SUMMER OF STARS

Summer of Stars pt. 16

            “But you haven’t even tried this time. You’ve left it all to me while you escape into your work . . . or whatever you’re escaping to.” I dropped my spoon into the cereal bowl.

            “I’m sorry about that, Lola.” Dad got up and pushed his chair in. “I’m desperate for some normalcy.”

            “You’re not the only one,” I mumbled as Dad walked out of the room.

            I wasn’t hungry anymore. I pushed the half-eaten bowl of cereal away and gazed around the room. The silence was unbearable. I wanted to go back in time to some busy morning before school. I wanted to hear Mom humming as she poured her coffee and see Dad stretching as he walked through the bedroom door, claiming that we had woken him up with our noise. Then he’d ask her to fry him up some bacon and she’d make a snide remark about his fat ass. They wouldn’t be a perfect couple, but they’d perhaps be a normal couple.

            I got up and poured some coffee for Mom. I walked into her bedroom and set the cup down on the night table. I opened the bottle of sleeping pills and dumped them into my hands. One, two, three, four, five . . .

            “You checking up on me?” Mom’s voice was low and raspy.

            “I, uh, just, uh, wanted to make sure.” I put the pills back into the bottle and screwed on the cap.

            “It’s okay. I’d check on me too, if I were you.” Mom took the bottle from my hand and stared at it. “I wake up in the middle of the night and you can’t imagine the things that go through my head. I’m so scared, Lola.”

            “What are you scared of, Mom?”

            “God, I don’t know. Everything and nothing. This world is so cruel and unjust. I have this nightmare of you and your father being ripped away from me. It’s so irrational, but it haunts me. You go away and I’m left with only insanity. I’m a madwoman, Lola.”

            I understood her nightmare. I wanted to tell her I’d seen it, but didn’t want to send her further into her fear. “Did you talk to Dad this morning?”

            “He’s home?” She sat up and grabbed the clock. “Is it Friday already?”

            “He got home about an hour ago. Said he tried to wake you.”

            She rolled over and started crying. “I hate this. I hate who I am!”

            I crawled under the covers and wrapped my arms around her. “Why don’t we go to the doctor?”

            She nodded. I kept my arms around her until she sat up and wiped her cheek.

            Her eyes glazed over. “I’m going to shower now.”

            When the sound of the water filled the room, I ran upstairs.

            “Dad, Dad!” I called as I burst into his office. He was on the couch, his eyes fixed on a spot on the ceiling.

            “What’s going on?” He jumped up.

            “Mom agreed to go to the doctor. Will you make the call?”

            “Are you sure?”

            “She’s in the shower right now. She’s getting ready to go.” I ran to Dad’s desk and shuffled through the rolodex. The fact that the doctor’s number resided in that ancient device was proof of how long he’d been an integral part of our lives. “Here, call him!”