I wake-up in a cold sweat, my Hello Kitty cotton nightgown clinging to my skin like a lifeline. My head aches from being pulled into a high ponytail the whole night and I whimper quietly as I yank at the hair-tie. Clutching the tie, along with a few strands of my golden locks, I slide out of bed.
Wobbling on the fuzzy pink throw rug in front of me, I take deep, slightly panicky breaths, trying to steady myself. For the past few days, I had been haunted with terrible nightmares, but at five, mom had banished me from her room at night unless it was an absolute emergency. To me, a nightmare was an absolute emergency, however, to my sleep-loving mother it was hardly a big deal. She said I was a big girl now and I didn't need to sleep with her anymore; that it was for babies. I think she was just tired of being woken up in the middle of the night. This was confirmed when the night before I attempted her door only to find it was locked. I had chanted a mantra to myself all the way back to my room that I would be fine, I was a big girl, and the nightmares couldn't hurt me.
I was very wrong. Last night's nightmares were the worst yet; a giant snake hissing my name over and over to the beat of ear-splitting thunder. I was paralyzed and the snake came closer and closer to my small kid body until I could feel his scales against my palm. Then something had grabbed me from behind and started to pull me back, but the snake followed. No matter where this thing behind me hid me, the snake would find me. At the end of the dream, I was hiding in a cupboard in my kitchen when the snake hissed my name with overwhelming hatred, and then it shot through the door of the cabinet with its teeth surging towards my face.
Slowly, I glance around my room. There is no snake lurking in the shadows. My room is exactly as I had left it when I fell asleep.
My walls are painted a pale pink, and are accented with little swirls of gold paint throughout the wall. A flower pattern lamp sits on my bedside table, as well as a picture of my dad in his uniform and a small vile of Vick's Vapor Rub- I had been feeling sick for about a week.
The comforter I had gotten for Christmas had hearts printed all over the quilted white fabric- it now rested in a heap on my floor. My dad had sent it to me from overseas in a bright blue box. The note that had accompanied it was tucked safely beneath my bed; unopened. Dad said I could only open it when he got home from the war because he wanted to see my face when I read it. Mom said their was a surprise inside. Personally, I was hoping for candy- even though it would be stale after being under my bed for nearly a year.
I drop my hair band on the floor and hurry over to my small little calendar hanging by its frail ivory ribbon on the wall across from me. Squealing, I grab my fat red marker from my 'art station'- which consisted of a stack of paper, a mini easel with an unpainted canvas on it, and a box of paint all stacked neatly on my distressed white table- and draw a large 'X' over the previous day. Studying it with delight, I trace my finger over the words 'Dad comes home' that are scrawled in my mom's neat handwriting on tomorrow's date. Dad was finally coming home! Tomorrow I would see him again!
Suddenly, it didn't matter that I had had a terrible nightmare in my sleep. What mattered was the fact that my dad was coming home to me and mom! What mattered was that I would finally open that note! What mattered was my mom would no longer have to stare wistfully out the window as Dex's parents walked hand in hand up the sidewalk on their afternoon stroll!
Excitedly, I bound out of my room; charging towards the kitchen where my mom is bound to be. The smell of bacon and eggs and grapefruit juice fills my nose. I had woken-up to that smell everyday of my life, and it never went down in appeal. I could almost taste the slightly undercooked eggs, with the crunchy bacon, and the cool sweet taste of the juice sliding down my dry throat. Just the thought of having the delicious food in my mouth propels my feet faster down the hall.
Skidding to a stop at a fabric-topped stool, I shout out, "Good morning, mommy!"
Mom turns quickly, a smile splitting her face. "Good morning, my sweet! How did you sleep?"
Her hair is pulled into a sloppy high bun. Her cheeks are flushed a slight pink. A sparkle is in her pale blue eyes, and her shoulders are held slightly higher. A spatula is in her right hand; little bits of egg still clinging to the surface.
She knows dad is coming home; you can tell by the shine in her smile and the animation in her voice.
"Good," I answer, "I had a really scary nightmare, but I was a big girl and I'm okay!" I beam with pride as mom scoops me up and places me on the stool.
