said to Francie I would. For your sake. For both of you. I acted so rash because...I don't know, I thought I was losing my brother and that was very selfish of me." Her tone was groggy and sincere.

"You know how everything happens for a reason?" I said after a while.

"Yeah."

"Well, I don't know the reason for this but let's just say it was fate."

"Fate, huh?" she sighed. "So that's it?"

"What?"

"You should be mad, Roman. Shout at me. Tell me I'm a jerk."

"You are my little sister and I think we were both little caught up."

"Thanks."

She sat up to reach into her back pocket. She pulled out a folded piece of browning white paper.

"Here."

"What's this?"

"The letter. I'm sorry I kept it for so long."

I took it. I didn't feel the need to read it. It felt inadequate at the time. Like something that was going to end me up in my bed listening to rock music again. So I put it in my jacket pocket.

We both smiled laying on our backs looking up at the clouds and for a moment, I felt complacent. Like I had fitted the last piece of the puzzle. It was not the perfect puzzle, but it was mine, one with my sister and my mother, probably what I had been missing all along.

"Altostratus, huh? Genius," Gina teased as she sprung on her feet, it was drizzling suddenly and the raindrops got heavier.

"Let's go, guys," mom shouted from across the park. The couple ran out to their car taking cover under the husband's jacket. We dashed down the road and the rain only got heavier. That afternoon, we bonded as a family, running in the rain, soaking wet but we were happy, laughing because we knew we had each other.