"Life is too short to hold grudges with the wrong people. You could hate them and still hug them. You could care about them and never ask how they're doing. If life is short, why do we miss out on doing the things that matter most?"-Anonymous
Sarah Hill
Max won't stop talking about his birthday. He was born on a day Mother would call unexpected. Her due date wasn't for another six days. Papa was out at work. One thing we did know is that Max was coming into this world one way or another. That's a brief story on Max's birth. He's getting a party and, I'll make sure.
What if Fredrick isn't the only one next?
They could be questioning him or trying to bribe him for his friends. I've been having a bad past with friends lately. Though, the sweet aroma of chicken and waffles wafts my nose. It does its job by distracting me. Chicken and waffles are some of my favorite dishes.
There are also a lot of calories in it but I don't care. I look to my side at Papa and Max taking out the cooked wings from the oven. They are all still tense and angry but they are only gathering because it's dinner. I feel my heart still accelerate at the thought of Rodger coming back and bringing his people. How can I be so sure that is the last time? Will he try to press charges to take all we have?
I help wash up the dishes and set the table. During dinner, I take three waffles and two pieces of chicken. I want to apologize for everything that's happened. I have to learn that I shouldn't because I didn't cause this to happen. I walk to the kitchen counter to glance down at the buttermilk waffles that dripped syrup and honey. Max licks what fell on his finger. Papa is washing dishes after. He stops to walk around the counter.
"I heard back from Mom. She's isn't complying at all but they said that is normal at the start of withdrawal. One week still left until she's released," He tells us. Max and Sandy are quiet next to me.
"How long will this last?" Max asks. My body feels like folding into nothing. Tears prick at the corner of my eyes. My hand on my other quivers.
"What do you mean?" Papa wipes the last dish dry and turns to Max.
"How long will the pain last?" He questions all of us now.
"The pain I get because we'll never be a happy family." Max is hurting too. We all are now. I try to stop my leg from shaking and my ears from replaying the sound of Rodger's nose breaking. The sounds of my cries seeing Oliver weak in a hospital bed. The thought of Jay and his father make me cower and want to defend myself. I see my Mom still in bed with Rodger on the night my life changed. I'm freaking out on the inside and I can't stop the anxiety.
"I need to go. I need to leave...I'm sorry. I'm sorry," I start hyperventilating. Papa goes over to me quickly and I move away and out of my seat. I feel myself fall and I get up quickly with adrenaline in my veins.
"Sarah, breathe. Calm down." I need to be alone to get over this one.
"I'm okay," I cry, bringing my legs up and tucking my head in my knees. I breathe unsteady. I want to go back to Brooklyn where we had no problems. Every day was a happy day. No drugs. No violence. No anorexia. No father with anger issues. No assault.
I cough and splutter as I cry. I try to think of a happy place. A happy place. I thought of Oliver and I. When we're in Venice on my birthday. We were taking Polaroids and smiling. My breathing is decent now.
"Get her some water," Papa said. I watch him and take in a breath before letting it out. Max goes to the sink and fills a glass with ice and water. He comes back and hands it to Papa. I feel my eyes settle my hands stop shaking. I blink my eyes at how ashamed I am for letting another attack take me down like this. This was panic.
"Drink," He brings the glass to my lips as I swallow some. I feel my throat less dry. He places it on the floor. I take my phone from him after asking for it. I call Oliver from my contacts. Max doesn't know what to do as he stands there. I tell him I'm okay but he moves away like he's scared. He's scared of me.
The conversation Papa and Oliver have is all blurred to me. I don't focus on a thing but my heart and my shame. In no time, the doorbell rings, and I open it. Oliver is there in seconds and by my side. "Sarah's just had a attack so it's best she calms down. You can take her upstairs. I'm giving you thirty minutes. I'll be down here," Papa takes Max to the living room where he explains the severity of my attack.
"Hey, Sarah," He walks next to me. I sluggishly walk with him up to my room. My eyes are still dropping tears on each stair going up.
"How did this happen?" He looks at me. I still can't talk and my mind is racing.
"Sorry, you don't need to talk," He pushes open my room door and sets me on the bed. I watch him pick up some polaroids I didn't get to hang up yet. The one Sandy and Max took. Then there's some from New Year and my birthday trip.
"W-What are y-you doing?" I watch him get some clips from a container I have of them.
"We're going to hang these up together by your lights. I was also thinking of praying. I've never done it before because I don't consider myself a religious person but it's worth a try. I just want to see things look up for us," He huffs. Oliver hands me some polaroids and I watch them as it gives me something to focus on. I breathe in and out like before. My heartbeat slows and my thoughts come back to me.
"I was downstairs and I got a panic attack from just the events of today and my life. It cracked down on me," I explain. Oliver looks up and takes my hand to rub soothing circles. He sits and adds clips to the photos. I watch him and slowly start to as well.
"How bad?" Oliver curiously asks. I gulp and add another clip to a polaroid.
"Very bad. Exhausting even." I feel sleepy already. I want to yawn but I hold back. Oliver gets up to clip the photos onto my lights and I follow him with a set of my own.
"Did something else happen today?" Oliver goes back over to the set of photos.
"Papa punched Rodger. Juliet's dad." I take some clips and put them on the polaroid. My fast breathing is slower now.
"I'm sorry, Sarah. I still can't believe that this much is happening to you. Looking at these photos, you don't smile a lot," he mentions. I watch the one in my hand with me and Oliver in bed.
"Yeah, I guess so," I clip the last photo. We turn on my lights and watch the polaroids come to life. It looks better now that it's hung up. My panicking isn't as bad as before. Oliver pulls me over to my bed where I lay next to him. I watch his eyes close as I believe that he is praying for something. Maybe good luck. Then his eyes open and he kisses my nose.
"Are you tired?" He pulls the blanket from under me. I nod sleepily and slip my legs under and in between his. The door is still open halfway. His heartbeat makes me skip one. My stomach gets those butterflies that soothe me.
"I don't..want..to sleep yet. Was your..day okay?" I fight to keep my eyes open. I'm so tired and drained from today and what happens daily.
"Not really but that's okay. It's just a lot of feelings having to be dealt with," he concludes. I half-nod my head while it falls on his chest.
"I'm worried about...Fredrick. I can't seem to keep everything afloat," I whisper. My eyes have already closed on me but I put my hands to his chest where I draw very slow hearts.
"Everyone's worried. It's just hope that he turns up. He will," Oliver puts his head back and strokes my hair.
"I'll help keep it afloat. I'll try," Oliver whispers back.
"I love you." Oliver rubs at the side of my face where tears have dried up.
"I love you too. No matter what."