"I'm so proud of you, Nikki!" Mom says, sounding truly pleased as she kisses the top of my head. She shuffles around the counter and grabs a lime green plate from our off-white cabinets. Scooping the eggs and bacon onto my plate from the skillet, she hums to herself happily.
Today was by far the best day we've had in a long time of dad being gone.
I shift constantly in my seat; not being able to sit still with all the pleasure of this perfect morning coursing through me. Mom slips the plate in front of me and pulls up a stool by my side. Her fuzzy pink bathrobe rubs against my arms, and I giggle- being very ticklish.
"Yummy?" She questions, taking a bite of bacon from my plate.
"Mhmm," is all I'm able to respond as I shovel the gooey eggs down my throat.
Suddenly, the doorbell rings. Its light little chirping noise resounds throughout the house. Mom glances at the little black alarm clock on the windowsill that overlooks our front yard and neighborhood.
"Probably Dex or his mother," she informs me, "they're the only ones that come over so early."
I just nod, gulping mouthfuls of juice. Mom gets up, adjusts the stool back into place, kisses my head, and walks briskly towards the door; her beige slippers making a scuffing sounds and she wanders over the wooden floor.
As she approaches the door, she chirps, "How about we go to the bowling alley today? We can take Dex!"
Her mood is so joyous upon the return of my father that she will take me anywhere I desire. This is why I can't pass up the opportunity to request more. "And the ice cream shop?" I prod, finally taking a pause from eating.
"Yes, of course! How could I forget?!" She chirps; following it with a light laugh.
"Yay!" I yell. I plunge another forkful of food in my mouth and listen as the door opens.
"How can I help you, sir?" Mom questions with a shaking voice.
I sit straighter in my chair. It couldn't be Dex or his mother.
"I'm very sorry. May I come in?" A deep voice whispers.
Mom answers with a very grim, "Yes, of course. Please come in."
Curiosity makes me put down my fork on the island's counter-top, hop off the stool, and scamper into the living room.
The living room was always the most pleasant place in the house. It had pale blue walls with distressed white wood furniture. In the center of the room was a white table with two small drawers tucked inside. On the table was various magazine's and a white candle wrapped in a designed iron shell. We had a large couch in there; it was a aquamarine color with white pillows. On the walls hung pictures of dad, mom, and me. The main picture was placed right above the couch. It was a black and white photo of mom and dad on their wedding day. Mom's head was tipped back in a laugh, and dad held her hand with a smile on his face. The California sun was just setting behind them, and the cool tranquil waves kissed the shoreline at their feet. Ever since their wedding mom and dad wanted to move to California, but they didn't have enough money yet. I hoped- selfishly- that they never had enough money because I didn't want to leave Dex.
Sitting on the couch was my mother. Her expression was desperate and utterly sad as she stared at a tall man in uniform who sat perfectly straight in our cream-colored chair.
"Who is this?" The man asked as I entered the room. I noticed that his eyes got increasingly more sad as he looked at me. It was clear he was not expecting a child.
"This is my daughter, Nikki. Nikki, say hello to the nice gentlemen. Also, thank him for his service. He's a man just like daddy." Mom says. Her face is pained. She twirls her wedding ring around her finger slowly.
"Thank you, sir. I'm Nikki. Why are you here? Shouldn't you be with my daddy?" I ask.
His face twists in a painful expression. "Well," he begins.
Mom cuts him off quickly, twisting her wedding ring even faster with shaking hands. "Nikki, come sit by mommy."
I nod, confused. I shuffle over to her, and she pulls me into her arms quickly. She squeezes me tightly to her chest, and looks at the man with pleading eyes.
I can feel her heart hammering through her nightgown and robe. Mine speeds up as if inspired by hers. I suddenly realize that this is not good. There shouldn't be a man just like my daddy, but isn't my daddy, sitting in our living room. Mom shouldn't be shaking with fear. She should be happily walking me into a ice cream store with her spirits high.
The man open his mouth and says, "I'm very sorry, Mrs. Larson. Your husband was killed in the line of duty. He died protecting his country. I'm very sorry. I understand he was supposed to come home tomorrow."
"When?" My mom whispers.
"Two days ago. He was shot by a group of snipers. He fell with at least four of his men. I'm truly sorry for your loss." The man whispers, not making eye contact.
Mom breaks out in hysterical sobs. My heart snaps in half.
"Daddy?" I sob. I think of his smile, his hair, his eyes, his laugh. I will never hear them again. I'm five; just a child. My dad is dead. He's never coming back to me.
"No, it can't be! He's coming home tomorrow!" My mom yells.
The man stays silent.
"Get out, you bastard! Get out of my house!" My mom screeches.
She sobs loudly and painfully.
The man silently gets up and leaves without another word. However, he leaves a fat yellow envelope on the table.
"Mommy?! Hold me! Hold me!" I beg. Her arms stay glued to her chest as she heaves out heart-wrenching sobs.
I try to wriggle into her arms, but she pushes me away time and time again. I cry and scream so hard that I actually throw-up all over the floor of our dining room.
Mom doesn't look at me. She just cries and cries. She doesn't stop to wipe her nose or dry some of her tears. No one comforts me.
I lay on the floor and cry; my knees pulled to my chin. I'm five; just a child. My dad is dead.
Now my mom is too.
* * *
I wake-up screaming. A cold sweat coats my skin. I kick my blankets off me and clutch my arms. "It was just a dream," I whisper to myself.
It wasn't a dream though. No, it really happened to me. Eleven years ago that was my reality. It's still my reality.
My mom hasn't uttered the words 'I love you' to me since then. The next morning when I woke up there was no smell of eggs and bacon and grapefruit juice.
Also, the doorbell never rang. A taxi never pulled into our driveway. Dex never ran up the street yelling that he could see my dad coming. My mom didn't do my hair and dress me in my best clothes. She didn't curl her hair or Windex the wedding picture. Dad didn't come home that day. He still hasn't. However, I still think mom waits for him.
Every time she gazes out the window or twirls the wedding band that she has never taken off it seems like she's waiting for the taxi to pull up, or for the door to open. Maybe that's why when she finally had the money, she moved us to California. Maybe she had some kind of hope that he was waiting for us here.
Mom sometimes walks on the beach alone. Sometimes she just lays down outside and looks at the sunset like Dex and I did when we were kids. Scratch that, I don't think she's waiting for dad; I know shes waiting for dad.
This sort of pity for my mother wells up inside of me. I still love my mom. I will always love her. She was the best mom anyone could ask for when I was younger. I admired her strength in the way that she mantained such a good marriage to my father who was always gone. Mostly, though, I would always love her because my father always loved her. He loved her more than life, and I love my father with all my heart. So in this sad way, my mom is something my dad always cared about, therefore, I will always care about her.
My poor mother; she is so broken. Everything she loved slipped through her fingers. She works the day away to avoid pain; drinks the night away to avoid pain; avoids me to avoid reminders of pain.
I'll be nicer to her. Maybe if I show her that someone still cares about her, she'll realize that maybe she still cares about me. Maybe someday she'll realize that there is still a five-year-old girl who is waiting for her comfort.
Sadly, I still think it's a long shot.
I slide out of bed and check my phone. For some reason I am pleased to find that I have zero messages. I can make this Saturday whatever I want it to be.
Throwing my phone on my bed, I shuffle sleepily to the bathroom and cringe at my appearance. Sweat stains my shirt and pants, my hair is frizzy and tangled, and sleep fills my eyes.
Jeez, I better stop thinking about Dex and Will so much or I'll age to forty.
I hop in the shower, and crank the heat all the way up. The scalding water penetrates my skin, and seems to wash away all my worries. Allison always gets annoyed when I take showers at her house for I am one of those people who likes to contemplate the meaning of life in the shower. Allison was strictly one of those people who washes and then gets out.
Suddenly, a thought hits me. I've been so caught-up in choosing Dex or Will and obsessing over Dex and Will that I haven't really paid attention to any of my friends. In fact, now that I think about it, all I ever talk about even when I am with my friends is Dex and Will.
I do a face palm right there in the shower. I must be so annoying to be around! Thinking back, I realize how melodramatic I've been acting. That needs to stop. No, it's going to stop; right now.
Obviously, it's important that I choose. I have to choose at some point, and I've told people that I'm going to really think about what I want. Frankly, however, I just tired of thinking and over-thinking. I'm sixteen! I want to have fun! I want to bask in the glorious freedom of it being a beautiful, sunny Saturday in California!
I shampoo and condition my hair, rinse, and stand under the water until it starts to run cold. Hopping out, I shiver from the momentary cold before grabbing a towel. With it securely wrapped around me, I grab a bottle of sweet-smelling lotion and squeeze a crap-load of it onto my palm. I rub it all over my chest, legs, arms, and back until my skin is baby soft and nicely perfumed.
Searching my cluttered basket of various beauty products, I find my favorite lavender perfume that Shawn gave to me for my birthday last year. I spritz my wrist and inhale the nice scent. I missed this. I missed the simplicity of not worrying.
I put a little mascara on and a little concealer to cover up the light purple rings around my eyes, and smile in the mirror. For the first time in quite a while, it feels like I am free to have fun and let things go. The past two weeks I had been obsessing over nothing but trying to pull my past into the present. I had been doing nothing but trying to force Dex into my life with Will. Now, I was just going to spend today doing what sixteen-year-old girls with normal lives did on a Saturday afternoon; have a blast on the beach with all her friends.
Happy and smiling, I skip over to my over-sized closet and grab my baby blue bikini and my sandy pink beach bag. Pulling the bikini on, I realize how long it's been since I went swimming or surfing. Despite my close encounter, I still loved the ocean. Sure, I was scared that a current would pull me under again and kill me, but then again most things in everyday life can kill you, and you don't spend your life avoiding them, do you?
My phone buzzes my bedside table, and I snatch it up in my hands. It's from Allison.
Al: What r you doing today? No more depressed Nix, she sucks.
Me: Well, I was planning on goin 2 the beach. U in?
Al: Thank the heavens! Yep I'm in! Meet you there in 5 with Jen. She stayed over last nite.
Me: O cool. Invite Shawn, Dylan, Dex, Will, Grace, and Tom. Phone's gonna die. Cya there Al. xx
Al: Kay Nix. Have u decided yet? Ur in a good mood.
Me: Tell you late.
Al: Kk
A little bit of anger wells inside me at the mention of Jen staying over at Allison's house. I'm usually the one to sleepover with Al on the weekends. Then again, I guess I haven't been a real joy lately. One thing that also surprises me in my messages, is that I invite Grace, Will's new girlfriend. Maybe today I just want to be done with fighting and jealousy.
Before I leave for the beach, I go into the kitchen and make my mom a sandwich; a roast beef with provolone cheese and some mustard. Her favorite, I recall. I also grab a yellow sticky note from a drawer beside me and scrawl in relatively sloppy handwriting; Thought you might get hungry for lunch. Left for beach w/ friends. Enjoy!
I feel lighter as I place the note beside the plate with her sandwich. Today is truly a day of forgiveness for me.
Exiting the house, I decide to walk to the beach verses taking my mom's car. The walk is hot and long. Sweat rolls down my spine and sticks along my hairline, but I can't seem to bring myself to care. As I near the beach, I reach into my bag and finger the envelope I had grabbed from under my bed at the last minute. Today was about letting go, moving on, and forgiving.
I planned to make this day end with all three. I was going to let go of my past, move on to my future- however risky and uncertain it may seem right now, and forgive everyone who had done me wrong so I can accept the one person who has always been their for me.
I think back to my texts with Allison. She asked me if I had decided yet. A few minutes ago, I thought I was just letting go for today. I thought that today was going to be about not making decisions and having fun because all the decisions could wait until tomorrow or the next day, or even the next day. Now that I think about it, however, I don't think the decision has ever been more clear to me.
Maybe worrying does make it worse. Maybe it was just me hyping up something that was so simple. Maybe it was my dad; who truly was that falling star last night.
All I know is that I have never felt so certain of myself before.